_Dioc._ Had merit, not her dotage, been considered; Then Creon had been king; but OEdipus, A stranger!
_Cre._ That word, _stranger_, I confess, Sounds harshly in my ears.
_Dioc._ We are your creatures. The people, prone, as in all general ills, To sudden change; the king, in wars abroad; The queen, a woman weak and unregarded; Eurydice, the daughter of dead Laius, A princess young and beauteous, and unmarried,-- Methinks, from these disjointed propositions, Something might be produced.
_Cre._ The gods have done Their part, by sending this commodious plague. But oh, the princess! her hard heart is shut By adamantine locks against my love.
_Alc._ Your claim to her is strong; you are betrothed.
_Dioc._ I heard the prince of Argos, young Adrastus, When he was hostage here--
_Cre._ Oh name him not! the bane of all my hopes. That hot-brained, head-long warrior, has the charms Of youth, and somewhat of a lucky rashness, To please a woman yet more fool than he. That thoughtless sex is caught by outward form. And empty noise, and loves itself in man.
_Alc._ But since the war broke out about our frontiers, He's now a foe to Thebes.
_Cre._ But is not so to her. See, she appears; Once more I'll prove my fortune. You insinuate Kind thoughts of me into the multitude; Lay load upon the court; gull them with freedom; And you shall see them toss their tails, and gad, As if the breeze had stung them.
_Dioc._ We'll about it. [_Exeunt_ ALC. DIOC. _and_ PYR.
_Cre._ Hail, royal maid! thou bright Eurydice, A lavish planet reigned when thou wert born, And made thee of such kindred mould to heaven, Thou seem'st more heaven's than ours.
_Eur._ Cast round your eyes, Where late the streets were so thick sown with men, Like Cadmus' brood, they jostled for the passage; Now look for those erected heads, and see them, Like pebbles, paving all our public ways; When you have thought on this, then answer me,-- If these be hours of courtship?
_Cre._ Yes, they are; For when the gods destroy so fast, 'tis time We should renew the race.
_Cre._ Why not then? There's the more need of comfort.
_Cre._ Unjust Eurydice! can you accuse me Of love, which is heaven's precept, and not fear That vengeance, which you say pursues our crimes, Should reach your perjuries?