 | The Brothers |  |
Enter Perseus.
Perseus.
Cowards in Ill, like Cowards in the Field,
Are sure to be defeated. To strike home,
In both, is Prudence: Guilt, begun, must fly
To Guilt consummate, to be safe.
Enter Pericles.
Pericles.
My Lord—
Perseus.
Disturb not my Devotions; they decline
The beaten Track, the common Path of Pray'r—
Ye Pow'rs of Darkness! that rejoice in Ill;
All sworn by Styx, with pestilential Blasts
To wither every Virtue in the Bud;
To keep the Door of dark Conspiracy,
And snuff the grateful Fumes of human Blood!
From Sulphur blue, or your red Beds of Fire,
Or your black ebon Thrones, auspicious rise;
And, bursting thro' the Barriers of this World,
Stand in dread Contrast to the golden Sun;
Fright Daylight hence with your infernal Smiles,
And howl aloud your formidable Joy,
While I transport you with the fair Record
Of what your faithful Minister has done,
Beyond your Inspiration, self-impell'd,
To spread your Empire, and secure his own.
Hear, and applaud.—Now, Pericles! proceed:
Speak, is the Letter forg'd?
Pericles.
This Moment; and might cheat
The cunning Eye of Jealousy itself.
Perseus.
'Tis well: Art thou appris'd of what hath past
Since last we parted?
Pericles.
No, my Lord.
Perseus.
Then rouse
Thy whole Attention: Here we are in private:
Know then, my Pericles, the mock Encounter
I turn'd, as taught by thee, to real Rage.
But blasted be the Cowards which I led!
They trembled at a Boy.
Pericles.
Ha!
Perseus.
Mark me well:
The Villains fled; but soon my Prudence turn'd
To good Account that momentary Shame.
Thus—I pretend 'twas voluntary Flight
To save a Brother's Blood; accusing him
As Author of that Conflict I declin'd,
And he pursu'd with Ardour and Success.
Pericles.
That's artful. What ensu'd?
Perseus.
The Banquet follow'd,
Held by the Victor, as our Rites require:
To which his easy Nature, soon appeas'd,
Invited me. I went not; but sent Spies
To learn what past; which Spies, by chance detected,
(Observe me) were ill us'd.
Pericles.
By whom? your Brother?
Perseus.
No; by his Sons of Riot. He soon after,
Not knowing that my Servants were abus'd,
Kind, and gay-hearted, came to visit me.
They, who misus'd my Spies, for Self-defence,
Conceal'd their Arms beneath the Robes of Peace.
Of this inform'd, again my Genius serv'd me.—
Pericles.
You took Occasion, from these few in Arms,
To charge a murderous Assault on all.
Perseus.
True, Pericles: But mark my whole Address:
Against my Brother swift I bar my Gates;
Fly to my Father; and with artful Tears
Accuse Demetrius; first, of turning Sports,
And guiltless Exercise, to mortal Rage;
Then, of inviting me (still blacker Guilt!)
To smiling Death in an invenom'd Bowl;
And, last, that, both these failing, mad with Rage,
He threw his Schemes of baffled Art aside,
And with arm'd Men avow'dly sought my Life.
Pericles.
Three startling Atticles, and well concerted,
Following each other in an easy Train,
With fair Similitude of Truth! But, Sir,
How bore your Father?
Perseus.
Oh! he shook! he fell!
Nor was his fleeting Soul recall'd with Ease.
Pericles.
What said he, when recovered?
Perseus.
His Resolve
I know not yet; but, see, his Minion comes;
And comes perhaps to tell me—But I'll go;
Sustain my Part, and echo loud my Wrongs.
Nought so like Innocence, as perfect Guilt.
If he brings aught of Moment, you'll inform me.
[As Perseus goes off, he is seiz'd by Officers.
Enter Dymas.
Pericles.
Ev'n as the King?
Dymas.
Ev'n as an aged Oak
Pusht to and fro, the Labour of the Storm;
Whose largest Branches are struck off by Thunder:
Yet still he lives, and on the Mountain groans;
Strong in Affliction, awful from his Wounds,
And more rever'd in Ruin, than in Glory.
Pericles.
I hear Prince Perseus has accus'd his Brother.
Dymas.
True; and the King's Commands are now gone forth
To throw them both in Chains; for farther Thought
Makes Philip doubt the Truth of Perseus' Charge.
Pericles.
What then is his Design?
Dymas.
They both this Hour
Must plead their Cause before him. Nay, already,
His Nobles, Judges, Counsellors, are met;
And public Justice wears her sternest Form:
A more momentous Trial ne'er was known;
Whether the Pleaders you survey as Brothers,
Or Princes known in Arts, or fam'd for Arms;
Whether you ponder, in their awful Judge,
The tender Parent, or the mighty King.
Greece, Athens hears the Cause: The great Result
Is Life, or Death; is Infamy, or Fame.
[Trumpet.
Pericles.
What Trumpets these?
Dymas.
They summon to the Court.
[Exeunt.
Perseus.
Cowards in Ill, like Cowards in the Field,
Are sure to be defeated. To strike home,
In both, is Prudence: Guilt, begun, must fly
To Guilt consummate, to be safe.
Enter Pericles.
Pericles.
My Lord—
Perseus.
Disturb not my Devotions; they decline
The beaten Track, the common Path of Pray'r—
Ye Pow'rs of Darkness! that rejoice in Ill;
All sworn by Styx, with pestilential Blasts
To wither every Virtue in the Bud;
To keep the Door of dark Conspiracy,
And snuff the grateful Fumes of human Blood!
From Sulphur blue, or your red Beds of Fire,
Or your black ebon Thrones, auspicious rise;
And, bursting thro' the Barriers of this World,
Stand in dread Contrast to the golden Sun;
Fright Daylight hence with your infernal Smiles,
And howl aloud your formidable Joy,
While I transport you with the fair Record
Of what your faithful Minister has done,
Beyond your Inspiration, self-impell'd,
To spread your Empire, and secure his own.
Hear, and applaud.—Now, Pericles! proceed:
29
Pericles.
This Moment; and might cheat
The cunning Eye of Jealousy itself.
Perseus.
'Tis well: Art thou appris'd of what hath past
Since last we parted?
Pericles.
No, my Lord.
Perseus.
Then rouse
Thy whole Attention: Here we are in private:
Know then, my Pericles, the mock Encounter
I turn'd, as taught by thee, to real Rage.
But blasted be the Cowards which I led!
They trembled at a Boy.
Pericles.
Ha!
Perseus.
Mark me well:
The Villains fled; but soon my Prudence turn'd
To good Account that momentary Shame.
Thus—I pretend 'twas voluntary Flight
To save a Brother's Blood; accusing him
As Author of that Conflict I declin'd,
And he pursu'd with Ardour and Success.
Pericles.
That's artful. What ensu'd?
Perseus.
The Banquet follow'd,
Held by the Victor, as our Rites require:
To which his easy Nature, soon appeas'd,
Invited me. I went not; but sent Spies
To learn what past; which Spies, by chance detected,
(Observe me) were ill us'd.
Pericles.
By whom? your Brother?
30
No; by his Sons of Riot. He soon after,
Not knowing that my Servants were abus'd,
Kind, and gay-hearted, came to visit me.
They, who misus'd my Spies, for Self-defence,
Conceal'd their Arms beneath the Robes of Peace.
Of this inform'd, again my Genius serv'd me.—
Pericles.
You took Occasion, from these few in Arms,
To charge a murderous Assault on all.
Perseus.
True, Pericles: But mark my whole Address:
Against my Brother swift I bar my Gates;
Fly to my Father; and with artful Tears
Accuse Demetrius; first, of turning Sports,
And guiltless Exercise, to mortal Rage;
Then, of inviting me (still blacker Guilt!)
To smiling Death in an invenom'd Bowl;
And, last, that, both these failing, mad with Rage,
He threw his Schemes of baffled Art aside,
And with arm'd Men avow'dly sought my Life.
Pericles.
Three startling Atticles, and well concerted,
Following each other in an easy Train,
With fair Similitude of Truth! But, Sir,
How bore your Father?
Perseus.
Oh! he shook! he fell!
Nor was his fleeting Soul recall'd with Ease.
Pericles.
What said he, when recovered?
Perseus.
His Resolve
I know not yet; but, see, his Minion comes;
And comes perhaps to tell me—But I'll go;
Sustain my Part, and echo loud my Wrongs.
Nought so like Innocence, as perfect Guilt.
If he brings aught of Moment, you'll inform me.
[As Perseus goes off, he is seiz'd by Officers.
31
Pericles.
Ev'n as the King?
Dymas.
Ev'n as an aged Oak
Pusht to and fro, the Labour of the Storm;
Whose largest Branches are struck off by Thunder:
Yet still he lives, and on the Mountain groans;
Strong in Affliction, awful from his Wounds,
And more rever'd in Ruin, than in Glory.
Pericles.
I hear Prince Perseus has accus'd his Brother.
Dymas.
True; and the King's Commands are now gone forth
To throw them both in Chains; for farther Thought
Makes Philip doubt the Truth of Perseus' Charge.
Pericles.
What then is his Design?
Dymas.
They both this Hour
Must plead their Cause before him. Nay, already,
His Nobles, Judges, Counsellors, are met;
And public Justice wears her sternest Form:
A more momentous Trial ne'er was known;
Whether the Pleaders you survey as Brothers,
Or Princes known in Arts, or fam'd for Arms;
Whether you ponder, in their awful Judge,
The tender Parent, or the mighty King.
Greece, Athens hears the Cause: The great Result
Is Life, or Death; is Infamy, or Fame.
[Trumpet.
Pericles.
What Trumpets these?
Dymas.
They summon to the Court.
[Exeunt.
| The Brothers | |