From hostile conflict, as from brothers' play,
He blush'd not to invite me to his banquet.
I went not; and in that was I to blame?
Think you, there nothing had been found but peace,
From whence soon after sally'd armed men?
I nothing had to fear from swords,
When from their foils I scarce escap'd with life?
Or poison might his valour suit as well:-
This pass'd, as suits his wisdom, Macedonians!
Who volts o'er elder brothers to a throne,
With an arm'd rout he came to visit me.
Did I refuse to go, a bidden guest?
And should I welcome him, a threat'ning foe?
Resenting my refusal; boiling for revenge!
You now had mourn'd my death, not heard my cause.
Dares he deny he brought an armed throng?
Call those I name; who dare this deed, dare all;
Yet will not dare deny, that this is true.
My death alone can yield a stronger proof;
Will no less proof than that content a father?
Perseus, you see, has art, as well as fire;
Nor have the wars worn Athens from his tongue.
Let him, who seeks to bathe in brother's blood,
Not find well-pleas'd the fountain whence it flow'd:
Let him, who shudders at a brother's knife,
Find refuge in the bosom of a father:
For where else can I fly? whom else implore?
I have no Romans, with their eagles wings,
To shelter me; Demetrius borrows those,
To mount full rebel-high: I have their hatred;
And, thanks to heav'n! deserve it: Good Demetrius
Can see your towns and kingdoms torn away
By these protectors; and ne'er lose his temper.
My weakness! I confess, it makes me rave;
It makes me weep-and my tears rarely flow.
Was ever stronger proof of filial love?
Vain are Rome's hopes, while you and I survive:
But should the sword take me, and age my father,
(Heav'n grant they leave him to the stroke of age!)
The kingdom, and the king, are both their own;
A duteous loyal king, a sceptred slave,
A willing Macedonian slave to Rome.
First let an earthquake swallow Macedonia.
How, at such news, would Hannibal rejoice ?
How the great shade of Alexander smile?
The thought quite choaks me up: I can no more.
No, Sir-Why have I spoke at all?
"Twas needless: Philip justifies my charge; Philip's the single witness which I call,
To prove Demetrius guilty.
What mean I, Sir! what mean I!-To run mad;
For who, unshaken both in heart and brain,
This morning they proclaim'd him Philip's king:
This morning they forgave you for his sake.
O pardon, pardon !-I could strike him dead.
Not more truth; that cannot be !
And that it cannot, one proof can't escape you;
For what but truth could make me, Sir, so bold?
Rome puts forth all her strength to crown her minion.
Demetrius' vices, thriving of themselves,
Her fulsome flatt'ries dung to ranker growth.
Demetrius is the burden of her song;
Each river, hill, and dale, has learnt his name;
While elder Perseus in a whisper dies.
Demetrius treats; Demetrius gives us peace;
Demetrius is our god, and would be so.
My sight is short: Look on him you that can:
What sage experience sits upon his brow,
What awful marks of wisdom, who vouchsafes
To patronize a Father, and a King?
Such patronage is treason.
Nor let the ties of blood bind up the hands
Of justice; Nature's ties are broke already:
For, who contend before you?--Your two sons?---
No; read aright; 'tis Macedon, and Rome.
A well-mask'd foreigner, and your-only son.
Guard of your life, and-exile of your love.
Now, bear me to my dungeon: What so fit
As darkness, chains, and death, for such a traitor?
My lord, he cannot speak; accept his tears
His tears are false as they
Now, with fine phrase, and foppery of tongue,
More graceful action, and a smoother tone,
That orator of fable, and fair face,
Will steal on your brib'd hearts, and, as you listen,
Plain truth, and I, plain Perseus, are forgot.
My Father! King! and Judge! thrice awful power! Your Son, your Subject, and your Prisoner, hear;
Thrice humble state! If I have grace of speech,
(Which gives, it seems, offence) be that no crime
Which oft has serv'd my country, and my king:
Nor in my brother let it pass for virtue,
That, as he is, ungracious he would seem:
For, oh! he wants not art, tho' grace may fail him:
The wonted aids of those that are accus'd,
Has my accuser seiz'd. He shed false tears,
That my true sorrows might suspected flow:
He seeks my life, and calls me Murderer;
And vows no refuge can he find on earth,
That I may want it in a father's arms;
Those arms, to which e'en strangers fly for safety.
He charges me with treason:
If I'm a traitor, if I league with Rome,
Why did his zeal forbear me till this hour?
Was treason then no crime, till (as he feigns)
I sought his life? Dares Perseus hold, so much,
His father's welfare cheaper than his own?
Less cause have I, a brother, to complain.
He says, I wade for empire through his blood:
He says, I place my confidence in Rome:
Why murder him, if Rome will crown my brow?
Will then a sceptre, dipt in brother's blood,
Conciliate love, and make my reign secure?
False are both charges; and he proves them false,
By placing them together.
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