Thou'st touched a string which may awake my | I'd not have died by any hand but his, [To Publius. Horatia. Stand off, I am not madNay, draw thy sword; I do defy thee, murderer, Barbarian, Roman!-Mad! The name of Rome Makes madmen of you all; my curses on it! I do detest its impious policy. Rise, rise, ye states! (oh, that my voice could fire [Drawing his sword. This cursed unsocial state, I'd die with transport: Re-enter VALERIUS. Val. 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. For the whole round of fame his worth shall boast Through future ages. Hor. What hast thou said? Wert thou so bent on death? Was all thy rage dissembled? Horatia. Alas! my father! All but my love was false; what that inspired But for the rest, the curses which I poured 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. Horatia. Now thou'st indeed been kind, and I Wouldst thou lift up thy sacrilegious hand forgive you The death of Curiatius; this last blow Has cancelled all, and thou'rt again my brother. A daughter bleeding by a brother's hand! Against the chief, the god, that saved thy coun try? There's something in that face that awes my soul, [A cry without. Justice! Justice !] Horatia. What means this tenderness? I What noise is that? thought to see you Inflamed with rage against a worthless wretch, Hor. Thou hast not, girl; I said 'twas madness, but he would not hear me. Horatia. Oh, wrong him not; his act was noble justice; I forced him to the deed; for know, my father, Enter VOLSCINIUS. Vols. All Rome, my lord, has taken the alarm, and crowds Of citizens, enraged, are posting hither, Enter TULLUS, VALERIUS, and Citizens. Val. See, fellow-citizens, see where she lies, The bleeding victim. Tul. Stop, unmannered youth! Hor. Whose conquering arm Has saved you all from ruin. Oh, shame! shame! To think whom your insatiate rage pursues? 1st Citizen. Does he plead for him? Valerius has misled us. All Citizens. Save him! save him! Behold that virtuous father, who could boast, 2d Citizen. Does he forgive his daughter's death? The dear supports of his declining age; And glories in it, glories in the thought That there's one Roman left who dares be grate- If you are wronged, then what am I? Must I Val. Friends, countrymen, regard not what he says; Stop, stop your ears, nor hear a frantic father Hor. He does belie me. What child have I? Alas, I have but one! All Citizens. Hear him! hear him! Then read the sad reverse with pitying eyes, Hor. I am overpaid by that, nor claim I aught 1st Citizen. Oh, excellent Horatius! Tul. Then I pronounce him free. And now, The evening of thy stormy day at last Hor. My son, my conqueror! 'twas a fatal stroke, But shall not wound our peace. This kind em brace Shall spread a sweet oblivion o'er our sorrows; Pub. No; let me speak. Think'st thou, un- Or, if in after times, though 'tis not long grateful youth, To hurt my quiet? I am hurt beyond Thy power to harm me. Death's extremest tor tures Were happiness to what I feel. Yet know, 1st Citizen. How! loved her! That I shall trouble you, some sad remembrance Thou sav'dst the state, and I'll intreat forgiveness. Grief may to grief in endless round succeed, SCENE 1. Enter CURTIUS and POSTHUMIUS. ACT I. Cur. THERE's something of magnificence a- I have not seen at Rome. But you can tell me. Cur. His pride presumes To treat us here like subjects more than Romans, As Jove his storm, or sunshine, on his creatures. As the grey dawn before the blaze of noon: Philip had ne'er been conquered, but by Rome; To turn my thought on his domestic state. Cur. But whence this strife, Post. From this Philip's bed Two Alexanders spring. Cur. And but one world? "Twill never do. Post. They both are bright; but one, Benignly bright, as stars to mariners; And one a comet, with malignant blaze, Denouncing ruin. Cur. You mean Perseus. Post. True. The younger son, Demetrius, you well know, Was bred at Rome, our hostage from his father. Cur. Glows there not A second brand of enmity? Cur. I've partly heard Her smothered story. Post. Smothered by the king; And wisely too: but thou shalt hear it all. Between the crowns of Macedon and Thrace; And slew him, bold in vain; nor rested there; One child alone survived; a female infant, Post. Stung with sharp remorse, Cur. Is, then, Erixene that Thracian child? This is the picture of great Philip's court: Post. O, that's the jealous elder brother! Observe the fire, higli birth and empire kindle! Make sacred all I do, or can attempt! Had I been born a slave, I should affect it; Per. Why does Rome court him? For his vir- To fire him to dominion; to blow up His youth and valour second Rome's designs: Become all wise, all righteous, and almighty! Peri. And does that pain you? Per. O Pericles, to death! It is most truc, Through hate to him, and not through love for her, I paid my first addresses; but became Peri. Dominion and the princess both are lost, Unless you gain the king. Per. But how to gain him? Old men love novelties; the last arrived Some are designed by nature but for shew; Dem. Brother, of that no more: for shame, gird on Your glittering arms, and look like any Roman. But what is this, that dazzles my weak sight? Dem. 'Tis that helmet, Which Alexander wore at Granicus. Per. When he subdued the world? Ha! is't not so? What world hast thou subdued? O yes, the fair! Think'st thou there could, in Macedon, be found No brow might suit that golden blaze but thine? Dem. I wore it but to grace this sacred day : Jar not for trifles. Per. Nothing is a trifle, That argues the presumption of the soul. serve. Per. Or who, deserving, scorn superior merit. Dem. Who combats with a brother, wounds himself: Wave private wrath, and rush upon the foes Per. No; I would not wound Demetrius' friends. Dem. Demetrius' friends! Per. The Romans! You copy Hannibal, our great ally: peace, But to prevent my glory from the field? own: War now, were war with Philip more than Rome. Per. Come, you love peace; that fair cheek hates a scar! You, that admire the Romans, break the bridge With Cocles, or with Curtius leap the gulph; And league not with the vices of our foes. Dem. What vices? Per. With their women and their wits. Your idol Lælius, Lælius the polite. I hear, sir, you take wing, and mount in metre. Terence has owned your aid, your comrade Te rence. God-like ambition! Terence there, the slave! Dem. At Athens bred, and to the arts a foc? Per. At Athens bred, and borrow arts from Rome? Dem. Brother, I've done: let our contention cease: Our mother shudders at it in her grave! Per. Why, ay, go tell your father; fondly throw Your arms around him; stroke him to your pur pose, As you are wont: I boast not so much worth; To be surveyed, and hung about his neck! One way you may secure your father's peace; Dem. You flatter me, to think her in my power. We run our fates together: you deserve, And she can judge: proceed we, then, like friends; And he, who gains her heart, and gains it fairly, Let him enjoy his generous rival's too. Per. Smooth-speaking, insincere, insulting boy! Is, then, my crown usurped but half thy crime? Desist; or by the gods, that smile on blood, Not thy fine form, nor yet thy boasted peace, Nor patronizing Rome, nor Philip's tears, Nor Alexander's helmet; no, nor more, His radiant form, should it alight in thunder, And spread its new divinity between us, Should save a brother from a brother's fury! |