DIMAS.
Since the king's death
PHILOCTETES.
The king! ha! Laius—
DIMAS.
Died
Some four years since.
PHILOCTETES.
Ha! Laius dead! indeed!
What sweet seducing hope awakes my soul?
Jocaste! will the gods at length be kind?
May Philoctetes still be thine? But say,
Dimas, how fell the king?
DIMAS.
'Tis four years since
For the last time towards Bœotia, led
By fate, you came; scarce had you bent your way
To Asia, e'er the unhappy Laius fell
By some base hand.
PHILOCTETES.
Assassinated, sayest thou?
DIMAS.
This was the cause, the source of all our ills,
The ruin of this wretched country: shocked
At the sad stroke, we wept the general loss,
When lo! the minister of wrath divine,
(Fatal to innocence, and favoring long
Unpunished guilt) a dreadful monster came,
(O Philoctetes, would thou hadst been here!)
And ravaged all our borders, horrid form!
Made for destruction by avenging heaven,
With human voice, an eagle, woman, lion,
