But sure the crime. Suppose that all the gods
Have heard thy prayers; suppose the citizens,
In panic fear, have turned their backs and fled;
The soldiers' bloody corpses hide the plain:635
Though in such victory thou shouldst exalt
And bear thy murdered brother's spoils away,
Thy victory is but a broken thing.
What sort of warfare, think'st thou, that would be,
In which the victor wins by curséd crime,
And glories in it? Nay, thy brother's self,