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SCENE THE FIFTH.
Icilius, Numitoria, Virginia.Nu.
Disastrous times! Days for degenerate deeds!
Oh, wretched mothers! ...
Virginia.
In thine eyes, oh spouse,
But for my father I had had no value.
Now I am bereft of him, how shall I dare
Proclaim myself thy wife?
Ici.
Thou shalt be ever
Virginius' daughter, and Icilius' wife,
And, which is more, I swear to thee, a Roman.
To be the faithful partner of my fate
Thee have I chosen; equal to myself
In virtue I esteem thee. To my lips
Phrases more soft than this love dictates not;
My arms, my heart, if need there be, will give
Proofs more conclusive of my tenderness.
But can ye guess the motive that impels
That miscreant thus to insult thee?
Virginia.
Say'dst thou not
He is the creature of the tyrant Appius?
Ici.
The servile tool of all his inclinations.
Virginia.
The reason then is too well known to me.
For a long time, with a flagitious love,
Has Appius burned for me ...
Ici.
What do I hear?
192
Nu.
We then are lost. Oh heavens!
Ici.
I live; and I have yet a sword. Fear not,
Oh ladies, fear not while Icilius breathes.
Virginia.
Listen, and shudder at his guilty boldness.
Oft has he tried to practise on my virtue
By circumvention, or seductive arts.
Menaces, promises, prayers, flatteries, gifts,
Whate'er is deem'd the price of chastity
To base patricians, he to me has offered.
Th'insufferable, and atrocious insult
I long dissembled: in the distant camp
My sire was stationed; and in vain, from me,
Alone, and powerless, had my mother heard it.
But now my lot assumes a different aspect:
I am thy wife, I am no longer silent.
Oh thou, the noblest of the Romans, thine
Not only is th'offence, but thine the vengeance.
Rivers of tears I silently have shed;
My tender mother often wept with me,
Pitying my grief, though ignorant of its cause.
Behold the horrid secret. Appius adds
Fraud now, and violence, to his former arts;
He is at once the plaintiff and the judge:
I shall be taken from thee, ere I can
Be thine: ah grant, at least, that he obtain me
No otherwise than dead!
Ici.
Ere thou be his,
Or ere he shed thy blood, shall Rome behold
Herself with blood inundated: my blood,
And that of every hero, shall be spill'd.
To those who fear not death, and who is Appius,
193
Nu.
Appius, alas! too much surpasses thee
In artifice.
Ici.
Though cruel and unjust,
Appius has hitherto at least preserved
The exterior of equity; all Rome
Will be assembled at th'important cause:
We need not yet despair. We stand in need
Of fortitude and judgment: above all
The father here is indispensable.
The camp is not far distant; it shall be
My first solicitude to reconduct
Him here without delay. Let us go hence;
Meanwhile, to your abode I am your guide.
A solace to you, ladies, sad, 'tis true,
But yet the only one that I can now
Propose to you, be the assured conviction,
That, if a path to justice is not opened,
Our swords, I swear, shall open one to vengeance.
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