This curs'd unsocial state, I'd die with transport: Gaze on the spreading fires-'till the last pile Sunk in the blaze-then mingle with its ruins." Pub. Thou shalt not live to that.

Thus perish all the enemies of Rome.

Re-enter VALERIUS.

[Exit after her.

[Without.

Valerius. Oh, horror! horror! execrable act; If there be law in Rome; if there be justice, By Rome, and all its gods, thou shalt not 'scape. [Exit.

Re-enter PUBLIUS, followed by HORATIA wounded. Horatia. Now thou'st indeed been kind, and I forgive you

The death of Curiatius; this last blow

Has cancell'd all, and thou'rt again my brother.
Horatius. Heavens! what a sight!

A daughter bleeding by a brother's hand!

My child my child!

Horatia. What means this tenderness? I thought

to see you

Inflam'd with rage against a worthless wretch
Who has dishonour'd your illustrious race,
And stain'd its brightest fame: in pity look not
Thus kindly on me, for I have injur'd you.
Horatius. Thou hast not, girl;

I said 'twas madness, but he would not hear me. Horatia. Oh, wrong him not; his act was noble justice,

rc'd him to the deed; for know, my father,

It was not madness, but the firm result

Of settled reason, and deliberate thought.
I was resolv'd on death, and witness, Heaven,
I'd not have died by any hand but his,

For the whole round of fame his worth shall boast
Through future ages.

Horatius. What hast thou said? Wert thou so bent on death?

Was all thy rage dissembled ?

Horatia. Alas, my father I

All but my love was false; what that inspir'd
I utter'd freely.

But for the rest, the curses which I pour'd
On heaven-defended Rome, were merely lures
To tempt his rage, and perfect my destruction.
Heaven with what transport I beheld him mov'd!
How my heart leap'd to meet the welcome point,
Stain'd with the life-blood of my Curiatius,
Cementing thus our union ev'n in death.

Pub. My sister live! I charge thee live, Horatia ! Oh, thou hast planted daggers here.

Horatia. My brother!

Can you forgive me too! then I am happy.
I dar'd not hope for that? Ye gentle ghosts
That rove Elysium, hear the sacred sound!
My father and my brother both forgive me !
I have again their sanction on my love.
Oh, let me hasten to those happier climes,
Where, unmolested, we may share our joys,
Nor Rome, nor Alba, shall disturb us more.

[Dias.

Horatius. 'Tis gone, the prop, the comfort of my

age.

Let me reflect; this morn I had three children,
No happier father hail'd the sun's uprising:
Now, I have none, for, Publius, thou must die :
Blood calls for blood-to expiate one parricide,
Justice demands another-Art thou ready?

Pub. Strike! 'tis the consummation of my wishes To die, and by your hand.

Horatius. Oh, blind old man!

Wouldst thou lift up thy sacrilegious hand
Against the chief, the god that sav'd thy country ?
There's something in that face that awes my soul,
Like a divinity. Hence, thou vile weapon,
Disgrace my hand no more.

[A cry without.] Justice! Justice !

What noise is that?

Enter VOLSCINIUS.

Vols. All Rome, my lord, has taken the alarm, and crowds

Of citizens enrag'd, are posting hither,

To call for justice on the head of Publius.
Horatius. Ungrateful men! how dare they? Let

them come.

Enter TULLUS, VALERIUS, and Citizens. Valerius. See, fellow-citizens, see where she lies, The bleeding victim.

Tullus. Stop, unmanner'd youth!

Think'st thou we know not wherefore we are here?

Seest thou yon drooping sire?

Horatius. Permit them, sir.

Tullus. What would you, Romans? Valerius. We are come, dread sir, In the behalf of murder'd innocence; Murder'd by him, the man

Horatius. Whose conquering arm

Has sav'd you all from ruin. Oh, shame! shame!
Has Rome no gratitude? Do ye not blush
To think whom your insatiate rage pursuses?
Down, down, and worship him.

1st Citizen. Does he plead for him?

2d Citizen. Does he forgive his daughter's death? Horatius. He does,

And glories in it, glories in the thought

That there's one Roman left who dares be grateful; If you are wrong'd, then what am I? Must I

Be taught my duty by th' affected tears

Of strangers to my blood? Had I been wrong'd,
I know a father's right, and had not ask'd

This ready-talking sir to bellow for me,
And mouth my wrongs in Rome.

Valerius. Friends, countrymen, regard not what he says;

Stop, stop your ears, nor hear a frantic father

Thus plead against his child.

Horatius. He does belie me.

What child have I Alas! I have but one

And him you would tear from me.

G

All Citizens. Hear him! hear him!

Pub. No; let me speak. Think'st thou, ungrateful youth,

To hurt my quiet? I am hurt beyond

Thy power to harm me. Death's extremest tortures
Were happiness to what I feel. Yet know,
My injur'd honour bids me live; nay, more,
It bids me even descend to plead for life.
But wherefore waste I words? 'Tis not to him,
But you, my countrymen, to you, I speak ;
He lov'd the maid.

1st Citizen. How! lov'd her!

Pub. Fondly lov'd her;

And, under shew of public justice, screens
A private passion, and a mean revenge.

Think you I lov'd her not? High Heaven's my

ness

How tenderly I lov'd her; and the pangs

I feel this moment, could you see my heart,
'Twould prove too plainly I am still her brother.
1st Citizen. He shall be sav'd.

Valerius has misled us.

All Citizens. Save him! save him!
Tullus. If yet a doubt remains,

wit

Behold that virtuous father, who could boast
This very morn, a numerous progeny,
The dear supports of his declining age;
Then read the sad reverse with pitying eyes,
And tell your conscious hearts they fell for your.
Horatius. I am o'erpaid by that, nor claim I ought