But whither am I strayed? I need not raise Trophies to thee from other mens dispraise; Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built; Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign, Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.1
On Mr. John Fletchers Works.
Note 1. Poets are sultans, if they had their will; For every author would his brother kill. Orrery: Prologues (according to Johnson).
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne. Alexander Pope: Prologue to the Satires, line 197. [back]