THE Tragic Muse, revolving many a page Of time's long records drawn from every age, Forms not her plans on low or trivial deeds, But marks the striking ! When some Hero bleeds To save his country, then her powers inspire, Such drops new lustre to bright eyes impart ; Such drops adorn the noblest Hero's cheek, And paint his worth, in strokes that more than speak ; Not he who cannot weep, but he who can, Shows the great soul, and proves himself a Man. Yet do not idly grieve at others pain, Nor let the tears of nature fall in vain : [grown, Watch the close crimes from whence their ills have And from their frailties learn to mend your own. DRAMATIS PERSONE. MEN. PHILIP, King of Macedon. PERSEUS, his elder son. DEMETRIUS, his younger son. PERICLES, the friend of Perseus. POSTHUMIUS, Roman Ambassadors. WOMEN. ERIXINE, the Thracian Princess. Her Attendant. Enter CURTIUS and POSTHUMIUS. Curtius. THERE'S something of magnificence about us I have not seen at Rome. But you can tell me. [Gazes round. Posthumius. True: Hither sent on former embassies, I know this splendid court of Macedon, And haughty Philip, well. Curtius. His pride presumes To treat us here like subjects, more than Romans, Bear peace and war, and throw him which we please, Posthumius. This Philip only, since Rome's glory rose, Preserves its grandeur to the name of king; Like a bold star, that shews its fires by day. It pains me They both are bright; but one Benignly bright, as stars to mariners; And one a comet with malignant blaze, Denouncing ruin. Posthumius. Curtius. You mean Perseus. True, The younger son Demetrius, you well know, When Philip fear'd the thunder of our arms. Curtius. A second brand of enmity? Posthumius. The fair Erixine. Curtius. Her smother'd story. Posthumius. Glows there not O, yes; I've partly heard Smother'd by the king; And wisely too. But thou shalt hear it all. Between the crowns of Macedon and Thrace; The sword by both too much indulg'd in blood. |