Footnote: 
1.  On the 17th of August, 1678, the Prince of Orange, afterwards
   William III. marched to the attack of the French army, which
   blockaded Mons, and lay secured by the most formidable
   entrenchments.  Notwithstanding a powerful and well-served
   artillery, the duke of Luxemburgh was forced to abandon his
   trenches, and retire with great loss.  The English and Scottish
   regiments, under the gallant earl of Ossory, had their full share
   in the glory of the day.  It is strongly suspected, that the Prince
   of Orange, when he undertook this perilous atchievement, knew that
   a peace had been signed betwixt France and the States, though the
   intelligence was not made public till next day.  Carleton says, that
   the troops, when drawn up for the attack, supposed the purpose was
   to fire a feu-de-joie for the conclusion of the war.  The
   enterprize, therefore, though successful, was needless as well as
   desperate, and merited Dryden’s oblique censure.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

OEDIPUS, King of Thebes.
ADRASTUS, Prince of Argos.
CREON, Brother to JOCASTA. 
TIRESIAS, a blind Prophet.
HAEMON, Captain of the Guard.
ALCANDER, }
DIOCLES, } Lords of CREON’S faction.
PYRACMON, }
PHORBAS, an old Shepherd.
DYMAS, the Messenger returned from Delphos.
AEGEON, the Corinthian Embassador.
Ghost of LAIUS, the late King of Thebes.

  JOCASTA, Queen of Thebes.
  EURYDICE, her Daughter, by LAIUS, her first husband.
  MANTO, Daughter of TIRESIAS.

Priests, Citizens, Attendants, &c.

SCENE—­Thebes.

OEDIPUS.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—­The Curtain rises to a plaintive Tune, representing the
  present condition of Thebes; dead Bodies appear at a distance in the
  Streets; some faintly go over the Stage, others drop.

Enter ALCANDER, DIOCLES, and PYRACMON.

Alc. Methinks we stand on ruins; nature shakes
About us; and the universal frame
So loose, that it but wants another push,
To leap from off its hinges.

Dioc. No sun to cheer us; but a bloody globe,
That rolls above, a bald and beamless fire,
His face o’er-grown with scurf:  The sun’s sick, too;
Shortly he’ll be an earth.

Pyr. Therefore the seasons
Lie all confused; and, by the heavens neglected,
Forget themselves:  Blind winter meets the summer
In his mid-way, and, seeing not his livery,
Has driven him headlong back; and the raw damps,
With flaggy wings, fly heavily about,
Scattering their pestilential colds and rheums
Through all the lazy air.

Alc. Hence murrains followed
On bleating flocks, and on the lowing herds: 
At last, the malady
Grew more domestic, and the faithful dog
Died at his master’s feet[1].