_AEpytus_

Orestes in Mycenae had no more.

_Merope_

He to fulfil an order raised his hand.

_AEpytus_

What order more precise had he than I?

_Merope_

Apollo peal'd it from his Delphian cave.

_AEpytus_

A mother's murder needed hest divine.

_Merope_

He had a hest, at least, and thou hast none.

_AEpytus_

The Gods command not where the heart speaks clear.

_Merope_

Thou wilt destroy, I see, thyself and us.

_AEpytus_

O suffering! O calamity! how ten,
How twentyfold worse are ye, when your blows
Not only wound the sense, but kill the soul,
The noble thought, which is alone the man!
That I, to-day returning, find myself
Orphan'd of both my parents--by his foes
My father, by your strokes my mother slain!
For this is not my mother, who dissuades,
At the dread altar of her husband's tomb,
His son from vengeance on his murderer;
And not alone dissuades him, but compares
His just revenge to an unnatural deed,
A deed so awful, that the general tongue
Fluent of horrors, falters to relate it--
Of darkness so tremendous, that its author,
Though to his act empower'd, nay, impell'd,
By the oracular sentence of the Gods,
Fled, for years after, o'er the face of earth,
A frenzied wanderer, a God-driven man,
And hardly yet, some say, hath found a grave--
With such a deed as _this_ thou matchest mine,
Which Nature sanctions, which the innocent blood
Clamours to find fulfill'd, which good men praise,
And only bad men joy to see undone!
O honour'd father! hide thee in thy grave
Deep as thou canst, for hence no succour comes;
Since from thy faithful subjects what revenge
Canst thou expect, when thus thy widow fails?
Alas! an adamantine strength indeed,
Past expectation, hath thy murderer built;
For this is the true strength of guilty kings,
When they corrupt the souls of those they rule.

_The Chorus_

Zeal makes him most unjust; but, in good time,
Here, as I guess, the noble Laias comes.

_Laias_

Break off, break off your talking, and depart
Each to his post, where the occasion calls;
Lest from the council-chamber presently
The King return, and find you prating here.
A time will come for greetings; but to-day
The hour for words is gone, is come for deeds.

_AEpytus_

O princely Laias! to what purpose cal