Adr. Thine, say’st thou, monster! shall my love be thine? 
O, I can bear no more! 
Thy cunning engines have with labour raised
My heavy anger, like a mighty weight,
To fall and pash thee dead. 
See here thy nuptials; see, thou rash Ixion, [Draws.
Thy promised Juno vanished in a cloud;
And in her room avenging thunder rolls,
To blast thee thus!—­Come both!—­ [Both draw.

Cre. ’Tis what I wished.  Now see whose arm can launch the surer bolt, And who’s the better Jove! [Fight.

Eur. Help; murther, help!

  Enter HAEMON and guards, run betwixt them, and
  beat down their swords.

Haem. Hold, hold your impious hands!  I think the furies,
To whom this grove is hallowed, have inspired you: 
Now, by my soul, the holiest earth of Thebes
You have profaned with war.  Nor tree, nor plant
Grows here, but what is fed with magick juice;
All full of human souls, that cleave their barks
To dance at midnight by the moon’s pale beams: 
At least two hundred years these reverend shades
Have known no blood, but of black sheep and oxen,
Shed by the priest’s own hand to Proserpine.

Adr. Forgive a stranger’s ignorance:  I knew not The honours of the place.

Haem. Thou, Creon, didst. 
Not OEdipus, were all his foes here lodged,
Durst violate the religion of these groves,
To touch one single hair; but must, unarmed,
Parle as in truce, or surlily avoid
What most he longed to kill[8].

Cre. I drew not first, But in my own defence.

Adr. I was provoked Beyond man’s patience; all reproach could urge Was used to kindle one, not apt to bear.

Haem. ’Tis OEdipus, not I, must judge this act.—­
Lord Creon, you and Diocles retire: 
Tiresias, and the brother-hood of priests,
Approach the place:  None at these rites assist,
But you the accused, who by the mouth of Laius
Must be absolved or doomed.

Adr. I bear my fortune.

Eur. And I provoke my trial.

Haem. ’Tis at hand. 
For see, the prophet comes, with vervain crowned;
The priests with yew, a venerable band;
We leave you to the gods. [Exit HAEMON with CREON and DIOCLES.

  Enter TIRESIAS, led by MANTO:  The Priests follow; all cloathed
  in long black habits.

Tir. Approach, ye lovers;
Ill-fated pair! whom, seeing not, I know,
This day your kindly stars in heaven were joined;
When lo, an envious planet interposed,
And threatened both with death:  I fear, I fear!—­

Eur. Is there no God so much a friend to love,
Who can controul the malice of our fate? 
Are they all deaf; or have the giants heaven?