University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

Timoleon, Timophanes.
Tim.
Once more, my brother, I behold thee here;
Within these lares, though inflexibly
By thee deserted, always thine. I grieve
That only the entreaties of my mother,
And not thy own spontaneous will, to-day
Restore thee to my sight.

Timol.
Timophanes ...

Tim.
What do I hear?—thou call'st me no more brother?
Perchance thou deem'st it a disgrace?

Timol.
One blood,
One mother, and one country, gave us birth,
Timophanes: a brother hitherto
I am to thee; thou callest me a brother.

Tim.
Ah! what unmerited and harsh rebuke
To me thou offerest! ... In which of us
Did anger first arise? What do I say?
Anger 'twixt us? Thou only art with me
Incensed. From me thou fleddest; thou didst first
From our maternal home withdraw thy feet.
Did I not, to retain thee there, employ
Tears and entreaties? But thou gavest ear
More willingly to injurious calumnies
Than to my cries. To thy rage, rage, oh no!
But love, forbearance, reason I opposed
In vain.—Thou seest now in what esteem
I hold thee: in the arms of prosperous fate
Me thou abandonedst; hence I indulged
A hope, nay, certain faith, that I should find thee
In adverse fate a refuge: I meanwhile
Hoped evermore to soften thee, and make thee
Enter as partner in my joyful state ...

Timol.
Joyful! Oh! what say'st thou? How speedily,
Since I have ceased to see thee, hast thou past,
Beyond all bounds, the licence of misrule!
To shed blood every day, a joyful state!

Tim.
But thou thyself, whose days were evermore
Illumed by justice and controul'd by truth,
Didst thou not gain for me the power I hold,
The guerdon of my services, thyself?
What force then is it of an adverse fate
Which always causes, if one man shed blood,
The action to be deem'd tyrannical,
While if a number share in shedding it,
'Tis call'd a deed of justice?

Timol.
Hear me.—We
Brought up together, fully know each other.
Ambitious, thus prevented from obeying;
Impetuous, which made evermore to thee
All moderate command impossible:
Such in thy house, in Corinth, in the camp,
Wert thou.

Tim.
Dost thou for the gift perchance
Of victory and life upbraid me now,
Which it seemed good to thy discerning valour
To give me in the camp?

Timol.
That gift of mine
Arose from duty, not beneficence;
At that conjuncture fortune smiled on me.
Now make me not repent it. Than thyself
I never saw a more accomplish'd warrior:
Nor a more valiant leader than thou wert
Did Corinth e'er possess. But afterwards,
When from internal broils it was esteem'd
A cure (and of all ills it was the worst)
To keep a standing army, and elect
Over that army a perpetual head,
If thou wert chosen to the perilous honour,
If on thyself the military power,
Join'd to the civil, fell, impute not thou
To me the fault. I do not controvert,
I was reluctant to appear myself
More diffident for a brother, than I saw
That others for a mere compatriot were.
But for thee, from that day, for thee I trembled,
And for my country more; nor in my heart
Did envy enter; no, I wept alone
At thy distinction.

Tim.
My distinction! How?
Was it not also thine? My counsellor,
My friend, my leader, wert thou not to me,
If so thou wouldest? and had we put forth,
Thy judgment thou, and I my enterprize,
Whom should we then have fear'd?

Timol.
Whether thou deem
Thyself my brother or my monarch, now
In all respects inaptly thou with me
Adoptest flatteries.—Oh, what sayest thou?
Wert thou not deaf to every word of mine,
From that disastrous day when thou wert raised
To unprecedented, unaccustomed power?—
Was not our former unpretending dwelling
Begirt with guards? Proudly with royal pomp
Didst thou not issue thence? On every face
Mingled alarm and indignation sate.
The thresholds of this house, no longer mine,
By impious sycophants besieged. To truth
Denied all entrance; impious detractors,
Thirsting for gold and blood, audaciously
Flocking in crowds; and mercenary spies
And satellites, and tears, and arms, and quarrels,
Silence and terror ... Saw I not all this? ...
And do not I (ah too much!) see it yet?
Could such a fierce and ominous assemblage
Form a fit train for me? Hence I withdrew,
For this was not a citizen's abode;
And in my bosom, far more yet than anger,
I carried with me pity for thyself,
And for thy error and infatuate pride.
I palliated thy repeated faults
For a long time; the people and the nobles,
Heard me asseverate often that thou would'st not
E'er make thyself a tyrant. Wretched me!
For thee degraded, for thy sake become
A liar, I almost, in thy cause, was
A traitor to my country; for thy heart
I fully understood. Ungrateful brother!
To rescue thee from danger, and avert,
Through thy means, such dishonour to myself,
Thus did I act; and not to clear for thee
A way to guilty power, but to leave thee
One for repentance ...

Tim.
And for this intent
Thou hast selected in my stead new brothers
'Mid my most open, bitterest enemies ...

Timol.
The few remaining lovers of their country
In them I've chosen. I consort with these,
Not from my hate to thee, but love to them;
And haply to suspend (since thou wilt not
Divert it from thee) that just lofty vengeance
Which every citizen that loves his country
Cannot deny to it. I would not at first
Thy arbitrary impulses restrain.
In this I greatly err'd: to shelter thee
From that disgrace thou had'st incurr'd so justly,
I suffered thee, without reproof, to spill
Innocent blood; or haply if 'twere guilty,
Blood spill'd by thee beyond all use of law.
Too much I loved thee; too much was thy brother,
Beyond the duty of a citizen.
I welcomed the illusion, that the hate,
The restless terror, and the dark suspicion,
That always emulously agitate
The irresolute heart of every man that dares
To make himself a tyrant, tearing thine
Little by little, yet for ever tearing,
Would be too fierce a torment; and at once
A spur to penitence ... In this I hoped,
I hope it still; yes, brother, and dare more
Conjure thee to it; by these tears unfeigned,
These patriotic and fraternal tears,
That thou beholdest coursing down my cheeks,
And by the suppliant accents of a man
That never trembled for himself, repent!
The day at length is come; thou art arrived
At that imperative and fearful point
Between a tyrant and a citizen,
From which thou must precipitately fly,
Or everlastingly resign thy brother.

Tim.
Archidas speaks in thee: his sentiments
I recognize too plainly!