University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

CLODIUS, GABINIUS, PISO, attended by several Grecians, and others.
PISO.
Now, by the soul of Socrates, I swear
(Aside to his attendants.
They do me wrong, who say I sought this load
Of care and envy: I, a weak old man,
What other taste of joy have I, alas!
Save only with a few learn'd friends about me,
To measure out my last low dregs of life
In peace, and creep into a silent grave.

CLODIUS.
Most learn'd and noble Piso, fairly met.

GABINIUS.
Welcome, thrice-worthy Collegue!

PISO.
Welcome both:
Shame of my old eyes that I saw you not.

GABINIUS.
Bear with me, Brother, if I'm bold to tell you
You've done me wrong.

PISO.
Name it, and be redrest.

GABINIUS.
You are too studious of your ease, and seek
To shift the burthen, you was bound to share,
Upon the weaker shoulders: From the Senate
Wherefore this morning absent? whilst I bear
The sweat and labour of the day, at home
You sit, wrapt up in calm philosophy,
And moralize at leisure: 'Tis not well.

PISO.
Give me your pardon, when my Country made me
Their Consul, did they make me young withal,
Active and vigorous, like thee, Gabinius?
Or take me as they found me, an old man
Worn out with age and study? Let 'em then
Look for no other than an old man's service,
My counsel and my pray'rs; them they shall have.
I told you t'would be thus.

(To his Attendants.
CLODIUS.
Whence are these strangers?

PISO.
Of Athens.

CLODIUS.
Learn'd no doubt.—

PISO.
As Greece e'er bred.
Apollodorus, prithee call to mind
The lines which Athenæus (him, I mean
The Epigrammatist) writes in the praise
Of the wise Sect of Stoics, the sound school,
And true definers of the Sovereign Good;
Speak low, such are not for the public ear.

CLODIUS.
How this old specious rascal cheats the world!
Yon fellow is his parasite, his pimp;
I read it on his forehead.

PISO.
And did Clodia
Deliver this herself to you?

APOLLODORUS.
Herself,
With her own gracious lips.

PISO.
Gods, Gods! I thank you:
As soon as I can quit me of her brother,
With my best speed I'll seek her: Soft you now;
Was there nought else?

APOLLODORUS.
Yes, more; the fatted quails,
And the red mullet for your mistress Lesbia.—

CLODIUS.
—Give me your pardon, grave and reverend Sir,
If I break in upon your better thoughts,
And beg your patient ear: You're not to learn
What public, bold, and undisguis'd affront
I have of late endur'd; endur'd from one,
A public railer; whom nor birth, nor fortune,
Manhood, nor merit, have made great and noble,
But rancour, pride, and swoln conceit, conspire
To render hateful.

PISO.
'Tis to Marcus Cicero
Your preface points; and I must needs confess
He is too bitter, and too sharp in speech;
That error set aside, I hold him clear
Of every other stain.

CLODIUS.
Alas, good man,
With what dim eyes you see him! As for me,
'Tis known how I have liv'd; and I must own
In heat of youth, and wantonness of spirit,
I have done much to justify reproach:
But when he makes your gravity his jest,
Your wisdom and severity of manners
His table-scandal, every honest man
Cries out upon the wrong; and I who love,
Altho' I practise not your virtues, burn
For vengeance on the crime.

PISO.
When vice is honour,
I glory in reproach:—But wherefore this,
And whither would you lead? You say I'm wrong'd
Of Marcus Cicero; be his the shame,
Who did the wrong; I know not to revenge.

CLODIUS.
If private wrongs are nothing, yet your duty
To your lov'd Country, and the natural hatred,
Which each free Roman bears to slavery,
Bid you stand up and show yourself a man.
You talk of Pompey's greatness, and you tremble
At the fear'd name of Cæsar. Mighty Gods!
The tongue of this vain pedant plagues the state;
Ay, and enslaves you worse than their ambition,
Tho' it look up to Empire.

GABINIUS.
Come, no more.
If you are with us, thus with wide-stretch'd arms,
As Brother should greet Brother, we embrace you:
If not, be plain, tell us you hold not with us,
And we will on without you.

CLODIUS.
'Tis enough;
Piso, I know thy heart, and thou know'st mine;
Like cunning gamesters we have plied each other
With strained art, and run thro' every feint;
Now let us draw the undecided stake:
Take you your title of philosopher,
Barren unenvied lot: Let me depart
With the rich spoils of Macedon, which, Jove!
Thou know'st, I would have pour'd into his lap,
Who dar'd to own himself my friend.—Farewell.—

PISO.
Yet hear me, Clodius; what you take in hand
Demands mature and calm deliberation;
For trust me, 'tis no slight and trivial matter,
But bold and big with danger: Sleeps he then?
And hath the thunder of his eloquence
Forgot to roll? Or is it all as easy,
To buy the life of the first man of Rome,
As 'tis to traffick for the lowest slave?
When he was Consul, all men worship'd him;
He was the God of Rome: Not so you say,
“The Tyrant rather.”—Give me proof of that,
Let it outweigh the public voice, and make
The flatt'ring Senate liars; and by Heaven!
Had I and Marcus Cicero together
Laid in one womb, been foster'd at one breast,
Indignant I would shake him from my heart,
And give him up to justice and to thee.

CLODIUS.
And if I give you not the proof you ask,
Renounce me, Gods!

PISO.
Upon those terms we close;
At present strong occasions draw me hence;
To-night if you can relish such coarse fare
As my poor board affords, we will talk farther.

CLODIUS.
Agreed.

GABINIUS.
We'll be your thankful guests: Farewell.

(Exit Piso.