he first-wrought vengeance is born
A long succession of crimes.
Fresh blood flows, calling for blood.
Fathers, sons, grandsons, are all
One death-dealing vengeful train.

_AEpytus_

Mother, thy fears are idle; for I come
To close an old wound, not to open new.
In all else willing to be taught, in this
Instruct me not; I have my lesson clear.--
Arcas, seek out my uncle Laias, now
Conferring in the city with our friends;
Here bring him, ere the king come back from council.
That, how to accomplish what the Gods enjoin,
And the slow-ripening time at last prepares,
We two with thee, my mother, may consult;
For whose help dare I count on, if not thine?

_Merope_

Approves my brother Laias this intent?

_AEpytus_

Yes, and alone is with me here to share.

_Merope_

And what of thine Arcadian mate, who bears
Suspicion from thy grandsire of thy death,
For whom, as I suppose, thou passest here?

_AEpytus_

Sworn to our plot he is; if false surmise
Fix him the author of my death, I know not.

_Merope_

Proof, not surmise, shows him in commerce close----

_AEpytus_

With this Messenian tyrant--that I know.

_Merope_

And entertain'st thou, child, such dangerous friends?

_AEpytus_

This commerce for my best behoof he plies.

_Merope_

That thou may'st read thine enemy's counsel plain?

_AEpytus_

Too dear his secret wiles have cost our house.

_Merope_

And of his unsure agent what demands he?

_AEpytus_

News of my business, pastime, temper, friends.

_Merope_

His messages, then, point not to thy murder?

_AEpytus_

Not yet, though such, no doubt, his final aim.

_Merope_

And what Arcadian helpers bring'st thou here?

_AEpytus_

Laias alone; no errand mine for crowds.

_Merope_

On what relying, to crush such a foe?

_AEpytus_

One sudden stroke, and the Messenians' love.

_Merope_

O thou long-lost, long seen in dreams alone,
But now seen face to face, my only child!
Why wilt thou fly to lose as soon as found
My new-won treasure, thy beloved life?
Or how expectest not to lose, who com'st
With such slight means to cope with such a foe?
Thine enemy thou know'st not, nor his strength.
The stroke thou purposest is desperate, rash--
Yet grant that it succeeds--thou hast behi