 | Virginius |  |
SCENE I.
—A Street.Enter Appius and Marcus.
App.
I do abjure all further league with them:
They have most basely yielded up their power,
And compromised their glory. Had they died
In their high seats, they had lived demi-gods;
But now they live to die like basest men!
Power gone, life follows! Well! 'tis well we know
The worst! The worst?—The worst is yet to come;
And, if I err not, hither speeds a messenger
Whose heel it treads upon! Well, Vibulanus?
Enter Vibulanus, hastily, and other Decemvirs, with Marcus.
Vibul.
Honorius and Valerius are elected
To the consulate.—Virginius is made tribune.
App.
No doubt they'd snatch their offices, when ours
Were laid so poorly down. You have acted wisely!
Vibul.
Who could resist Virginius, raving at
The head of the revolted troops, with all
The commons up in arms? Waste not dear time!
Look to your safety, Appius. 'Tis resolved
To cite you instantly before the consuls.
App.
Look to my safety, say you? You would bid
A man, that's tumbling from a precipice
A hundred fathoms high, and midway down,
Look to his safety! What has he to snatch at?
Air!—E'en so much have I.
Vibul.
Withdraw awhile
From Rome. We shall recall you with applause
And honours.
App.
Yes! You saw me on the brink—
Beheld it giving way beneath my feet—
And saw me tottering o'er the hideous leap,
Whose sight sent round the brain with madd'ning whirl,
With but a twig to stay me, which you cut,
Because it was your friend that hung by it—
Most kindly!
Vibul.
Nay, employ the present time
In looking to your safety—that secured,
Reproach us as you will.
App.
I am in your hands,
Lead me which way you please.
Icil.
[without].
Hold! Stand!
App.
Icilius!
Icilius enters, with Honorius and Valerius as Consuls, Numitorius and Lictors.
Icil.
Did I not tell you 'twas the tyrant? Look
104
Ere mine eye told it me.—You are our prisoner!
App.
On what pretence, Icilius?
Icil.
Ask of poor
Virginius, tottering between despair
And madness, as he seeks the home, where once
He found a daughter!
App.
I demand due time
To make up my defence.
Icil.
Demand due time!
Appius!—Assign the cause, why you denied
A Roman maid, of free condition,
Her liberty provisionally, while
Her plea remain'd unjudged. No answer, Appius?
Lictors, lay hold upon him—to prison with him!
Look to him well. To prison with the tyrant!
[Appius and Lictors go out on one side; Icilius and Numitorius on the other.
Vibul.
Let all his friends, that their own safety prize,
Solicit straight for his enlargement; doff
Their marks of station, and to the vulgar eye
Disguise it with the garb of mourning; 'twill
Conciliate the crowd. We know them well:
But humour them, they are water soon as fire!
[They go out severally.
| Virginius | |