 | Virginius |  |
SCENE II.
—A Street in Rome.Enter Lucius, meeting Titus, Servius, and Cneius.
Luc.
Well, masters, any news of Siccius Dentatus from the
camp, how he was received by the decemvirs?
Tit.
He was received well by the decemvirs.
Cne.
It wasn't then for the love they bear him.
Tit.
But they expect he'll help them to return the cuffs they
have gotten from the enemy.
Ser.
Do you wish for a victory?
Luc.
Yes, if Dentatus wins it. 'Tis to our credit, masters
—He's one of us.
Ser.
And is not Spurius Oppius one of us?
Luc.
He is; but he's in league with the patricians—that is,
the patrician decemvirs. He is but half a plebeian, and that
is the worst half. The better half he threw away when he
became half a patrician. I never liked your half-and-half
gentry; they generally combine the bad of both kinds, without
the good of either.
Ser.
Well, we shall have news presently. Your brother,
Icilius, has just arrived with despatches from the camp. I
met him passing through the Forum, and asked him what
news he brought. He answered, none; but added, we might
look for news of another kind than what we had been lately
accustomed to hear.
[A shriek without.
Cne.
What's that!
Tit.
Look yonder, masters! See!
Ser.
'Tis Appius's client dragging a young woman along
with him.
Tit.
Let us stand by each other, masters, and prevent him.
Enter Claudius, dragging along Virginia, followed by Servia and others.
Servia.
Help! help! help!
Luc.
Let go your hold!
Claud.
Stand by!
She is my slave!
Servia.
His slave? Help! help! His slave?—
He looks more like a slave than she! Good masters!
Protect the daughter of Virginius!
Luc.
Release the maid.
Tit.
Forbear this violence.
I call for the assistance of the laws;
She is my slave.
Servia.
She is my daughter, masters,
My foster-daughter; and her mother was
A free-born woman—and her father is
A citizen!—a Roman!—good Virginius,
As I said before—Virginius, the centurion,
Whom all of you must know.—Help! help! I say.
You see she cannot speak to help herself;
Speak for her, masters—help her, if you're men!
Tit.
Let go your hold!
Claud.
Obstruct me at your peril!
Luc.
We'll make you, if you will not!
Claud.
Let me pass!
Ser.
Let go your hold, once more!
Claud.
Good masters! patience—
Hear me, I say—She is my slave—I wish not
To use this violence, my friends; but may not
A master seize upon his slave?—Make way,
Or such of you as are dissatisfied,
Repair with me to the decemvir.—Come,
I only want my right!
Tit.
Come on, then!
Ser.
Ay,
To the decemvir!
Servia.
Run, run for Numitorius!—Alarm our neighbours!
—Call out Icilius' friends!—I shall go mad! Help! help!
help!
[They go out.
| Virginius | |