That jealousy, though just, is still a crime; To kill a bride, a mistress unenjoyed— Love was her errand, but the hot-brain'd Spaniard, 'Twere some excuse, had the poor man been Madam had then been pleas'd, and Don con cloy'd: To kill her on suspicion, ere he knew tented, And all this blood and murder been prevented.→ THE BROTHERS. BY YOUNG. PROLOGUE. 1 WRITTEN BY MR. DODSLEY. THE tragic muse, revolving many a page And pity throbs in every feeling breast; Not he who cannot weep, but he who can, And from their frailties learn to mend your own. SCENE I. Enter CURTIUS and POSTHUMIUS. ACT I. Cur. There's something of magnificence about us, I have not seen at Rome. But you can tell me. Cur. His pride presumes To treat us here like subjects more than Romans, More than ambassadors, who in our bosoms Bear peace and war, and throw him which we please, As Jove his storm, or sunshine, on his creatures. Post. This Philip only, since Rome's glory rose, Preserves its grandeur to the name of king; As the grey dawn before the blaze of noon: Post. It pains me To turn my thought on his domestic state. Cur. But whence this strife, Which thus afflicts him? Post. From this Philip's bed Two Alexanders spring. Cur. And but one world? "Twill never do. Post. They both are bright; but one, Cur. You mean Perseus. The younger son, Demetrius, you well know, Rome; Who granted peace, declaring she forgave Cur. Glows there not The fair Erixene. Cur. I've partly heard Her smothered story. Post. Smothered by the king; And slew him, bold in vain; nor rested there, Two little sons within their mother's arms; One child alone survived; a female infant, Post. Stung with sharp remorse, Cur. Is, then, Erixene that Thracian child? How just the gods! from out that ruined house He took a brand, to set his own on fire. Post. To give thee, friend, the whole in minia- This is the picture of great Philip's court: 'Tis their great day, supreme of all their year, Cur. Who comes? Enter PERSEUS and PERICles. Per. 'Tis empire! empire! empire! let that word Make sacred all I do, or can attempt! Per. Why does Rome court him? For his virtues? No. power. To fire him to dominion; to blow up His youth and valour second Rome's designs: Become all wise, all righteous, and almighty! Peri. And does that pain you? Per. O Pericles, to death! It is most true, Through hate to him, and not through love for her, I paid my first addresses; but became The fool I feigned: my sighs are now sincere. It smarts; it burns: O that 'twere fiction still! By Heaven, she seems more beauteous than dominion! What pomps are due to this illustrious day? Per. I am no gew-gaw for the throng to gaze at: Some are designed by nature but for shew; Dem. Brother, of that no more: for shame, gird on Your glittering arms, and look like any Roman. Dem. 'Tis that helmet, Which Alexander wore at Granicus. Per. When he subdued the world? Ha! is't not so ? What world hast thou subdued? O yes, the fair! Think'st thou there could, in Macedon, be found No brow might suit that golden blaze but thine? Dem. I wore it but to grace this sacred day: Jar not for trifles. Per. Nothing is a trifle, That argues the presumption of the soul. serve. Per. Or who, deserving, scorn superior merit. Dem. Who combats with a brother, wounds himself: Wave private wrath, and rush upon the foes Per. No; I would not wound Dem. Demetrius' friends! You copy Hannibal, our great ally: Say, at what altar was you sworn their foe? Peace-making brother! Wherefore bring you peace, But to prevent my glory from the field? Peri. Dominion and the princess both are lost, The peace, you bring, was meant as war to me. Unless you gain the king. Per. But how to gain him? Old men love novelties; the last arrived First in esteem, and keeper of his heart. Per. To Dymas thou, and win him to thy will. In the mean time, I'll seek my double rival; Curb his presumption, and erect myself In all the dignity of birth before him. Whate'er can stir the blood, or sway the mind, Is now at stake; and double is the loss, When an inferior bears away the prize. Peri. Your brother, dressed for the solemnity! Per. To Dymas fly! gain him, and think on this; A prince indebted is a fortune made. [Exit PERICLES. Enter DEMETRIUS. Dem. Perseus, be bold when danger's all your Dem. How, brother! unattired? Have you for- And how has Philip mourned? a dreadful foe, got And awful king; but, oh! the tenderest parent, That ever wept, in fondness, o'er a child. Per. Why, ay, go tell your father; fondly throw Your arms around him; stroke him to your pur pose, As you are wont: I boast not so much worth; To be surveyed, and hung about his neck; One way you may secure your father's peace; Dem. You flatter me, to think her in my power. We run our fates together: you deserve, And she can judge: proceed we, then, like friends; And he, who gains her heart, and gains it fairly, Let him enjoy his generous rival's too. Per. Smooth-speaking, insincere, insulting boy! Is, then, my crown usurped but half thy crime? Desist; or by the gods, that smile on blood, Not thy fine form, nor yet thy boasted peace, Nor patronizing Rome, nor Philip's tears, Nor Alexander's helmet; no, nor more, His radiant form, should it alight in thunder, And spread its new divinity between us, Should save a brother from a brother's fury! [Exit. Dem. How's this? the waves ne'er ran thus high before; Resign thee! yes, Erixene, with life! But Perseus warns me to rouse all my powers. Enter King and ANTIGONUS. King. Kings of their envy cheat a foolish world : Fate gives us all in spite, that we alone Might have the pain of knowing all is nothing! The seeming means of bliss but heighten woe, When impotent to make their promise good: Hence, kings, at least, bid fairest to be wretched. Ant. True, sir; 'tis empty, or tormenting, all ; The days of life are sisters; all alike, None just the same; which serves to fool us on Through blasted hopes with change of fallacy: While joy is like to-morrow, still to come; Nor ends the fruitless chase but in the grave! King. Ay, there, Antigonus, this pain will | Conscience, what art thou? thou tremendous power! Who dost inhabit us without our leave; As with a peal of thunder, to strange horrors, The gods impose, the gods inflict, my thoughts, me, And pointed at their wounds! How throbbed my heart! How shook my couch! and when the morning came, The formidable picture still subsisted, Ant. My lord, I do confess the gods are with us; King. Vain comfort! I this moment overheard My jarring sons, with fury, shake my walls. Ah! why my curse from those, who ought to bless me! The queen of Thrace can answer that sad question. She had two sons; but two: and so have I. Ant. I own, I think it time your sons receive But other cares demand you now,-the Romans. King. O change of pain! the Romans? Perish Rome! Thrice happy they, who sleep in humble life, Beneath the storm ambition blows. 'Tis meet The great should have the fame of happiness, |