Mark, Sir, how Perseus, unawares, absolves me
From guilt in all, by loading all with guilt.
Did I design him poison at my feast?
Why then did I provoke him in the field?
That, as he did, he might refuse to come?
When angry he refus'd, I should have sooth'd
His rous'd resentment, and deferr'd the blow;
Not destin'd him that moment to my sword,
Which I before instructed him to shun.
Thro' fear of death, did he decline my banquet?
Could I expect admittance then at his ?
These numerous pleas at variance, overthrow
Each other, and are advocates for me.
No, Sir; Posthumius is his advocate.
Art thou afraid that I should hear him out?
Quit then this picture, this well-painted fear,
And come to that, which touches him indeed.
Why is Demetrius not despis'd of all,
His second in endowments, as in birth?
How dare I draw the thoughts of Macedon?
How dare I gain esteem with foreign powers?
Esteem, when gain'd, how dare I to preserve?
These are his secret thoughts; these burn within;
These sting up accusations in his soul;
Turn friendly visits to foul fraud, and murder;
And pour in poison to the bowl of love.
Merit is Treason in a younger brother.
But clear your conduct with regard to Rome.
Alas! dread Sir, I grieve to find set down,
Among my crimes, what ought to be my praise.
That I went hostage, or ambassador,
Was Philip's high command, not my request:
Indeed, when there, in both those characters,
I bore in mind to whom I owe my birth:
Rome's favour follow'd. If it is a crime
To be regarded, spare a crime you caus'd;
Caus'd by your orders, and examples too.
True, I'm Rome's friend, while Rome is your ally:
When not, this hostage, this ambassador,
So dear, stands forth the fiercest of her foes;
At your command, flies swift on wings of fire,
The native thunder of a father's arm.
There spoke, at once, the Hero, and the Son.
To close-To thee, I grant, some thanks are due;
Not for thy kindness, but malignity:
Thy character's my friend, though thou my foe:
For, say, whose temper promises most guilt?
Perseus, importunate, demands my death:
I do not ask for his: Ah! no; I feel
Too pow'rful nature pleading for him here:
But were there no fraternal tie to bind me,
A son of Philip must be dear to me.
If you, my father, had been angry with me,
An elder brother, a less aweful parent,
He should asswage you, he should intercede,
Soften my failings, and indulge my youth:
But my asylum drops its character;
I find not there my rescue, but my ruin.
But let thy brother finish his defence.
O Perseus! how I tremble as I speak!
Where is a brother's voice; a brother's eye?
Where is the melting of a brother's heart?
Where is our aweful father's dread command?
Where a dear, dying mother's last request?
Forgot, scorn'd, hated, trodden under foot!
Thy heart, how dead to ev'ry call of nature!
Unson'd! unbrother'd! nay, unhumaniz'd!
Far from affection, as thou'rt near in blood!
Oh! Perseus, Perseus !-But my heart's too full.
[Falls on Antigonus.
See, from his hoary brow, he wipes the dew,
Which agony wrings from him.
These boys at strife, like Etna's struggling flames, Convulsions cause and make a mountain shake; Shake Philip's firmness, and convulse his heart; And, with a fiery flood of civil war,
Threaten to deluge my divided land.
I've heard them both; by neither am convinc'd:
And yet Demetrius' words went through my heart.-
A double crime, Demetrius, is your charge;
Fondness for Rome, and hatred to your brother.
If you can clear your innocence in one,
'Twill give us cause to think you wrong'd in both.
How shall I clear it, Sir;
Detests the Romans: If you wed his daughter,
Rome's foe becomes the guardian of your faith.
I told you, Sir, when I return'd from Rome
How-Dost thou want an absolute command?
Your Brother, Father, Country, all exact it.
ANTIGONUS. [Aside to Demetrius.]
See yonder guards at hand, if you refuse.
Nay, more; a father, so distress'd, demands
A son's compassion, to becalm his heart.
Oh! Sir, comply.
DEMETRIUS. [Aside to Antigonus.]
There! there! indeed, you touch me!
Besides, if I'm confin'd, and Perseus free,
I never, never, shall behold her more.
Pardon, ye gods! an artifice forc'd on me.
Dread Sir, your son complies.
Strike off his chains. Nay, Perseus too is free:
They wear no bonds, but those of duty, now.
Dymas, go thank the prince: He weds your daughter;
And highest honours pay your high desert.
[Exeunt all but Dymas and Demetrius.
O, Sir, without presumption, may I dare
To lift my ravis'd thought?
I paid a duty to my father's will:
And set you an example, where 'tis due,
Of not with-holding yours.
Then, Dymas, I request thee,
Go seek the king, and save me from a marriage
My brother has contriv'd, in artful malice,
To make me lose my Father, or my Love.
|