Horatia. [With some hesitation.] My brothers, gen.

tle sir, you said were well. Saw you their noble friends, the Curiatii ? The truce, perhaps, permitted it.

Valerius. Yes, Lady,
I left them jocund in your brothers' tent,
Like friends, whom envious storms awhile had parted,
Joying to meet again.

Horatia. Sent they no message ?
Valerius. None, fair-one, but such general saluta-

tion
As friends would bring unbid.

Horatia. Said Caius nothing ?
Valerius. Caius?
Horatia. Ay, Caius; did he mention me?
Valerius. 'Twas slightly, if he did, and 'scapes me

nowO yes, I do remember, when your brother Ask'd him, in jest, if he had ought to send, « A sigh's soft waftage, or the tender token « Of tresses breeding to fantastic forms,” To sooth a love-sick maid (your pardon, lady) He smil’d, and cry’d, Glory's the soldier's mistress. Horatia. Sir, you'll excuse me-something of im

portance My father may have business- Oh, Valeria!

[Aside to Valeria. Talk to thy brother, know the fatal truth I dread to hear, and let me learn to die, If Curiatius has indeed forgot me.

[Exit.

Valerius. She seems disorder'd !

Valeria. Has she not cause?
Can you administer the baneful potion,
And wonder at th' effect?

Valerius. You talk in riddles !
Valeria. They're riddles, brother, which your

heart unfolds,
Though you affect surprise. Was Curiatius
Indeed so cold? Poor shallow artifice,
The trick of hopeless love! I saw it plainly.
Yet what could you propose ? An hour's uneasiness
To poor Horatia; for be sure by that time
She sees bim, and your deep-wrought schemes are air.

Valerius. What could I do? this peace has ruin'd

1

While war continued, I had gleams of hope;
Some lucky chance might rid me of my rival,
And time efface his image in her breast.
But me

Valeria. Yes, now you must resolve to follow
Th' advice I gave you first, and root this passion
Entirely from your heart; for know, she dotes,
Ev'n to distraction dotes on Curiatius;
And every fear she felt, while danger threaten'd,
Will now endear him more.

l'alerius. Cruel Valeria,
You triumph in my pain

Valeria. By Heaven, I do not;
I only would extirpate every thought
Which gives you pain, nor leave one foolish wish

For hope to dally with. “ When friends are mad,
« 'Tis most unkind to humour their distraction ;
“ Harsh means are necessary.

“ Valerius. Yet we first " Should try the gentler.

“ Valeria. Did I not? Ye powers ! 16 Did I not sooth your griefs, indulge your fondness, " While the least prospect of success remain'd? “ Did I not press you still to urge your suit, • Intreat you daily to declare your passion, " Seek out unnumber'd opportunities, " And lay the follies of my sex before you; " Valerius. Alas! thou know'st, Valeria, woman's

"s heart " Was never won by tales of bleeding love : " 'Tis by degrees the sly enchanter works • Assuming friendship's name, and fits the soul • For soft impressions, ere the fault'ring tongue, " And guilty-blushing cheek, with many a glance “ Shot inadvertent, tells the secret flame. " Valeria. True, these are arts for those that love

at leisure; " You had no time for tedious stratagem; " A dang’rous rival press'd, and has succeeded."

Valerius. I own my error-yet once more assist meNay, turn not from me, by my soul I meant not To interrupt their loves. —Yet, should some accident, 'Tis not impossible, divide their hearts, I might, perhaps, have hope : therefore 'till marriage Cuts off all commerce, and confirms me wretched,

Be it thy task, my sister, with fond stories, Such as our ties of blood may countenance, To paint thy brother's worth, his power in arms, His favour with the king, “but most of all, “ That certain tenderness of soul which steals “ All women's hearts,” then mention many a fair, No matter whom, that sighs to call you sister.

Valeria. Well, well, away. Yet tell me, ere you go, How did this lover talk of his Horatia? Valerius. Why will you mention that ungrateful

subject? Think what you've heard me breathe a thousand times When my whole soul dissolo'd in tenderness; 'Twas rapture all; what lovers only feel, Or can express when felt. He had been here, But sudden orders from the camp detain'd him. Farewell, Horatius waits membut remember, My life, nay, more than life, depends on you. [Exit. Valeria. Poor youth! he knows not how I feel his

anguish, Yet dare not seem to pity what I feel. How shall I act betwixt this friend and brother? Should she suspect his passion, she may doubt My friendship too; and yet to tell it her Were to betray his cause. No, let my heart With the same blameless caution still proceed; To each inclining most as most distrest; Be just to both, and leave to Heav'n the rest! [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I.

Continues. Enter HORATIA and VALERIA.

Horatia.
ALAS, “ how easily do we admit
“ The thing we wish were truel yet sure," Valeria,
This seeming negligence of Curiatius
Betrays a secret coldness at the heart.
May not long absence, or the charms of war,
Have damp'd, at least, if not effac'd his passion?
I know not what to think.

Valeria. Think, my Horatia,
That you're a lover, and have learn'd the art
To raise vain scruples, and torment yourself
With every distant hint of fancied ill.

Your Curiatius still remains the same.
My brother idly trifled with your passion,
Or might, perhaps, unheedingly relate
What you too nearly feel. But see, your father.
Horatia. He seems transported; sure some happy

news Has brought him back thus early. Oh, my heart I I long, yet dread to ask him, Speak, Valeria.

Enter HORATIUS.
Valeria. You're soon return'd, my lord.

Horatius. Return’d, Valeria!
My lle, iny youth's return'd, I tread in air !