Unfolds the glories of this antient empire,
And throngs the pride of ages in an hour.

POSTHUMIUS. [Pointing.]

What figure's that, O Philip! which precedes?

KING.

The founder of our Empire, furious son
Of great Alcides. We're ally'd to heav'n;
And you, I think, call Romulus a god.-
That, Philip, second of our name; and here,
O bend with awe to him, whose red right hand
Hurl'd proud Darius like a star from heav'n,
With lesser lights around him, flaming down,
And bid the laurell'd sons of Macedonia

Drink their own Ganges.

PERSEUS.

[Aside to Demetrius.]

Give him his helmet, brother.

KING. [To his sons.]

You lead the troops that join in mock encounter ;

And in no other may you ever meet!

But march one way, and drive the world before you.

The victor, as our antient rites decree,

Must hold a feast, and triumph in the bowl.

DEMETRIUS.

I long, my lord, to see the charge begin;
The brandish'd faulchion, and the clashing helm,
Tho' but in sport; it is a sport for men.
Raw Alexander thus began his fame,

And overthrew Darius, first, at home.

We'll practise o'er the plans of future conquests,

:

While neighbouring nations tremble at our play; And own the fault in fortune, not in us,

That we but want a foe to be immortal.

PERSEUS.

You have supply'd my wants: I thank

you,

brother.

KING. [Rising, and coming forwards. Music.]

How vain all outward effort to supply
The soul with joy! the noon-tide sun is dark,
And music discord, when the heart is low:
Avert its omen! What a damp hangs on me!
These sprightly tuneful airs but skim along
The surface of my soul, not enter there:
She does not dance to this inchanting sound.
How, like a broken instrument, beneath
The skilful touch, my joyless heart lies dead!
Nor answers to the master's hand divine!

ANTIGONUS.

When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys
Fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees,
At ev'ry little breath misfortune blows;
Till, left quite naked of their happiness,
In the chill blasts of winter they expire.

This is the common lot. Have comfort then:
Your grief will damp the triumph.

KING.

It is over.

Hear too; the trumpet calls us to the field,
And now this phantom of a fight begins.

Fair princess, you and I will go together,

As Priam and bright Helen did of old,

To view the war. Your eyes will make them bolder, And raise the price of victory itself.

[All go out but Perseus, who has observed Demetrius. and Erixene all this time conversing, and stays behind thoughtful and disturb'd.

Before

PERSEUS.

my face she feeds him with her smiles:
The king looks on, nor disapproves the crime;
And the boy takes them as not due to me,
Without remorse, as happy as she'll make him.
Perish all three! I'll seek allies elsewhere;
Father and brother, nay, a mistress too.
Destruction, rise! Though thou art black as night
Thy mother, and as hideous as despair;
I'll clasp thee thus, nor think of woman more.
How the boy doats, and drinks in at his eyes
Her poison! O to stab him in her arms!
And yet do less than they have done to me.

Enter PERICLES

PERICLES.

Where is my prince? The nation's on the wing;
No bosom but exults; no hand but bears

A garland, or a trophy: And shall Perseus

Vengeance!

PERSEUS.

PERICLES.

[Shouts within.

Hear how with shouts they rend the skies!

PERSEUS.

Give me my vengeance!

PERICLES.

Forty thousand men,

In polish'd armour, shine against the sun.

PERSEUS.

Dare but another word, and not of vengeance,
And I will use thee, as I wou'd-my brother.

Shalt thou dare give encouragement to Perseus?
Unfold thy purpose; I'll outshoot the mark.

Where are you going?

PERICLES.

PERSEUS.

To the mock encounter.

PERICLES.

What more like mock encounter than the true?

PERSEUS.

Enough-He's dead! 'Twas accident; 'twas error: No matter what. Ten thousand share the blame.

PERICLES.

Hold, Sir! I had forgot: On this occasion,
The troops are search'd; and foils alone are worn,
Instead of swords.

PERSEUS.

An osier were enough.

Who pains my heart, plants thunder in

But should this fail

PERICLES.

PERSEUS.

Impossible!

PERICLES.

my

hand.

But, should it,

The banquet follows.

PERSEUS.

Poison in his wine,

I thank the gods! my spirits are reviv'd!
I draw immortal vigour from that bowl!

PERICLES.

Nay, should both fail, the field and banquet too,
All fails not; fairer hopes to fair succeed:
For know, my lord, the king receiv'd with joy
The marriage-scheme, and sent for Dymas' daughter.