The rage of the worst war—the war of brethren.

Sar. Why, child, I loathe all war, and warriors;

I live in peace and pleasure: what can man530

Do more?

Myr.‍Alas! my Lord, with common men

There needs too oft the show of war to keep

The substance of sweet peace; and, for a king,

'Tis sometimes better to be feared than loved.

Sar. And I have never sought but for the last.

Myr. And now art neither.