Then there's a second bowl of poison for him.
Yet more: This ev'ning those ambassadors,
Which Philip sent to Rome, beneath the name
Of public business, but, in truth, to learn
Your brother's conduct, are expected home.
Those whom I swore, before they parted hence,
In dreadful sacraments of wine and blood,
To bring back such reports, as shou'd destroy him:—
And what if, to complete our secret plan,
We feign a letter to his friend the consul,
To strengthen our ambassadors' report?
That care, my lord, be mine: I know a knave,
Grown fat on forgery; he'll counterfeit
Old Quintius' hand and seal, by former letters
Sent to the king; which you can gain with ease.
Observe this morning, at their interview,
The Romans, in effect, inform'd the king,
That Thrace was theirs, and order'd him restore
The princess. This will give much air of truth,
If our forg❜d letters say the Romans crown
Demetrius king of Thrace, and promise more.
My lord, it shall be done.
All cannot fail. [Trumpets.
The trumpets sound; the troops are mounted.
Sweet vengeance calls: Nor ever call'd a god
Such swift obedience : Like the rapid wheel,
I kindle in the course; I'm there already;
Snatch the bright weapon; bound into my seat ;
Strike; triumph; see him gasping on the ground,
And life, love, empire, springing from his wound.
When godlike ends, by means unjust, succeed,
The great result adorns the daring deed.
Virtue's a shackle under fair disguise,
To fetter fools, while we bear off the prize.
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.
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 day-light 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?
This moment; and might cheat
The cunning eye of jealousy itself.
'Tis well: Art thou appris'd of what hath past
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.
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.
That's artful. What ensu'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 pass'd: which spies, by chance detected, (Observe me, were ill us'd.
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.-
You took occasion, from these few in arms,
To charge a murderous assault on all.
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;
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