Per. Scarce was he cool from that embrace this morning,
Which you enjoined, and I sincerely gave; Nor thought he planned my death within my
When, holding vile, oaths, honour, duty, love, He fired our friendly sports to martial rage. If war, why not fair war? But that has danger. From hostile conflict, as from brothers' play, He blushed not to invite me to his banquet. I went not; and in that was I to blame? Think you, there nothing had been found but peace,
From whence, soon after, sallied armed men? Think you I nothing had to fear from swords, When from their foils I scarce escaped with life?
Or poison might his valour suit as well :- This passed, as suits his wisdom, Macedonians, Who vaults o'er elder brothers to a throne. With an armed rout he came to visit me. Did I refuse to go, a bidden guest? And should I welcome him, a threatening foe? Resenting my refusal, boiling for revenge? Dem. 'Tis false.
Aut. Forbear--The king!
Per. Had I received them,
You now had mourned my death, nor heard my
Demetrius' vices, thriving of themselves, Her fulsome flatteries dung to ranker growth. Demetrius is the burden of her song;
| Each river, hill, and dale, has learnt his name; While elder Perseus in a whisper dies. Demetrius treats; Demetrius gives us peace; Demetrius is our god, and would be so. My sight is short: look on him you that can: What sage experience sits upon his brow, What awful marks of wisdom, who vouchsafes To patronize a father, and a king? Such patronage is treason.
King. Treason! Death.
Per. Nor let the ties of blood bind up the hands
Of justice; Nature's ties are broke already : For, who contend before you?—Your two sons?-
No; read aright, 'tis Macedon and Rome. A well-masked foreigner, and your-only son, Guard of your life, and-exile of your love. Now, bear me to my dungeon: what so fit As darkness, chains, and death, for such a trai- tor?
King. Speak, Demetrius.
Ant. My lord, he cannot speak; accept his
Dem. My father! king! and judge! thrice awful power!
Your son, your subject, and your prisoner, hear; Thrice humble state! If I have grace of speech, (Which gives, it seems, offence) be that no crime, Which oft has served my country, and my king: Nor in my brother let it pass for virtue, That, as he is, ungracious he would seem: For, oh! he wants not art, though grace may fail him.
The wonted aids of those that are accused, Has my accuser seized. He shed false tears, That my true sorrows might suspected flow : He seeks my life, and calls me murderer; And vows no refuge can he find on earth, That I may want it in a father's arms;
These sting up accusations in his soul; Turn friendly visits to foul fraud, and murder; And pour in poison to the bowl of love. Merit is treason in a younger brother. King. But clear your conduct with regard to Rome.
Dem. Alas! dread sir, I grieve to find set down
Among my crimes, what ought to be my praise. That I went hostage, or ambassador,
Was Philip's high command, not my request: Indeed, when there, in both those characters, I bore in mind to whom I owed my birth: Rome's favour followed. If it is a crime To be regarded, spare a crime you caused; Caused by your orders, and example too.
Those arms, to which even strangers fly for True, I'm Rome's friend, while Rome is your
King. Speak to your charge.
Dem. He charges me with treason.
If I'm a traitor, if I league with Rome, Why did his zeal forbear me till this hour? Was treason then no crime, till (as he feigns) I sought his life? Dares Perseus hold so much His father's welfare cheaper than his own? Less cause have I, a brother, to complain. He says, I wade for empire through his blood : He says, I place my confidence in Rome : Why murder him, if Rome will crown my brow Will then a sceptre, dipped in brother's blood, Conciliate love, and make my reign secure? False are both charges; and he proves them false,
By placing them together.
Ant. That's well urged.
When not, this hostage, this ambassador, So dear, stands forth the fiercest of her foes; At your command, flies swift on wings of fire, The native thunder of a father's arm.
Ant. There spoke at once the hero and the
Dem. To close-To thee, I grant, some thanks are due; [Speaking to Perseus. Not for thy kindness, but malignity: Thy character's my friend, though thou my foe: For, say, whose temper promises most guilt? Perseus, importunate, demands my death: I do not ask for his: Ah! No! I feel Too powerful nature pleading for him here: But, were there no fraternal tie to bind me, A son of Philip must be dear to me. If you, my father, had been angry with me,
Dem. Mark, sir, how Perseus, unawares, ab- An elder brother, a less awful parent,
From guilt in all, by loading all with guilt. Did I design him poison at my feast? Why then did I provoke him in the field, That, as he did, he might refuse to come? When angry he refused, I should have soothed His roused resentment, and deferred the blow; Not destined him that moment to my sword, Which I before instructed him to shun. Through fear of death, did he decline my ban- quet?
Could I expect admittance then at his? These numerous pleas, at variance, overthrow Each other, and are advocates for me.
Per. No, sir, Posthumius is his advocate. King. Art thou afraid, that I should hear him out?
Dem. Quit then, this picture, this well-painted fear,
And come to that, which touches him indeed. Why is Demetrius not despised of all, His second in endowments, as in birth? How dare I draw the thoughts of Macedon? How dare I gain esteem with foreign powers? Esteem, when gained, how dare I to preserve? These are his secret thoughts; these burn within;
He should assuage you, he should intercede, Soften my failings, and indulge my youth; But my asylum drops its character;
I find not there my rescue, but my ruin. Per. His bold assurance- King. Do not interrupt him; But let thy brother finish his defence.
Dem. O Perseus! how I tremble as I speak! Where is a brother's voice, a brother's eye? Where is the melting of a brother's heart? Where is our awful father's dread command? Where a dear dying mother's last request? Forgot, scorned, hated, trodden under foot! Thy heart, how dead to every call of nature! Unson'd! unbrothered! nay, unhumanized ! Far from affection, as thou art near in blood! Oh! Perseus! Perseus!-But my heart's too full. [Falls on Antigonus.
King. Support him!
Per. Vengeance overtake his crimes! King. No more!
Ant. See from his hoary brow he wipes the dew, Which agony wrings from him.
These boys at strife, like Etna's struggling flames,
Convulsions cause, and make a mountain shake; Shake Philip's firmness, and convulse his heart, And, with a fiery flood of civil war, Threaten to deluge my divided land.
I've heard them both; by neither am convinced; And yet Demetrius' words went through my
A double crime, Demetrius, is your charge; Fondness for Rome, and hatred to your brother. If you can clear your innocence in one,
Twill give us cause to think you wronged in both.
Dem. How shall I clear it, sir?
King. This honest man
Detests the Romans: if you wed his daughter, Rome's foe becomes the guardian of your faith. Dem. I told you, sir, when I returned from Rome
King. How! Dost thou want an absolute command?
Your brother, father, country, all exact it. Ant. See yonder guards at hand, if you re- fuse.
Nay, more; a father, so distressed, demands A son's compassion, to becalm his heart. Oh! sir, comply. [Aside to Demetrius. Dem. There! there indeed you touch me! Besides, if I'm confined, and Perseus free, I never, never shall behold her more. Pardon, ye gods! an artifice forced on me. [Aside to Antigonus. Dread sir, your son complies. [To the king. Dym. Astonishment!
King, Strike off his chains. is free: They wear no bonds, but those of duty, now. Dymas, go thank the prince : he weds your daughter;
And highest honours pay your high desert. [Exeunt all but Dym. and Dem. Dym. O, sir, without presumption, may I dare To lift my ravished thought?-
Dem. In what I've done,
I paid a duty to my father's will:
And set you an example, where 'tis due, Of not with-holding yours.
Dym. My duty, sir,
To you, can never fail.
Dem. Then, Dymas, I request thee,
Go seek the king, and save me from a marriage My brother has contrived, in artful malice, To make me lose my father, or my love. Go, charge the just refusal on thyself.
Dym. What Philip authorizes me to wish, You, sir, may disappoint. But, to take on mé The load of the refusal
Dem. In a degree, destructive of his own, 'Tis yours to disappoint him, or renounce Your duty to your king.
Dym. You'll better tell
Dem. Yes, better tell the king he wounds his honour,
By lifting up a minion from the dust, And mating him with princes! Use your power Against yourself. Yes, use it like a man, In serving him, who gave it. Thus you'll make Indulgence, justice; and absolve your master. Though kings delight in raising what they love, Less owe they to themselves than to the throne; Nor must they prostitute its majesty, To swell a subject's pride, howe'er deserving. Dym. What the king grants me- Dem. Talk not of a grant;
What a king ought not, that he cannot give; And what is more than meet from prince's bounty, Is plunder, not a grant. Think you, his honour A perquisite belonging to your place, As favourite paramount? Preserve the king From doing wrong, though wrong is done for you, And shew, 'tis not in favour to corrupt thee.
Dym. I sought not, sir, this honour. Dem. But would take it.
True majesty's the very soul of kings; And rectitude's the soul of majesty: If mining minions sap that rectitude, The king may live, but majesty expires: And he, that lessens majesty, impairs That just obedience public good requires; Doubly a traitor, to the crown and state.
Dym. Must I refuse what Philip's pleased to give?
Dem. Can a king give thee more than is his own?
Know, a king's dignity is public wealth; On that subsists the nation's fame and power. Shall fawning sycophants, to plump themselves, Eat up their master, and dethrone his glory? What are such wretches? What, but vapours foul,
From fens and bogs, from royal beams exhaled, That radiance intercepting, which should cheer The land at large? Hence subjects' hearts grow cold,
And frozen loyalty forgets to flow:
But, then 'tis slippery standing for the minion: Stains on his crmine, to their royal master Such miscreants are; not jewels in his crown. If you persist, sir-But, of words no more! To me, to threat, is harder than to do.
Dym. Let me embrace this genuine son of empire!
When warm debates divide the doubtful land, Should I not know the prince most fit to reign? I've tried you as an eagle tries her young, And find, your dauntless eye is fixed on glory. I'll to the king, and your commands obey.- We must give young men opiates in a fever.
Yes, boy, I will obey thee, to thy ruin! Erixene shall strike thee dead for this!
[Exit Dymas. Dem. These statesmen nothing woo but gold and power;
I'm a bold advocate for other love, Though, at their bar, indicted for a fool. When reason, like the skilful charioteer, Can break the fiery passions to the bit, And, spite of their licentious sallies, keep The radiant track of glory-passions, then,
Are aids and ornaments. Triumphant reason, Firm in her seat, and swift in her career, Enjoys their violence, and, smiling, thanks Their formidable flame, for high renown. Take, then, my soul, fair maid! 'tis wholly thine; And thence I feel an energy divine. When objects worthy praise our hearts approve, Each virtue grows on consecrated love: And, sure, soft passion claims to be forgiven, When love of beauty is the love of Heaven. [Exit.
Erix. 'Tis plain! 'tis plain! this marriage gains her father:
He, joined to Rome, the crown. Thy words were true;
He woos the diadem; that diadem, which I Despised for him. Oh, how unlike our loves! But it is well; he gives me my revenge.
Wed Dymas' daughter! What a fall is there! Not the world's empire could repair his glory. Del. Madam, you can't be moved too much! But why
More now than at the first?
Erir. At first I doubted:
For who, that loved like me, could have believed?
I disbelieved what Pericles reported; And thought it Perseus' art to wound our loves. But when the good Antigonus, sworn friend To false Demetrius, when his word confirmed it, Then passion took me, as the northern blast An autumn leaf. O Gods! the dreadful whirl! But, while I speak, he's with her: laughs and plays;
Mingles his dalliance with insulting mirth; To this new goddess offers up my tears; Yes, with my shame and torture, wooes her love. I see, hear, feel it! O these raging fires! Can then the thing we scorn give so much pain? Del. Madam, these transports give him cause to triumph!
Erix. I vent my grief to thee; he ne'er shall know it;
If I can't conquer, I'll conceal my passion, And stifle all its pangs beneath disdain.
Del. The greatest minds are most relenting too;
If then Demetrius should repent his crime- Erix. If still my passion burns, it shall burn inward:
On the fierce rack in silence I'll expire, Before one sigh escape me.--He repent! What wild extravagance of thought is thine! But did he? Who repents, has once been false: In love, repentance but declares our guilt;
Peri. Sir, your ambassadors arrived from Rome-- [Presents a letter. King. Ha! I must read it; this will tell me [After reading it. Oh, princess! Now our only comfort flows From your indulgence to my better son. This dreadful news precipitates my wish. To keep rapacious Rome from seizing Thrace, You cannot wed too soon: my fair ally! What if you bless me and my son to-morrow? Erix. Since you request, and your affairs de- mand it,
Del. I cannot but praise this triumph, but I
The combat still. And see, the foe draws near. Enter DEMETRIUS,
Dem. Erixene! Erix. My lord?
Dem. My pale cheek speaks;
My trembling limbs prevent my faultering tongue, And ask you-
Erix. What, my lord?
Dem. My lord? Her eyes
Confirm it true, and yet, without a crime, I can't believe it. Oh, Erixene-
Erix. I guess your meaning, sir; but am sur- prised
That Dymas' son should think of aught I do. Dem. False are my senses! False both car and eye!
All, all be rather false than her I love! Erir. She passed not, sir, this way. Dem. Is then my pain
Your sport? And can Erixene pretend Herself deceived by what deceived the king? An artifice made use of for sake; A proof, not violation, of my love?
Erix. I thought not of your love, nor artifice; Both were forgot; or rather, never known. But, without artifice, I tell you this; Your brother lays his sceptre at my feet- And whose example bids my heart resist The charms of empire?
Dem. This is woman's skill;
You cease to love, and from my conduct strive To labour an excuse. For if, indeed,
You thought me false, had you been thus serene, Calm and unruffled! No; my heart says, no. Passions, if great, though turned to their reverse, Keep their degree, and are great passions still. And she, who, when she thinks her lover false,
Without a blush, I think I may comply. King. Oh, daughter!-but no more; the gods Retains her temper, never lost her heart.
I go to bless my Perseus with the news. Dym. Thus the boy's dead in empire and in [Exeunt King, Dymas, &c. Erix. I triumph! I'm revenged! I reign! I reign!
Nor thank Demetrius' treason for a crown. Love is our own cause, honour is the gods'. I can be glorious without happiness; But without glory never can be blest.
Del. 'Tis well: but can you wed the man, you
Erix. Wed any thing, for vengeance on the perjured.
I'll now insult him from an higher sphere: This unexpected turn may gall his pride. Whate'er has pangs for him, has charms for me.
Del. A rooted love is scarce so soon removed. Erix. If not, the greater virtue to controul it; And strike at his heart, though 'tis through my
Erir. That I'm serene, says not I never loved: Indeed, the vulgar float as passion drives; But noble minds have reason for their queen. While you deserved, my passion was sincere: You change, my passion dies. But, pardon, sir, If my vain mind thinks anger is too much; Take my neglect, I can afford no more.
Dem. No? rage! flame! thunder! give a thousand deaths!
Oh, rescue me from this more dreadful calm! This cursed indifference! which, like a frost In northern seas, outdoes the fiercest storm. Commanded by my father to comply,
I feigned obedience: had I then refused- Erix. I grant the consequence had been most dreadful!
I grant, that Dymas' daughter had been angry. Dem. Ask Dymas with what rage- Erir. You well might rage, To be refused.
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