University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A guard-house. Soldiers gaming; a gladiator and others looking on.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Good luck, good rattle-bones! and for a wish,
I'll back my wager;—here's your victory!

SECOND SOLDIER.
Who is your match?

GLADIATOR.
I neither know nor care.

SECOND SOLDIER.
What! sulky?—eh!

FIRST SOLDIER.
Hurra! Venus again!
Smile up!—we win the day.

GLADIATOR.
Where is the use?
Three times I've play'd for life, for life or death,
And won my game; but he who fights with me,
Although he has it, up go all their thumbs;
And up stands he alive, and walks away.
They call this sport—I call it make-believe;
Tames us to fight like children 'stead of men,
Filling our school with craven beaten slaves.
Give me the good old ways. If I were down,
I'd have my death, my due; no thumbing me,
Except the backward way.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Well done, my boy;
My wager 'gainst the world. Were all like you,
Then should we have a festival were worth.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Not till we have a præfect wide awake.

THIRD SOLDIER.
Order there!—order! We are of the state,
And must support its dignity.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Ay, true;
It needs a heavy prop.

Enter a Lictor, with Barac.
LICTOR.
Up, soldiers!—ho!
To your feet. Ready, and out! Here's news to stir ye;
Service that's sport, and better sport beyond.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Who is your slinker?

LICTOR.
Learn the trick of him;
And slink like moles, with eyes as keen as lynxes,
Towards the cave east of the aqueduct.
First to the market-place to hear the edict,
And then to seize them at their sport—a covey
Of Christians!

SOLDIERS.
Ha! huzza!

BARAC.
No time to lose;
The trap hath open doors; they may escape.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Put up your tongue; we'll pounce upon them sweetly:
Look you, that is the spring.

BARAC.
Hold! hold!

SECOND SOLDIER.
No tiger
In the arena—

LICTOR.
See you harm them not;
Bring them alive!

FIRST SOLDIER.
I would not rob the beasts
By rubbing off their bloom.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Was e'er such luck?
Ha, sulky!—they'll divide the sport with you.

GLADIATOR.
Beware they try it not on you. I saw
A Christian once strangle in the arena
A savage wolf. Lean, lithe, and swift as sure,
The creature sprang at him with hungry howl;
His eye a ruddy fire, his crimson laps
Drawn tightly up above a shew of teeth
That glitter'd joyful at their coming meal.
The man stood still to wait him (as the death),
Nor made or sign or move; when in a twink
His hands had grasp'd the wolf about the throat—
The next, he dropp'd him dead into the sand
Lightly, as one might throw away a weed;
And yet they slew that man, and spare our cowards!

LICTOR.
Come, all is ready.

FIRST SOLDIER
(to Barac).
Lead you on, old mole!
Don't draw too far ahead into the dark.

LICTOR.
Steady; and follow up.

[Exeunt.