, the malady
Grew more domestic, and the faithful dog
Died at his master's feet[1].

_Dioc._ And next, his master:
For all those plagues, which earth and air had brooded,
First on inferior creatures tried their force,
And last they seized on man.

_Pyr._ And then a thousand deaths at once advanced,
And every dart took place; all was so sudden,
That scarce a first man fell; one but began
To wonder, and straight fell a wonder too;
A third, who stooped to raise his dying friend,
Dropt in the pious act.--Heard you that groan? [_Groan within._

_Dioc._ A troop of ghosts took flight together there.
Now death's grown riotous, and will play no more
For single stakes, but families and tribes.
How are we sure we breathe not now our last,
And that, next minute,
Our bodies, cast into some common pit,
Shall not be built upon, and overlaid
By half a people?

_Alc._ There's a chain of causes
Linked to effects; invincible necessity,
That whate'er is, could not but so have been;
That's my security.

_To them, enter_ CREON.

_Cre._ So had it need, when all our streets lie covered
With dead and dying men;
And earth exposes bodies on the pavements,
More than she hides in graves.
Betwixt the bride and bridegroom have I seen
The nuptial torch do common offices
Of marriage and of death.

_Dioc._ Now OEdipus
(If he return from war, our other plague)
Will scarce find half he left, to grace his triumphs.

_Pyr._ A feeble paean will be sung before him.

_Alc._ He would do well to bring the wives and children
Of conquered Argians, to renew his Thebes.

_Cre._ May funerals meet him at the city gates,
With their detested omen!

_Dioc._ Of his children.

_Cre._ Nay, though she be my sister, of his wife.

_Alc._ O that our Thebes might once again behold
A monarch, Theban born!

_Dioc._ We might have had one.

_Pyr._ Yes, had the people pleased.

_Cre._ Come, you are my friends:
The queen my sister, after Laius' death,
Feared to lie single; and supplied his place
With a young successor.

_Dioc._ He much resembles
Her former husband too.

_Alc._ I always thought so.

_Pyr._ When twenty winters more have grizzled his black locks,
He will be very Laius.

_Cre._ So he will.
Meantime, she stands provided of a Laius,
More young, and vigorous too, by twenty springs.
These women are such cunning purveyors!
Mark, where their appetites have once been pleased,
The same resemblance, in a younger lover,
Lies bro