Complete Works of Edward Young, page 82
Have I left earth, and mounted to the stars!
Pers. There Dymas’ daughter shone above the rest,
Illustrious in thy sight.
Dem. Thy taunt how false!
I no less press your interest than my own.
Think you’t is possible her heart, so long
Inclined to me, the price of all my vows,
Purchased by tears and groans, and paid me down
In tenderest returns of love divine,
Can in one day be yours? Impossible!
Pers. If I’m deceived, I’m pleased with the deceit.
How my heart dances in the golden dream!
In pity do not wake me till to-morrow.
Dem. Then thou’It wake distracted. Trust me, brother!
She gives her hand alone.
Pers. Nor need I more;
That hand’s enough that brings a sceptre in it.
I scorn a prince who weds with meaner views.
Her duty’s mine; and I conceive small pain
From your sweet error, that her love is yours.
I’m pleased such cordial thoughts of your own merit
Support you in distress.
Dem. Inhuman Perseus!
If pity dwells within the heart of man,
If due that pity to the last distress,
Pity a lover exquisitely pain’d,
A lover exquisitely pain’d by you.
O, in the name of all the gods, relent!
Give me my princess! give her to my throes!
Amidst a thousand you may choose a love;
The spacious earth contains but one for me.
But, O! I rave: art thou not he, the man
Who drinks my groans like music at his ear,
And would, as wine, as nectar, drink my blood?
Are all my hopes of mercy lodged in thee?
O rigid gods! and shall I then fall down,
Embrace thy feet, and bathe them with my tears?
Yes, I will drown thee with my tears, my blood,
So thou afford a human ear to pangs,
A brother’s pangs, a brother’s broken heart.
Pers. Pardon, Demetrius, but the princess calls,
And I am bound to go.
Dem. O stay. (Laying hold of him.)
Pers. You tremble.
Dem. “The princess calls, and you are bound to go?”
Pers. E’en so.
Dem. What princess?
Pers. Mine.
Dem. ‘T is false.
Pers. Unhand me.
Dem. What! see, talk, touch, nay, taste her! like a bee,
Draw honey from her wounded lip, while I
Am stung to death!
Pers. The triumph once was yours.
Dem. Rip up my breast, or you shall never stir.
My heart may visit her! O, take it with you!
Have I not seen her, where she has not been?
Have I not clasp’d her shadow, trod her steps?
Transported trod, as if they led to heaven!
Each mom my life I lighted at her eye,
And, every evening, at its close expired. (Bursts into tears.)
Pers. Fie! thou ‘rt a Roman; can a Roman weep?
Sure Alexander’s helmet can sustain
Far heavier strokes than these. For shame, Demetrius!
E’en snatch up the next Sabine in thy way;
‘T will do as well. (Going.)
Dem. By heaven, you shall not stir.
Long as I live, I stand a world between you,
And keep you distant as the poles asunder.
Who takes my love, in mercy takes my life:
Thy bloody pass cleave through thy brother’s breast.
I beg, I challenge, I provoke my death.
(His hand upon his sword.)
Enter KING and DYMAS.
Pers. You will not murder me?
Dem. Yes, you and all.
King. How like a tiger foaming o’er his prey!
Pers. Now, sir, believe your eye, believe your ear,
And still believe me perjured, as this morning.
King. Heaven’s wrath’s exhausted, there’s no more to fear:
My darling son found criminal in all!
Dem. That villain there to blast me! Yes, I’ll speak;
For what have I to fear, who feel the worst? ‘
‘T is time the truth were known. That villain, sir,
Has cleft my heart, and laughs to see it bleed:
But his confession shall redeem my fame,
And re-enthrone me in my princess’ smile;
Or I’ll return that false embrace he gave me,
And stab him in your sight.
King. Hold, insolent!
Where’s your respect to me!
Dem. O royal sir!
That has undone me. Through respect I gave
A feign’d consent, which his black artifice
Has turn’d to my destruction. I refused
That slave’s, that cursed slave’s, that statesman’s daughter;
And he pretends she was refused by me.
Hence, hence, this desolation! Nought I fear,
Though Nature groan her last. And shall he, then,
Escape and triumph?
King. Guards, there! seize the prince!
The man you menace you shall learn to fear. (He is seized.)
Dym. Hold, sir! not this for me! It is your son.
What is my life, though pour’d upon your feet?
King. Is this a son?
Dem. No, sir; my crime’s too great,
Which dares to vindicate a father’s honour,
To catch the glories of a falling crown,
And save it from pollution. But I’ve done.
I die, unless my princess is restored; (Pointing to Dymas.)
And if I die, by heaven, and earth, and hell!
His sordid blood shall mingle with the dust;
And see if thence’t will mount into the throne.
O sir, think of it! I’ll expect my fate. (Exit Demetrius.)
King. And thou shalt have it.
Dym. How, my lord! in tears!
King. As if the gods came down in evidence!
How many sudden rays of proof concur
To my conviction! Was ever equal boldness!
But’t is no wonder from a brother-king;
(Produces the forged letter.)
This king of Thrace to-morrow he’ll be king
Of Macedon. He therefore dies to-night.
Pers. (Aside to Dymas.) And yet I doubt it; for I know his fondness.
Thou practise well the lesson I have taught thee,
While I pat on a solemn face of woe,
Afflicted for a brother’s early fall.
Heaven knows with what regret! But, sir, your safety
(Presenting the mandate for Demetrius’ death.)
King. What givest thou here?
Dym. Your passport to renown.
You sign your apotheosis in that.
What scales the skies, but zeal for public good?
Pers. How godlike mercy!
Dym. Mercy to mankind,
By treason awed.
King. (To Perseus.) Must, then, thy brother bleed?
(Dymas seeming at a loss, Perseus whispers him, and gives a letter.)
Dym. (Looking on the letter.) No, sir; the king of Thrace.
King. Why, that is true:
Yet who, if not a father, should forgive?
Dym. Who, sir, if not a Philip, should be just?
King. (To Dymas.) Is’t not my son?
Dym. If not, far less his guilt.
King. (To Perseus.) Is’t not my other Perseus?
Pers. Sir, I thank you,
That seeks your crown and life.
King. And life?
Dym. No, sir;
He’ll only take your crown; you still may live.
King. Heaven blast thee for that thought!
Pers. Why shakes my father?
King. It stabs, it gnaws, it harrows up my soul.
Is he not young? Was he not much indulged,
Gall’d by his brother, doubted by his father,
Tempted by Rome? a nation to a boy!
Dym. O, a mere infant that deposes kings.
King. No; once he saved my crown.
Dym. And now would wear it.
King. How my head swims!
Pers. Nor strange; the task is hard.
Dym. Yet scarce for him. Brutus was but a Roman;
(Speaking as if he would not have the king hear.)
Yet like a Philip dared, and is immortal.
King. I hear thee, Dymas; give me, then, the mandate.
(Going to sign, he stops short.)
Dym. No wonder if his mother thus had paused.
Pers. (Aside.) Rank cankers on thy tongue! Why mention her?
King. O gods! I Bee her now: what am I doing!
(Throws away the style.)
I see her dying eye let fall a tear
In favour of Demetrius. Shall I stab
Her lovely image stamp’d on every feature!
Dym. His soul escaped it, sir.
King. Thou liest; begone.
(Perseus and Dymas in great confusion: Perseus whispers Dymas.)
Dym. (Aside, to Perseus.) True; that, or nought, will touch him.
If, sir, your mercy (To the king.)
Pers. O speak on of mercy!
Mercy, the darling attribute of heaven.
Dym. If you should spare him
King. What if I should spare him?
Dym. I dare not say: your wrath again might rise.
King. Yes, if thou ‘rt silent: what if I should spare him?
Dym. Why, if you should, proud Home would thank you for it.
King. Rome! Her applause more shocks me than his death.
O thou, death’s orator! dread advocate
For bowelless severity! assist
My trembling hand, as thou hast steel’d my heart;
And if it is guilt in me, share the guilt.
He’s dead. (Signs.) And if I blot it with one tear,
Perseus, though less affected, will forgive me.
Pers. Forgive! Sir, I applaud, and wish my sorrow
Was mild enough to weep.
(The king, going out, meets Demetrius in mourning, introduced by Antigonus. The King starts back, and drops on Dymas. Recovering, speaks.)
King. This, Fate, is thy tenth wave, and quite o’erwhelms me!
It less had shock’d me, had I met his ghost.
This is a plot to sentence me to death.
What hast thou done, my mortal foe; thrown bars
(To Antigonus.)
Athwart my glory? But thy scheme shall fail.
As rushing torrents sweep the’ obstructed mound,
So Philip meets this mountain in his way,
Yet keeps his purpose still.
(Perseus and Pericles whisper aside.)
Peri. I can’t but fear it.
Pers. I grant the danger great; yet don’t despair:
Jove is against thee, Perseus on thy side.
A nt. The prince, dread sir, low on his bended knee
King. This way, Antigonus. Dost mark his bloom,
Grace in his aspect, grandeur in his mien?
Ant. I do.
King. ‘T is false; take a king’s word: he’s dead.
That darling of my soul would stab me sleeping.
How darest thou start? Art thou the traitor’s father
If thou art pale, what is enough for me?
How his grave yawns: O that it was my own!
Ant. Mourn not the guilty.
King. No; he’s innocent:
Death pays his debt to justice; and, that done,
I grant him still my son: as such I love him;
Yes, and will clasp him to my breast, while yet
His clay is warm, nor moulders at my touch.
Pers. (Aside.) A curse on that embrace!
Dym. Nay, worse; he weeps.
King. Poor boy, be not deceived by my compassion:
My tears are cruel, and I groan thy death.
Dem. And am I, then, to die? If death’s decreed,
Stab me yourself, nor give me to the knife
Of midnight ruffians, that have forged my crimes.
For you I beg, for you I pour my tears:
You are deceived, dishonour’d; I am only slain.
O! father
King. Father? There’s no father here.
Forbear to wound me with that tender name,
Nor raise all nature up in arms against me.
Dem. My father! guardian! friend! nay, deity!
What less than gods give being, life, and death!
My dying mother
King. Hold thy peace, I charge thee.
Dem. Pressing your hand, and bathing it with tears,
Bequeath’d your tenderness for her to me;
And, low on earth, my legacy I claim,
Clasping your knee, though banish’d from your breast.
King. My knees? Would that were all; he grasps my heart.
Perseus, canst thou stand by and see me ruin’d?
(Reaching his hand to Perseus.)
Pers. Loose, loose thy hold. It is my father, too.
King. Yes, Macedon, and thine; and I’ll preserve thee.
Dem. Who once before preserved it from the Thracian?
And who at Thrasymene turn’d the lifted bolt
From Philip’s hoary brow?
King. I’ll hear no more.
O Perseus, Dymas, Pericles! assist me,
Unbind me, disenchant me! break this charm
Of Nature, that accomplice with my foes!
Bend me, O rend me from the friend of Rome!
Pers. Nay, then, howe’er reluctant, aid I must.
The friend of Rome? That severs you for ever,
Though most incorporate and strongly knit;
As lightning rends the knotted oak asunder.
Dem. In spite of lightning, I renew the tie;
And stubborn is the grasp of dying men.
Who’s he that shall divide me from myself?
(Demetrius is forced from the king’s knees, on which, starting up, he flings his arms round his father.)
Still of a piece with him from whom I grew,
I’ll bleed on my asylum, dart my soul
In this embrace, and thus my treason crown.
King. Who love yourselves, or Macedon, or me,
From the cursed eagle’s talons wrench my crown,
And this barb’d arrow from my breast. ‘T is done;
(Forced asunder.)
And the blood gushes after it. I faint.
Dym. Support the king.
Pers. While treason licks the dust.
(Pointing at Demetrius, fallen in the struggle.)
Dym. A field well fought.
Pers. And justice has prevail’d.
King. O that the traitor could conceal the son!
Farewell, once best beloved! still most deplored!
He, he who dooms thee, bleeds upon thy tomb.
(Exit King.)
Dem. Prostrate on thee, my mother earth, be thou
Kinder than brother or than father; open
And save me in thy bosom from my friends;
Friends sworn to wash their hands in guiltless tears,
And quench infernal thirst in kindred blood;
As if relation sever’d human hearts,
Or that Destruction was the child of Love.
Pers. Farewell, young traitor. If they ask below,
Who sent thee beardless down; say, “honest Perseus;”
Whom reason sways, not instinct; who can strike
At horrid parricide and flagrant treason,
Though through a bosom dearer than his own.
Think’st thou my tender heart can hate a brother!
The gods and Perseus war with nought but guilt.
But I must go. What, sir, your last commands
To your Erixene? She chides my stay. (Exit Perseus.)
Dem. Without the token of a brother’s love,
He could not part; my death was not enough:
I came for mercy, and I find it here:
And death is mercy, since my love is lost
Alas! my father, too; my heart aches for him:
And Perseus, fain would I forgive e’en thee;
But Philip’s sufferings cry too loud against it;
Blind author and sure mourner of my death!
Father most dear! what pangs hast thou to come!
Like that poor wretch is thy unhappy doom,
Who, while in sleep his fever’d fancy glows,
Draws his keen sword, and sheathes it in his foes;
But, waking, starts upright in wild surprise
To feel warm blood glide round him as he lies;
To see his reeking hands in crimson dyed,
And a pale corse extended by his side:
He views with horror what mad dreams have done,
And sinks, heart-broken, on a murder’d son.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
KING, POSTHUMIUS, meeting.
Post. WE, in behalf of our allies, O king,
Call’d on thee yesterday, to clear thy glory;
Nor wonder now that Philip is unjust
To strangers, who has murder’d his own son.
King. ‘T is false.
Post. No thanks to Philip that he fled.
King. A traitor is no son.
Post. Heaven’s vengeance on me,
If he refused not yesterday thy crown,
Though life and love both bribed him to comply!
King. See there. (Gives the letter.)
Post. ‘T is not the consul’s hand or seal.
King. You ‘re his accomplices.
Post. We ‘re his avengers. ‘T is war.
King. Eternal war.
Post. Next time we meet
King. Is in the Capitol. Haste, fly my kingdom.
Post. No longer thine.
King. Yes, and proud Rome a province.
(Exit Posthumius, &c.)
They brave, they make, they tyrannize o’er kings.
The name of king the prostrate world adored
Ere Romulus had call’d his thieves together.
But let me pause: Not Quintius’ hand or seal?
Doubt and impatience, like thick smoke and Are,
Cloud and torment my reason.
Ant. Sir, recall
And re-examine those you sent to Rome:
You took their evidence in haste and anger.
Torture, if they refuse, will tell the truth.
King. Go, stop the nuptials, till you hear from me.
(Exit King and Antigonus.)
Enter ERIXENE and DELIA, meeting.
Del. Madam, the prince, who fled from threaten’d death,
