 | The Tragedy of Sertorius |  |
SCEN. III.
Cassius, Terentia.Cass.
From Fortune's Minion, sorrowing Cassius coms,
Where Slaughter gluts upon the Bodies slain,
Pastime and sport, to the rough Sons of War;
Sensless to me the gaudy feast appear'd;
For here, within my brest, I feell a grief
That makes a Fiction of the Vulture's gripe:
Yet, when Sertorius spoke, with hast I fled,
To pay the duty of a Friend and Lover;
And felt a kind of ease in his Commands.
Ter.
Has the indulgent Gods then heard my pray'rs?
Lives he, secure of wounds from envious men?
Say, noble Cassius, and delight my sense.
Cass.
None worthy fear; the badges of his Fame,
Which mark'd him Hers; then took an Airy flight,
Swell'd with the Greatness, mesures out the Earth,
And makes the Heav'ns too little for her head.
Ter.
How has th'Ignoble passion froze my bloud;
And, from the height of joyes, hurl'd headlong down
Too forward Hope! Gods, is he wounded then?
His mind's so great, slighting the honor'd breach,
Death, like a Thief, may steal away his life.
27
Oh, Madam, doom me not the Harbinger
Of woes so killing, 'less within my self:
His Fate's beyond the reach of vulgar men;
Who suffer, meriting a kind belief,
But vanish at his Name: As when the Sun
Mounts up Olympus hill, the spangled Lights
Shrink in their Beams, and disappear, till Night
Calls forth her Ornaments.
Ter.
Let's hast; let's fly;
Add wings unto our steps: forget the name
Which breeds Impatience in a Lover's brest.
Cass.
(To the wide Region of the Air I speak:
Like Tantalus, see that which flies my tast,
And leaves me Tortur'd with the cruel thought.)
[Aside.
Ter.
Why stay we here, and not attend the Triumph?
Press to his sight, and use a Lover's hast.
Cass.
We, Madam, move within a diff'rent Sphere;
A Venus, you; and a dull Saturn, I:
Yet willingly, to meet a Friend like him.
Swift would the motion be; but all within
Is lost, in viewing of an object, hid
To vulgar eyes: but, to my Optics, plain
As Night from Day. (Her Innocence destroys,
Faster than thought can form a glimps of hope!)
Ter.
You speak a Dialect that's mystic, Cassius;
And show the mighty change from what you were:
For words confus'd betray an inward grief.
Now, by Sertorius, pity rules my brest;
And, did not expectation of his sight
Raise high my Soul, I should Conjure thee now
By the strict bonds of Friendship, to reveal
What works this change: for, Cassius, I perceive
That words imperfect habit in thy speech.
Sometimes, thy bloud flushes upon thy cheeks;
Seeming to speak, thou check'st the hasty sound,
Changest complexion to the palest hue.
Cass.
The Gods themselves may, from Divinity,
Unfold the Adamantine leaves of Fate;
But there the name of Cassius is imprest
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Shunning the Sight, sinks through the mystic Writ.
Each hour I languish, and my pain's confin'd
To th'Center of my Sense; Racks torture less:
Yet, such the will of Heav'n, that I must live,
Still view at distance all the Heav'n I wish,
Dumb to request a helping, pitying hand,
Whose very touch would, by a pow'r Divine,
Pass through it's virtue to a bleeding heart.
Ter.
What God hast thou offended, who should thus
Command Megæra to let loose a Snake?
But tell me, Cassius; when my Quintus coms,
From the Penates to the Sylvan croud,
Or from the height of Heav'n to th'depth of Hell,
Not one we'l leave unsought, or uninvok'd.
Cass.
Nor Gods, nor Men, did Cassius e're offend,
In Honor, or in Virtue: should I loose
The stubborn Reins which guide our human will,
I might have ease; but on it there attends
A greater plague; Death, which gives ease to all,
Will leave me restless in my Urn. But see!
The Lusitanians croud to wait his sight.
Now must this light of mine for darkness change.
Ter.
Such is the pow'r of Friendship, that I've lost
The splendid thought which brings Sertorius home.
[Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Sertorius | |