University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Enter Fulvia.
Æt.
My Fulvia, worthier of thyself, thy husband
Again returns, and to thy beauty owes
His greatest trophies. Midst alarms and death,
Glory and love alike inflam'd my ardour;
Nor would this hand have conquer'd for the pride
Of laurel wreaths alone to crown my toils—
But ha! what mean'st thou? At the tender names
Of lover and of husband, from thy cheek
The colour fades—and dost thou meet me thus
After our cruel parting? This my welcome!

Fulv.
O! torture to endure! [aside.]
—I come, my lord—

Æt.
Does Fulvia treat me then with cold respect?
Why am not I thy faithful husband still?
Alas! thou'rt her no more whom once I knew—

Fulv.
O Heaven! I'm still the same—but speak, my father.

Æt.
What means she, Maximus?

Max.
I have till now
Been silent, that our sorrows might not poison
The joy this day should bring thee—yes, my friend,
We live beneath a hard imperious yoke:
Our very thoughts must be enslav'd: thy conquest
Has freed us, Ætius, from a foreign foe,
But added strength to our domestic troubles.
Fear was a curb on Cæsar, that remov'd,
Now thou hast conquer'd, soon the groaning land
Shall find him haughtier still, and more the tyrant.

Æt.
I cannot think him thus—at least from me
His tyranny has ever been conceal'd:
What would he seek? What would he claim?

Max.
Thy wife.

Æt.
Ha! claim my wife! my Fulvia! Maximus?
And have you both consented to betray me?

Fulv.
Alas!

Max.
What subterfuge could I employ?
Or would'st thou have me, by refusing her
To share his throne, expose her to the will
Of an offended tyrant? Rather would'st thou
I should revive the tale of old Virginius,
And slay my daughter to preserve her chaste?
O no! 'tis thou alone canst break our chains,
And canst avenge thy wrongs. Thine are the people;
The army all is thine. Thou ow'st revenge
To Rome oppress'd, and to thy love betray'd.
Thou know'st no victim can be slain which Heaven
Accepts more gladly than an impious king.

Æt.
What hast thou said?—But passion blinds thy virtue,
And grief is ever found a partial judge.
Monarchs are delegates of Heaven on earth,
And Heaven must punish them—Be every means
Employ'd, but let us guard our faith untainted.

Max.
Exalted hero! equal to thy courage,
[embraces him.]
With wonder Maximus surveys thy truth,
That rises still superior to thy wrongs.—
—Yes we must change our speech, dissimulation
Assist me now.

[aside.
Fulv.
Can Ætius then so tamely
Resign his Fulvia to another's arms?

Æt.
Thou yet art free from every tye. To Cæsar
I'll plead my cause, and all shall yet be well.

Fulv.
O Heaven! and should'st thou speak, I tremble for thee!

Æt.
As yet the emperor knows not of my love.

Max.
From him, with caution, I conceal'd your passion.

Æt.
Hence springs the error. Cæsar's not to blame:
No, had he heard, his prudence had suppress'd
His growing love; he knows how much he owes me,
And knows it were not wisdom to provoke me.

Fulv.
Trust not too far—Ætius, a thousand fears
Distract my soul: Cæsar's too much a lover,
And thou art too unguarded in thy warmth.
O Heaven! reflect awhile—my heart forebodes
Some fatal mischief: I was born unhappy,
And must not hope my fate will ever change.

Æt.
With conquest I'm return'd; thou know'st that Ætius
Adores thee ever, yet my Fulvia weeps.

[Exit.