University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Tullus, Volusius, who remain.
Volusius,
after some Silence,
Are we not, Tullus, failing in our Duty
Not to attend our General?

Tullus.
How! What saidst thou?

Volusius.
Methought, my Lord, his parting Orders were,
We should attend the Triumph now preparing
O'er all his Foes at once—Romans and Volsci!
Come, we shall give Offence.

Tullus.
Of this no more.
I pray thee spare thy bitter Irony.

Volusius.
Shall I then speak without Disguise?

Tullus.
Speak out:
With all the honest Bluntness of a Friend.
Think'st thou I fear the Truth?

Volusius.
Then, Tullus, know,
Thou art no more the General of the Volsci.
Thou hast, by this thy generous Weakness, sunk
Thyself into a private Man of Antium.
Yes, thou hast taken from thy laurel'd Brow
The well-earn'd Trophies of thy Toils and Perils,
Thy springing Hopes, the fairest ever budded,
And heap'd them on a Man too proud before.

Tullus.
He bears it high.

Volusius.
Death, and Perdition! high!
With uncontroul'd Command!—You see, already,
He will not be encumber'd with the Fetters
Of our Advice. He speaks his Sovereign Will;
On every Hand he issues out his Orders,
As to his natural Slaves.—For you, my Lord,
He has, I think, confin'd you to your Camp,
There in inglorious Indolence to languish;
While he, beneath your blasted Eye, shall reap
The Harvest of your Honour.

Tullus.
No, Volusius,
Whatever Honour shall by him be gain'd
Reverts to me, from whose superior Bounty
He drew the Means of all his glorious Deeds.
This mighty Chief, this Conqueror of Rome
Is but my Creature.—

Volusius.
Wretched Self-Delusion;
He and the Volscians know he is thy Master.
He acts as such in all Things—Now by Mars,
Could my abhorrent Soul endure the Thought
Of stooping to a Roman Chief, I here
Would leave thee in thy solitary Camp,
And go where Glory calls.

Tullus.
Indeed, Volusius,
I did expect more equal Treatment from him.
But what of that?—The generous Pride of Virtue
Disdains to weigh too nicely the Returns
Her Bounty meets with—Like the liberal Gods,
From her own gracious Nature she bestows,
Nor stoops to ask Reward—Yet must I own,
I thought he would not have so soon forgot
What he so lately was, and what I am.

Volusius.
Gods! knew ye not his Character before?
Did you not know his Genius was to yours
Averse, as are Antipathies in Nature?
High, over-weening, tyranously Proud,
And only fit to hold Command o'er Slaves?
Hence, as repugnant to that equal Life,
Which is the quickening Soul of all Republicks,
The Roman People cast him forth; and we,
Shall we receive the Bane of their Repose,
Into our Breast? Are we less free than they?
Or shall we be more patient of a Tyrant?

Tullus.
All this I knew. But while his Imperfections
Are thy glad Theme, thou hast forgot his Virtues.

Volusius.
I leave that Subject to the smooth Galesus,
And these his Volscian Flatterers—His Virtues!
Trust me there is no Insolence that treads
So high as that which rears itself on Virtue.

Tullus.
Well, be it so—I meant, that even his Vices
Should, on this great Occasion, serve the Volsci.

Volusius.
Confusion! there it is! there lurks the Sting
Of our Dishonour! while this Marcius leads
The Roman Armies, ours are driven before him.
Behold, he changes Sides; when with him changes
The Fortune of the War. Strait they grow Volsci
And we victorious Romans—Such, no doubt,
Such is his secret Boast—Ay, this vile Brand,
Success itself will fix for ever on us;
And, Tullus, thou, 'tis thou must answer for it.

Tullus,
aside.
His Words are Daggers to my Heart; I feel
Their Truth, but am asham'd to own my Folly.

Volusius.
O Shame! O Infamy! the Thought consumes me,
It scalds my Eyes with Tears, to see a Roman
Borne on our Shoulders to immortal Fame:
Just in the happy Moment that decided
The long Dispute of Ages, that for which
Our generous Ancestors had toil'd and bled,
To see him then step in and steal our Glory!
O that we first had perish'd all! A People,
Who cannot find in their own proper Force
Their own Protection, are not worth the saving!

Tullus

Volusius.
I scorn to flatter thee—It was indeed.

Tullus.
Curse on the Slave, Galesus! soothing, he
Seiz'd the fond Moment of Infatuation,
And clinch'd the Chains my generous Folly forg'd.
How shall I from this Labyrinth escape?
Must it then be! what cruel Genius dooms me,
In War or Peace to creep beneath his Fortune?

Volusius.
That Genius is thyself. If thou canst bear
The very Thought of stooping to this Roman,
Thou from that Moment art his Vassal, Tullus;
By that thou dost acknowledge, Parent Nature
Has form'd him thy Superior. But if fix'd
Upon the Base of manly Resolution,
Thou say'st—I will be free! I will command!
I and my Country! then—O never doubt it—
We shall find Means to crush this vain Intruder;
Even I myself—this Hand—
Nay, hear me, Tullus,
'Tis not yet come to that, that last Resource.
I do not say we should employ the Dagger,
While other, better Means are in our Power.

Tullus.