Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/94

76 Then what will't be when thou the scepter wield'st? Oh, put aside thy spirit's swelling rage, And give thyself once more to piety. Polynices: That I may wander still a fugitive? That ever, banished from my native land, Upon a stranger's bounty I may live? What, think'st thou, could I suffer more than this, If I had broken faith or falsely sworn? Shall I be punished for another's sin, While he enjoys the profits of his crime? Thou bid'st me go; and gladly would I yield Unto my mother's will. But whither, then, Shall I depart? "Let my proud brother dwell Within my royal halls, and some poor hut Be my abode": let such a boon be given Unto the exile; give him in exchange A hovel for a throne. And shall I, then, A pensioner upon my wealthy bride, Be forced to yield to her unbending will, And to her father's domineering ways Submit like any slave? 'Tis hard, indeed, To fall from royalty to servitude. Jocasta: If thou art eager for a royal throne, And if, without the scepter in thy hand, Thou canst not live, whatever land thou wilt Will offer many kingdoms to thy hand. On this side Tmolus lifts his ridgy heights, Well known to Bacchus, where wide-spreading plains Stretch out upon the grain-producing earth; And where Pactolus' all-enriching stream O'erflows the country with its sands of gold. And there Maeander through the joyful fields Directs his wandering waves; swift Hermus, too, Cleaves meadows rich. And there is Gargara, Beloved of Ceres, and the fertile plains Which Xanthus waters, fed by Ida's snows. And here, where ends the long Ionian sea, Across the narrows from Abydos stands