Haem. Is’t possible you should be ignorant Of what has happened to the desperate king?

Cre. I know no more but that he was conducted
Into his closet, where I saw him fling
His trembling body on the royal bed;
All left him there, at his desire, alone;
But sure no ill, unless he died with grief,
Could happen, for you bore his sword away.

Haem. I did; and, having locked the door, I stood;
And through a chink I found, not only heard,
But saw him, when he thought no eye beheld him. 
At first, deep sighs heaved from his woful heart
Murmurs, and groans that shook the outward rooms. 
And art thou still alive, O wretch! he cried;
Then groaned again, as if his sorrowful soul
Had cracked the strings of life, and burst away.

Cre. I weep to hear; how then should I have grieved, Had I beheld this wondrous heap of sorrow!  But, to the fatal period.

Haem. Thrice he struck,
With all his force, his hollow groaning breast,
And thus, with outcries, to himself complained:—­
But thou canst weep then, and thou think’st ’tis well,
These bubbles of the shallowest emptiest sorrow,
Which children vent for toys, and women rain
For any trifle their fond hearts are set on;
Yet these thou think’st are ample satisfaction
For bloodiest murder, and for burning lust: 
No, parricide! if thou must weep, weep blood;
Weep eyes, instead of tears:—­O, by the gods! 
’Tis greatly thought, he cried, and fits my woes. 
Which said, he smiled revengefully, and leapt
Upon the floor; thence gazing at the skies,
His eye-balls fiery red, and glowing vengeance,—­
Gods I accuse you not, though I no more
Will view your heaven, till, with more durable glasses,
The mighty soul’s immortal perspectives,
I find your dazzling beings:  Take, he cried,
Take, eyes, your last, your fatal farewel-view. 
Then with a groan, that seemed the call of death,
With horrid force lifting his impious hands,
He snatched, he tore, from forth their bloody orbs,
The balls of sight, and dashed them on the ground.

Cre. A master-piece of horror; new and dreadful!

Haem. I ran to succour him; but, oh! too late;
For he had plucked the remnant strings away. 
What then remains, but that I find Tiresias,
Who, with his wisdom, may allay those furies,
That haunt his gloomy soul? [Exit.

Cre. Heaven will reward Thy care, most honest, faithful,—­foolish Haemon!  But see, Alcander enters, well attended.

  Enter ALCANDER, attended.

I see thou hast been diligent.

Alc. Nothing these,
For number, to the crowds that soon will follow;
Be resolute,
And call your utmost fury to revenge.

Cre. Ha! thou hast given
The alarm to cruelty; and never may
These eyes be closed, till they behold Adrastus
Stretched at the feet of false Eurydice. 
But see, they are here! retire a while, and mark.