Chapter 8Scene 4

The hall in the Palace. Timocles, Phayllus. TIMOCLES O, all the sweetness and the glory gathered Into one smiling life, the other’s left Barren, unbearable, bleak, desolate, A hell of silence and of emptiness Impossible for mortal souls to imagine, Much less to suffer. My mother does this wrong to me! Why should not we, kind brothers all our lives, — O, how we loved each other there in Egypt! — Divide this prize? Let his be Syria’s crown, — Oh, let him take it! I have Rodogune. PHAYLLUS He will consent? TIMOCLES Oh, yes, and with a smile. He is all loftiness and warlike thoughts. My high Antiochus! how could I dream Of taking from him what he’ld wear so well? Let me have love and joy and Rodogune. The sunlight is enough for me. PHAYLLUS It may be, Yet not enough for both. Look! there he comes Carrying himself as if he were the sun Brilliant alone in heaven. Oh, that to darken! Antiochus enters.

Rodogune TIMOCLES Brother, it is the kind gods send you here. ANTIOCHUS Dear Timocles, we meet not all the day. It was not so in Egypt. Tell me now, What were you doing all these busy hours? How many laughing girls of this fair land Have you lured on to love you? TIMOCLES Have you not heard? ANTIOCHUS What, Timocles? TIMOCLES Our mother gives the crown And with the crown apportions Rodogune. ANTIOCHUS Our royal mother? Are they hers to give? I do not marry by another’s will. TIMOCLES O brother, no; our hearts at least are ours. You have not marked, I think, Antiochus, This pale sweet Parthian Rodogune? ANTIOCHUS (smiling) No, brother? I have not marked, you say? TIMOCLES You are so blind To woman’s beauty. You only woo great deeds And arms imperial. It is well for me You rather chose to wed the grandiose earth.

Act II, Scene 4 I am ashamed to tell you, dear Antiochus, I grudged the noble crown that soon will rest So gloriously upon you. Take it, brother, But leave me my dim goddess Rodogune. ANTIOCHUS Thy goddess! thine! TIMOCLES It is not possible That you too love her! ANTIOCHUS What is it to thee whom or what I love? Say that I love her not? TIMOCLES Then is my offer Just, brotherly, not like this causeless wrath. ANTIOCHUS Thy wondrous offer! Of two things that are mine To fling me one with “There! I want it not, I’ll take the other”! TIMOCLES (in a suffocated voice) Has she made thee king? ANTIOCHUS I need no human voice to make me anything Who am king by birth and nature. Who else should reign In Syria? Thoughtst thou thy light and shallow head Was meant to wear a crown? TIMOCLES In Egypt you were not like this, Antiochus.

Rodogune ANTIOCHUS See not the Parthian even in dreams at night! Remember not her name! TIMOCLES She is my mother’s slave: I’ll ask for her and have her. ANTIOCHUS Thou shalt have My sword across thy heart-strings first. She is The kingdom’s prize and with the kingdom mine. TIMOCLES My dream, my goddess with those wondrous eyes! My sweet veiled star cloistered in her own charm! I will not yield her to thee, nor the crown, Not wert thou twenty times my brother. PHAYLLUS Capital! Delightful! O my fortune! my kind fortune! TIMOCLES Thou lov’st her not who dar’st to think of her As if she were a prize for any arms, Thy slave, thy chattel. ANTIOCHUS Speak not another word. PHAYLLUS More! more! My star, thou risest o’er this storm. ANTIOCHUS I pardon thee, my brother Timocles; Thy light passions are thy excuse. Henceforth

Act II, Scene 4 Offend not. For the Parthian, she is mine And I would keep her though a god desired. Exalt not thy presumptuous eyes henceforth Higher than are her sandals. He goes out. PHAYLLUS This is your brother! Shall he not have the crown? TIMOCLES Nor her, nor Syria. Rodogune and Eunice enter passing through the hall. Timocles rushes to her. My Rodogune, my star! Thou knowest the trade Which others seek to make of thee. Resist it, Prevent the insult of this cold award! Say that thou lov’st me. RODOGUNE Prince, I pity thee, But cannot love. She passes out. EUNICE My cousin Timocles, All flowers are not for your plucking. Roses Enough that crave to satisfy your want, Are grown in Syria; take them. Here be wise; Touch not my Parthian blossom. She passes out. TIMOCLES How am I smitten as with a thunderbolt!

Rodogune PHAYLLUS Will you be dashed by this? They make her think Antiochus will reign in Syria. TIMOCLES No, She loves him. PHAYLLUS Is love so quickly born? Oh, then, It will as quickly die. Eunice works here To thwart you; she is for Antiochus. TIMOCLES All, all are for Antiochus, the crown, And Syria and men’s homage, women’s hearts And life and sweetness and my love. PHAYLLUS Young prince, Be more a man. Besiege the girl with gifts And graces; woo her like a queen or force her Like what she is, a slave. Be strong, be sudden, Forestalling this proud brother. TIMOCLES I would not wrong her pure and shrouded soul Though all the gods in heaven should give me leave. PHAYLLUS The graceful, handsome fool! Then from your mother Demand her as a gift. TIMOCLES (going) My soul once more Is hunted by the tempest.