_Megara:_ Unjust is fortune, rarely does she spare 325 The bravest souls. No one with safety long Can brave so frequent perils; he who oft Has shunned misfortune meets at last his fate. But see, with threatening looks fierce Lycus comes, His hateful soul in hateful bearing shown, 330 And bears the stolen scepter in his hand. [_Enter_ Lycus.] _Lycus:_ The rich domain of this proud town of Thebes, With all the fertile soil which Phocis bounds Within its winding borders, all the land Ismenus waters; all Cithaeron sees 335 From his high top; the narrow Isthmus, too, Two seas asunder cleaving: all I own, Not by prerogative of long descent, A worthless heir. No noble ancestors, Nor family adorned with lofty names Have I; but splendid valor. He who boasts 340 His noble ancestry exalts a thing Which is not his to boast. But power usurped Is held with anxious hands; the sword alone Can guard it. All thou hold'st against the will Of citizens the sword must hold for thee. No kingdom built upon a foreign soil 345 Is safe for long. One thing alone I see Which can our power establish--Megara, By ties of royal marriage bound to me. From her illustrious line my humble blood Shall a richer hue derive. Nor do I think That she will scorn me and refuse my suit. But should she with a blind and stubborn soul 350 Refuse my proffered hand, my mind is fixed To give to utter ruin all the house Of Hercules. Will such a deed arouse A storm of scandal and the people's hate? The art of ruling chiefly lies in this: The power to bear the people's hate unmoved. Let me make trial then. Occasion smiles, For she herself, in mourning vestments clad, 355 Stands by the altars of her guardian gods, While near at hand Alcides' father waits. _Megara_ [_seeing_ Lycus, _aside_]: What new outrage does yonder wretch prepare, The pestilent destroyer of our race? _Lycus:_ O thou, who bear'st a name illustrious 360 From royal stock, with patient ear awhile Receive my words. If everlasting hate The hearts of men should feel, if fury dire, Once in the heart conceived, should never cease; If prosperous men must ever fight to rule, And those who fail obey because they must: Then never-ending wars would nothing leave, 365 And all the fields would be a barren waste; Homes would be burned, and 'neath their ashes deep All nations of the earth would be o'erwhelmed. The victor's profit is in peace restored, But for the vanquished 'tis their direful need. Come, share my throne; let us unite our wills. 370 And, as my pledge of faith, receive my hand. But why dost thou in scornful silence wait?