PHILANDER

In part I think as have been said before, In part again my mind is otherwise As for dividing of this Realm in twain And lotting out the same in equal parts, To either of my Lords your Graces sons, That think I best for this your Realms behosf, For profit and advancement of your sons, And for your comfort and your honour eke: But so to place them while your life do last, To yield to them your Royal governance, To be above them only in the name Of father, not in kingly state also, I think not good for you, for them, nor us, This kingdom since the bloody civil field Where Morgan slain did yield his conquered part Unto his Cousin's sword in Camberlande Containeth all that whilom did suffice, Three noble sons of your forefather Brutus, So your two sons, it may also suffice, The more the stronger, if they gree in one: The smaller compass that the Realm does hold The easier is the swey thereof to weld, The nearer Justice to the wronged poor, The smaller charge, and yet enough for one. And when the Region is divided so That Brethren be the Lords of either part, Such strength does nature knit between the both. In sundry bodies by conjoined love That not as two, but one of doubled force, Eke is to other as a sure defence, The Nobleness and glory of the one Does sharp the courage of the others mind With virtuous envy to contend for praise, And such and egalnes hath nature made, Between the Brothers of one Father's seed, As and unkindly wrong it seems to be, To throw the other Subject under feet Of him, whose Peer he is by course of kind, And nature that did make this egalnes, Oft so repineth at so great a wrong, That oft she raises up a grudging grief, In younger Brothers at the elders state: Whereby both towns & kingdoms have be rased And famous stocks of Royal blood destroyed: The Brother that should be the Brother's aid And have a wakeful care for his defence, Gapes for his death, & blames the lyngering years That brings not forth his end with faster course And oft impatient of so long delays, With hateful slaughter he presents the fates And keeps a joust reward for Brother's blood, With endless vengeance on his stock for aye: Such mischiefs here are wisely met withal: If equal state may nourish equal love, Where none hath cause to grudge at others good, But now the head to stoop beneath them both, Ne kind, ne reason, ne good order bears, And oft it hath been seen, that where Nature Hath been preverted in disordered wise, When Father's cease to know that they should rule And Children cease to know they should obey, And often our unkindly tendrenes, As Mother of unkindly Stubborns: I speak not this in envy or reproach, As if I grudged the glory of your sons, Whose honour I beseech the Gods to increase: Nor yet as if I thought there did remain, So filthy Cankers in their noble breasts, Whom I esteem (which is their greatest praise, Undoubted children of so good a King. Only I mean to show my certain Rules, Which kind hath grafted within the mind of man That Nature hath her order and her course, Which (being broken) does corrupt the state Of minds and things even in the best of all My Lords your sons may learn to rule of you Your own example in your noble Court Is fittest Guider of their youthful years, If you desire to seek some present Joy By sighed of their well ruling in your life, See them obey, so shall you see them rule, Who so obeyeth not with humbleness Will rule without rage and with insolence Long may they rule I do beseech the Gods, But long may they learn ere they Begin to rule If kind and fates would suffer I would wish Them aged Princes and immortal kings: Wherefore most noble King I well assent, Between your sons y you divide your Realm. And as in kind, so match them in degree But while the Gods prolongue your Royal life Prolongue your reign, for thereto live you here, And therefore have the Gods so long forborn To join you to them selves, that still you might Be Prince and father of our continued ̄ mon weal: They when they see your children ripe to rule Will make them room, & will remove you hence, That yours in right ensuing of your life May rightly honour your mortal name. My Lord, yet ere you now unkindly war, Send to your Brother to demand the cause. Perhaps some traitorous tales have filled his ears w to false reports against your noble grace: Which once disclosed shall end the growing strife That else not stayed with wise foresight in time Shall hazard both your kingdoms & your lives: Send to your father eke, he shall appeal Your kindled minds, and rid you of this fear. Lo here the end of these two youthful kings The father's death, the reign of their two realms Oh most unhappy state of Counsellors That light on so unhappy Lords and times That neither can their good advise be harden, Yet must they bear the blames of ill success But I will to the king their father haste Ere this mischief come to that likely end, That if the mindful wrath of wrekefull Gods Since mighty Ilions fallen not yet appeased With these poor remnant of the Trojans name Have not determinedly unmoved fate Out of this Realm to raze the Brutish Line By good advise, by awe of father's name By force of wiser Lords, this kindled hate May yet be quentched, ere it consume us all. The mighty Jove Preserve your Majesty, Oh noble king. Your son, sir, lives and healthy I him left: But yet (Oh king) this want of lustful health Could not be half so grief-full to your Grace, As these most wretched tidings that I bring. Tyndar, Oh king, came lately from the Court Of Ferrex, to my Lord your younger son, And made report of great prepared store Of war, and says that it is whollic meant Against Porrex for high disdain that he Lives now a King and equal in degree With him, that claimeth to succeed the whole. As by endue title of discedinge right Porrex is now so set on flaming fire, Partly with kindled rage of cruel wrath, Partly with hope to gain a Realm thereby, That he in haste prepareth to invade His Brother's Land, and with unkindly war Threatens the murder of your elder son, Ne could I him persuade that first he should Send to his Brother to demand the cause, Nor yet to you to stay his hateful strife. Wherefore sith there no more I can be harden. I come my self now to inform your Grace: And to beseech you, as you love the lief And safety of your Children and your Realm. Now to employ your wisdom and your force To stay this mischief ere it be to late. Yield not, Oh king, so much to weak despair Your sons yet live, and long I trust, they shall: If fates had taken you from earthly life Before beginning of this ciuyll strife: Perhaps your sons in their unmastered youth, Loose from regard of any living wight, Would run on headlong, with unbridled Raze To their own death and ruin of this Realm. But sith the God that have the care for kings, Of things and times dispose the order so That in your life this kindled flame breaks forth While yet your life, your wisdom & your power, May stay the growing mischief, and repress The fiery blaze of their enkindled heat It seems, and so you ought to deem thereof, That loving Jove hath tempered so the time Of this debate to happen in your days That you yet living may the same appease. And add it to the glory of your latter age And they your sons may learn to live in peace Beware (Oh King) the greatest harm of all, Lest by your wayleful plaints your hastened death Yield larger room unto their growing rage: Preserve your life, the only hope of stay: And if your highness herein list to use Wisdom or force, counsel or knightly aid: Lo we our persons, powers and lives are yours. Use us till Death, Oh king, we are your own.