University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Room in Horatius's House.
Enter Horatius, Valeria following.
Horatius.
Away, away,—I feel my strength renew'd,
And I will hunt the Villain thro' the World;
No Desarts shall conceal, nor Darkness hide him.
He is well skill'd in Flight, but he shall find
'Tis not so easy to elude the Vengeance
Of a wrong'd Father's Arm, as to escape
His Adversary's Sword.

Valeria.
Restrain your Rage
But for a Moment Sir; when you shall hear
The whole unravel'd, you will find he's innocent.

Horatius.
It cannot be.

Valeria.
And see my Brother comes,
He may perhaps relate—

Horatius.
I will not hear him;
I will not listen to my Shame again.

Enter Valerius.
Valerius.
I come with kind condolance from the King
To sooth a Father's Grief, and to express—

Horatius.
I've heard it all; I pray you spare my Blushes.
I want not Consolation, 'tis enough
They perish'd for their Country. But the third—

Valerius.
True, he indeed may well supply their Loss,
And calls for all your Fondness.

Horatius.
All my Vengeance;
And he shall have it, Sir.

Valerius.
What means my Lord?
Are you alone displeas'd with what he has done?

Horatius.
'Tis I alone, I find, must punish it.

Valerius.
Punish, my Lord? What Fault has he committed?

Horatius.
Why will you double my Confusion thus?
Is Flight no Fault?

Valerius.
In such a Cause as his
'Twas glorious.

Horatius.
Glorious! O rare Sophistry,
To find a Way through Infamy to Glory!

Valerius.
I scarce can trust my Senses!—Infamy!
What, was it infamous to save his Country?
Is Art a Crime? Is it the Name of Flight
We can't forgive, though its ador'd Effect
Restor'd us all to Freedom, Fame, and Empire?

Horatius.
What Fame, what Freedom, who has saved his Country?

Valerius.
Your Son, my Lord, has done it.

Horatius.
How, when, where?

Valerius.
Is't possible? Did you not say you knew?

Horatius.
I care not what I knew; O tell me all,
Is Rome still free? has Alba? has my Son?
Tell me.

Valerius.
Your Son, my Lord, has slain her Champions.

Horatius.
What, Publius?

Valerius.
He.

Horatius.
O let me clasp thee to me—
Were there not three remaining?

Valerius.
True, there were;
But wounded all.

Horatius.
Your Sister here had told us
That Rome was vanquish'd, that my Son was fled—

Valerius.
And he did fly, but 'twas that Flight preserv'd us.
All Rome as well as she has been deceiv'd.

Horatius.
Let me again embrace thee.—Come, relate it.
Did I not say, Valeria, that my Boy
Must needs be dead, or Rome victorious?
I long to hear the Manner.—Well, Valerius.

Valerius.
Your other Sons, my Lord, had paid the Debt
They owed to Rome, and he alone remain'd
'Gainst three Opponents, whose united Strength,
Tho' wounded each, and robb'd of half their Force,
Was still too great for his. Awhile he stood
Their fierce Assaults, and then pretended Flight
Only to tire his wounded Adversaries.

Horatius.
Pretended Flight, and this succeeded, ha!
O glorious Boy!

Valerius.
'Twas better still, my Lord;
For all pursued, but not with equal Speed.
Each eager for the Conquest press'd to reach him,
Nor did the first 'till 'twas too late perceive
His fainter Brothers panting far behind.

Horatius.
He took them singly then? an easy Conquest,
'Twas Boy's Play only.

Valerius.
Never did I see
Such universal Joy, as when the last
Sunk on the Ground beneath Horatius' Sword;
Who seem'd awhile to parley as a Friend,
And would have given him Life, but Caius scorn'd it.

Valeria.
Caius! O poor Horatia!

Horatius.
Peace, I charge thee.
Go, dress thy Face in Smiles, and bid thy Friend
Wake to new Transports; let Ambition fire her;
What is a Lover lost? There's not a Youth
In Rome but will adore her; Kings will seek
For her Alliance now, and mightiest Chiefs
Be honour'd by her Smiles. Will they not, Youth?

[Exit Valeria.
Valerius.
Most sure, my Lord, this Day has added Worth
To her, whose Merit was before unequall'd.

Horatius.
How could I doubt his Virtue!—Mighty Gods,
This is true Glory, to preserve his Country,
And bid by one brave Act th'Horatian Name
In Fame's eternal Volumes be enroll'd.
Methinks already I behold his Triumph.
Rome gazes on him like a second Founder,
The wond'ring Eye of Childhood views with Awe
The new Divinity, and trembling Age
Crowds eager on to bless him ere it dies!
Ere long, perhaps, they will raise Altars to him,
And even with Hymns and Sacrifice adore
The Virtue I suspected!—Gracious Heav'n!
Where is he? Let me fly, and at his Feet
Forget the Father, and implore a Pardon
For such Injustice.

Valerius.
You may soon, my Lord,
In his Embraces lose the fond Remembrance
Of your mistaken Rage. The King ere this
Has from the Field dispatch'd him; he but stay'd
'Till he could send him home with some slight Honours
Of scatter'd Wreaths, and grateful Songs of Praise.
For 'till to-morrow he postpones the Pomp
Of solemn Thanks, and Sacrifice to Heaven
For Liberty restor'd. But hark! that Shout,
Which sounds from far, and seems the mingled Voice
Of Thousands, speaks him onward on his Way.

Horatius.
How my Heart dances!—Yet I blush to meet him.
But I will on. Come, come Horatia, leave
[Calling at the Door.
Thy Sorrow far behind, and let us fly
With open Arms to greet our common Glory.
[Exit Horatius.

Enter Horatia and Valeria, to Valerius.
Horatia.
Yes, I will go; this Father's hard Command
Shall be obey'd, and I will meet the Conqueror;
But not in Smiles.

Valerius.
O go not, gentle Lady;
Might I advise—

Valeria.
Your Griefs are yet too fresh,
And may offend him; do not, my Horatia.

Valerius.
Indeed 'twere better to avoid his Presence,
It will revive your Sorrows, and recall—

Horatia.
Sir, when I saw you last I was a Woman,
The Fool of Nature, a fond Prey to Grief,
Made up of Sighs and Tears. But now, my Soul
Disdains the very Thought of what I was;
'Tis grown too callous to be mov'd with Toys.
Observe me well; am I not nobly chang'd?
Flow my sad Eyes, or heaves my Breast one Groan?
No, for I doubt no longer. 'Tis not Grief,
'Tis Resolution now, and fix'd Despair.

Valeria.
My dear Horatia, you strike Terrors thro' me;
What dreadful Purpose hast thou form'd? O speak!

Valerius.
Talk gently to her.—Hear me yet, sweet Lady;
You must not go; whatever you resolve
There is a Sight will pierce you to the Soul.

Horatia.
What Sight?

Valerius.
Alas, I should be glad to hide it;
But it is—

Horatia.
What?

Valerius.
Your Brother wears in Triumph
The very Scarf I bore to Curiatius.

Horatia.
[Wildly.
Ye Gods, I thank ye! 'tis with Joy I hear it.
If I should falter now, that Sight would rouze
My drooping Rage, and swell the Tempest louder.
—But soft; they may prevent me; my wild Passion
Betrays my Purpose.—I'll dissemble with them.

[She sits down.
Valerius.
She softens now.

Valeria.
How do you, my Horatia?

Horatia.
Alas, my Friend, 'tis Madness which I utter—
Since you persuade me then, I will not go.
But leave me to myself; I would sit here,
Alone in silent Sadness pour my Tears,
And meditate on my unheard-of Woes.

Valerius
to Valeria.
'Twere well to humour this. But may she not
If left alone do Outrage on herself?

Valeria.
I have prevented that; she has not near her
One Instrument of Death.

Valerius.
Retire we then.
But oh not far, for now I feel my Soul
Still more perplex'd with Love. Who knows, Valeria,
But, when this Storm of Grief has blown its Fill,
She may grow calm, and listen to my Vows.

[Exeunt Valerius and Valeria.
After a short Silence Horatia rises, and comes forward.
Horatia.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

A Street of Rome.
CHORUS of Youths and Virgins singing and scattering Branches of Oak, Flowers, &c. Then enters Horatius leaning on the Arm of Publius Horatius.
Horatius.

Publius.
No more, my Friends.—You must permit me, Sir,
To contradict you here. Not but my Soul,
Like yours, is open to the Charms of Praise:
There is no Joy beyond it, when the Mind
Of him who hears it can with honest Pride
Confess it just, and listen to its Music.
But now the Toils I have sustain'd require
Their Interval of Rest, and every Sense
Is deaf to Pleasure.—Let me leave you, Friends;
We're near our Home, and would be private now:
To-morrow we'll expect your kind Attendance
To share our Joys, and waft our Thanks to Heaven.

[As they are going off Horatia rushes in.
Horatia.
Where is this mighty Chief?

Horatius.
My Daughter's Voice!
I bade her come; she has forgot her Sorrows,
And is again my Child.

Horatia.
Is this the Hero
That tramples Nature's Ties, and nobly soars
Above the Dictates of Humanity?
Let me observe him well.

Publius.
What means my Sister?

Horatia.
Thy Sister! I disclaim the impious Title;
Base and inhuman! Give me back my Husband,
My Life, my Soul, my murdered Curiatius!

Publius.
He perish'd for his Country.

Horatia.
Gracious Gods,
Was't not enough that thou had'st murdered him,
But thou must triumph in thy Guilt, and wear
His bleeding Spoils?—O let me tear them from thee,
Drink the dear Drops that issued from his Wounds,
More dear to me than the whole Tide that swells
With impious Pride a hostile Brother's Heart.

Horatius.
Am I awake, or is it all Illusion!
Was it for this thou cam'st?

Publius.
Horatia, hear me.
Yet I am calm, and can forgive thy Folly;
Would I could call it by no harsher Name.
But do not tempt me farther.—Go, my Sister,
Go hide thee from the World, nor let a Roman
Know with what Insolence thou dar'st avow
Thy Infamy, or what is more my Shame
How tamely I forgave it.—Go, Horatia.

Horatia.
I will not go.—What, have I touch'd thee then?
And can'st thou feel?—O think not thou shalt lose
Thy share of Anguish. I'll pursue thee still,
Urge thee all Day with thy unnatural Crimes,
Tear, harrow up thy Breast: and then at Night
I'll be the Fury that shall haunt thy Dreams;
Wake thee with Shrieks, and place before thy Sight
Thy mangled Friends in all their Pomp of Horror.

Publius.
Away with her; 'tis womanish Complaining.
Think'st thou such Trifles can alarm the Man
Whose noblest Passion is his Country's Love?
—Let it be thine, and learn to bear Affliction.

Horatia.
Curse on my Country's Love, the Trick ye teach us
To make us Slaves beneath the Mask of Virtue;
To rob us of each soft endearing Sense,
And violate the first, great Law within us.
I scorn the impious Passion.

Publius.
Have a Care;
Thou'st touch'd a String which may awake my Vengeance.

Horatia.
[Aside.
Then it shall do it.

Publius.
O, if thou dar'st prophane
That sacred Tie which winds about my Heart,
By Heaven I swear, by the great Gods who rule
The Fate of Empires, 'tis not this fond Weakness
Which hangs upon me, and retards my Justice,
Nor even thy Sex, which shall protect thee from me.

[Clapping his Hand on his Sword.
Horatius.
Drag her away—thou'lt make me curse thee, Girl—
Indeed she's mad.

[To Publius.
Horatia.
Stand off, I am not mad—
Nay, draw thy Sword; I do defy thee, Murderer,
Barbarian, Roman!—Mad; the Name of Rome
Makes Madmen of you all; my Curses on it.
I do detest its impious Policy.
Rise, rise ye States (O that my Voice could fire
Your tardy Wrath!) confound its selfish Greatness,
Rase it's proud Walls, and lay its Towers in Ashes!

Publius.
I'll bear no more—

[Drawing his Sword.
Horatius.
Distraction!—Force her off—

Horatia.
[Struggling.
Could I but prove the Helen to destroy
This curs'd unsocial State, I'd die with Transport:
Gaze on the spreading Fires—'till the last Pile
Sunk in the Blaze—then mingle with its Ruins.

Publius.
Thou shalt not live to that.

Horatius.
Assist me, Friends—
Drag—tear her off.—O Publius—O my Son—
Spare, spare a Father!

[They force her off.
Publius.
[After a Pause.
Let her avoid me then.—My whole Soul's mov'd,
And Rome's immortal Genius stirs within me!
Yes, ye dread Powers, whose everlasting Fires
Blaze on our Altars, and whose sacred Shields
From Heaven descending guard imperial Rome,
I feel, I feel your Wrongs—for you I fought,
For you I bear the Sword.—Lead on my Friends.

[Exit.
Horatius.
[Looking at him as he goes out.
How dreadful, yet how lovely is his Virtue!

[Going after him.
Enter Valerius and two or three Servants.
Valerius.
[Stopping Horatius.
Saw you your Daughter, Sir?

Horatius.
Alas, Valerius,
I yet stand trembling on the Brink of Fate,
And scarce can think the dreadful Moment past.
She has been here, and with such impious Outrage
Assail'd her Brother, that our utmost Force
Scarce sav'd her from his Sword.

Valerius.
He could not sure
Attempt her Life!

Horatius.
He did.

Valerius.
And could you bear
That Sight, my Lord?

Horatius.
Valerius, ask me not
What I could bear. I feel the Torment still.
And dread to think what Mischiefs had ensued
Had I like him been warm'd and deaf to Nature.

Valerius.
But she is safe?

Horatius.
Yes, from the Sword she is;
But mad as the Cumæan Maid she raves,
And pours incessant Curses on her Country.
Misguided Girl!
But I can bear my Fate; the Hand of Heaven
Chastises thus my Insolence of Joy,
I were too happy else!—Yet Art perhaps
May give her Ease, your Sister will attend her.
I must not see her now; Publius will think
That I neglect him; every Pang I feel
Affronts his Virtue, and each idle Doubt
Is Treason to the State his Arm has saved.
O my divided Heart!

[Exit.
Valerius.
Publius will think!
Then 'tis in Rome, it seems, become a Crime
Ev'n for the softer Sex to let their Anguish
Transport their Souls beyond the Bounds of Reason.
Our Heroes would new-mold Humanity;
And tie down Madness to the pedant Rules
Of dull Discretion.—Dar'd attempt her Life!
Let me not think on that. I will avoid him,
'Till I am calm again.—Go some of you
This Way, some that, and search my Sister out.
Say, If I meet her not, I shall return
And wait her here.—This Violence of Grief
Cannot last long and such a Heart as hers
So form'd for Passion, so accessible
To tender Pains, may learn once more to prove
The pleasing Transports of reviving Love.