Ghost. Of my death they are. 
But he who holds my crown,—­Oh, must I speak!—­
Was doomed to do what nature most abhors. 
The Gods foresaw it; and forbade his being,
Before he yet was born.  I broke their laws,
And clothed with flesh his pre-existing soul. 
Some kinder power, too weak for destiny,
Took pity, and endued his new-formed mass
With temperance, justice, prudence, fortitude,
And every kingly virtue:  But in vain. 
For fate, that sent him hood-winked to the world,
Performed its work by his mistaking hands. 
Ask’st thou who murdered me? ’twas OEdipus: 
Who stains my bed with incest?  OEdipus: 
For whom then are you curst, but OEdipus! 
He comes, the parricide!  I cannot bear him: 
My wounds ake at him:  Oh, his murderous breath
Venoms my airy substance! hence with him,
Banish him; sweep him out; the plague he bears
Will blast your fields, and mark his way with ruin. 
From Thebes, my throne, my bed, let him be driven: 
Do you forbid him earth, and I’ll forbid him heaven.
          
                                          [Ghost descends.

Enter OEDIPUS, CREON, HAEMON, &c.

OEdip. What’s this! methought some pestilential blast
Struck me, just entering; and some unseen hand
Struggled to push me backward! tell me why
My hair stands bristling up, why my flesh trembles? 
You stare at me! then hell has been among ye,
And some lag fiend yet lingers in the grove.

Tir. What omen sawest thou, entering?

OEdip. A young stork,
That bore his aged parent on his back;
Till weary with the weight, he shook him off,
And pecked out both his eyes.

Adr. Oh, OEdipus!

Eur. Oh, wretched OEdipus!

Tir. Oh, fatal king!

OEdip. What mean these exclamations on my name? 
I thank the gods, no secret thoughts reproach me: 
No:  I dare challenge heaven to turn me outward,
And shake my soul quite empty in your sight. 
Then wonder not that I can bear unmoved
These fixed regards, and silent threats of eyes. 
A generous fierceness dwells with innocence;
And conscious virtue is allowed some pride.

Tir. Thou knowest not what thou sayest.

OEdip. What mutters he? tell me, Eurydice: 
Thou shak’st:  Thy soul’s a woman;—­speak, Adrastus,
And boldly, as thou met’st my arms in fight:—­
Dar’st thou not speak? why then ’tis bad indeed.—­
Tiresias, thee I summon by thy priesthood,
Tell me what news from hell; where Laius points,
And whose the guilty head!

Tir. Let me not answer.

OEdip. Be dumb then, and betray thy native soil To farther plagues.

Tir. I dare not name him to thee.

OEdip. Dar’st thou converse with hell, and canst thou fear An human name?