University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

ROSCIUS, METELLUS, CATILINE, BALBUS, OFELLA, CATULUS, SYLLA, Chief of the Lictors.
SYLLA,
(speaking to ROSCIUS, who is retiring).
Draw nearer, senators;—stay, Roscius,
You seem embarrassed; whence is this constraint,
And wherefore?—Banish in my presence fear:
Lavish of hatred t'wards mine enemies,
There's no one showers more favours on his friends;
'Tis none of you my present aspect threatens;
Then fearless hear me, and let each be seated.
[The Lictors seat themselves in order at a marble table, upon which the Chief of the Lictors, on a given signal from SYLLA, places a roll of parchment.
You know at what price I've acquired a power
Of which the duty was imposed on me
By an expiring state; what matters it,
That Sylla, glorying in his feats of war,
Had carried to the earth's extremest bounds
The Roman name; that by me Mithridates
Had been compell'd to fly; and to my car
In triumph yoked Jugurtha; that for me
Fortune, with miracles so vastly pregnant,
Had given you glory, and the world repose;
If Marius, reaping of my daring deeds
The fruit, had dictated to the senate laws;
And, bursting of a frantic mob the bonds,
Given the republic up to its blind fury?
Rome then, triumphant tho' abroad, at home
A slave, would have expired beneath the blows
Of her own children;—from so sad a fate
Whose arm was it that snatched her?—it was Sylla's;—
Sylla propitious shews before Præneste;
All flee or fall; all yield to my first efforts,
And Marius' son attends his father's shade.
With me, abjuring counsels of false mercy,
Terror and vengeance enter into Rome;
The safety of the state demands proscriptions,
And waves of blood must quench each raging faction.
Behold me master of the people, and
Alike the senate: the one learns to fear,
The other learns to know me: while my power
Hated so much, stands as the last support
Of that same freedom I oppress to-day.
Far, far from Rome the God of battle roars,
And in your walls breathes mild the calm of peace;
Yet, yet you murmur, and some voices e'en
Give vent to rebel plainings, and the shade
From Arpinum aloft uprears its head,
And from the bosom of the tomb invokes
The tempest; guilty whispers heard around
Announce dark plots;—but they must be prevented.
The safety of the state in justice asks
A rigorous duty, one last sacrifice:
Look at the names inscribed upon that list—
They are the proscripts that Rome yet demands,
'Tis the last red flash of a healthful storm;—
Then give we to the public peace this pledge;
Yet I would know before you sign it, if
There's any Roman we can safely spare:
Look;—but remember well the case is such,
That each must answer for the friend so spared.

[Giving the list to METELLUS.
METELLUS.
In Cimber's favour I dare raise my voice;
Living retired, and to thy laws submissive,
Weighed down, protected by his load of years,
He had hoped, Sylla,—

CATILINE.
Did he dare to hope?
We know, tho' exiled, he augments his griefs,
Pours forth loud lamentations to his sons,
And treasures up the statues too of Marius.

SYLLA.
Age has well nigh consumed his waning fires:
Metellus shields him—'tis enough—he lives.

OFELLA.
Dare I of Sylla in my turn demand
What secret power, what guardian shade, can thus
From Cesar ward off dilatory justice?

SYLLA.
Like you I've weighed his vices and his virtues,
And I see more in Cesar than a Marius:
I know what hopes his young pride bacchanal:
But Pompey lives, and even so must Cesar.
'Mid all the Romans to my power submissive,
I have no rivals: I have need of foes;
Foes generous, tho' proud, whose presence serves
But to attest my genius as my might.
History will then my name associate
With that of Marius; Cesar will have lived
To do me justice.

CATILINE.
Of obscure criminals
The which thy mercy spares, I speak not; but
Excess of zeal tends to increase my prudence:
I see not Claudius' name upon the list;
Of all thy foes he's the most dangerous.

SYLLA.
I ask not whether thine emboldened hatred
Pursues in Claudius fair Valeria's husband;
Or whether this advice of Catiline,
So fatal, tends to serve my cause, or thwart
A rival.

CATILINE.
Son of that detested tribune,
Who sold thy goods, proscribed thy wife, Sulpicius;
'Tis he that threatens, it is he conspires,
Already hath his fury sworn revenge
To his paternal manes.

METELLUS.
While he boasts
The friendship of thy son, Sylla will surely
List to his pleading voice—'tis Catiline
Accuses, Faustus that defends him.

CATILINE.
I
Accuse his hatred, his designs—I know
Metellus, and my inexperience owns
Him wise in aught but this, but who to-day
Can say that Catiline's so much to blame?
For what does Claudius, but conspire 'gainst Sylla?
My feelings and my duty bid me speak;
A plot exists, and Claudius is its leader.
[SYLLA, (writing down the name of CLAUDIUS).
His ancestry's his crime, and 'tis Sulpicius
That feels my vengeance, tho' 'tis Claudius dies.
[Rising up.
What matters after all one man's existence?
I see nought, have seen nought, but Rome's fair safety;
No private interest now excites my rigour,
'Tis to avenge the laws that I'm dictator—
Rome will yet one day learn from me with what
Contempt I treat her highest power. Ho! lictors,
Be sure this law outstrips the sun.
[Gives the list to the Chief of the Lictors.
To the Senators.
And you,
Give me your answer when I rise to-morrow.

[He bows to them, and beckons ROSCIUS to remain.