 | Sylla |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
a Garden.Octavia and Fulvia.
Octavia.
Death or Posthumius is my fix'd Resolve.
Fulvia.
This Obstinacy's vain; you must comply.
Force shall compel, what Kindness might bestow.
Octavia.
Where Death's unfear'd, to menace, is but vain.
SCENE II.
Octavia, Fulvia, Lentulus.Lentulus.
Madam! all's lost.
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Gods! where's Posthumius?
Tell me what has chanc'd.
Lentulus.
'Spite of my Tears and Pray'rs
He went, enrag'd, to find the Tyrant out,
And much I fear him by his Passion lost.
I met Metellus, pensive was his Mood,
The Tear stood trembling in his Stoic Eye.
Chrisogonus seem'd busy; what will ensue
'Tis hard to say: I fear'd, amidst these Uproars,
For your Posthumius, whom I could not find.
Octavia.
He's lost! the Measure of my Woes is full.
Lentulus.
If I might be permitted to advise,
You'd try yourself to soften Sylla's Heart;
But let me fetch Metellus to you first.
AIR.
You'd try yourself to soften Sylla's Heart;
But let me fetch Metellus to you first.
To save my Friend, I would my Life resign,
For her he loves, I'd die content;
Nor would I at the severing Stroke repine,
Could I awhile their Fates prevent.
[Exit Lentulus.
For her he loves, I'd die content;
Nor would I at the severing Stroke repine,
Could I awhile their Fates prevent.
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SCENE III.
Octavia, Fulvia.Fulvia.
We are too public here; let us retire,
And wait within the coming of Metellus.
[Exit Fulvia.
Octavia.
In this sad State I know not how to act.
AIR.
For bitter Grief like mine, what Cure?
If thro' his Love my Lord be lost;
Of Ease, in Death alone, I'm sure;
His Death to me my Life must cost;
Haste, Time, convey me to the Elysian Shore;
There, happy, we may meet, to part no more.
[Exit Octavia.
If thro' his Love my Lord be lost;
Of Ease, in Death alone, I'm sure;
His Death to me my Life must cost;
Haste, Time, convey me to the Elysian Shore;
There, happy, we may meet, to part no more.
SCENE IV.
Changes to Sylla's Closet.Sylla
solus.
When I reflect on what Metellus said,
I own him right; when I review my Actions,
And find how much my gen'rous Heart recedes
From Virtue's Track, I find I'm strangely alter'd;
And Sylla's Soul no more informs my Breast.
From this high Pitch of Glory I have reach'd,
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'Tis very hard, oh! Greatness! Glory! Pow'r!
To quit thee unconcern'd; but Beauty calls;
Beauty commands my future Vows, my Heart,
And my whole Happiness is center'd there.
Shall then Posthumius now engross my Wish?
Shall he possess the Mistress of my Soul?
One, by my Clemency, from Exile sav'd;
A Citizen obscure, who at the Bar
Harangu'd, while I, abroad, pursu'd the War;
Who gather'd, 'midst the gay Delights of Rome,—
The rich Reward I from my Conquests hop'd;
While I my Country's Battles bravely fought;
But—shall I revenge me on myself or Rome?
Shall she upbraid me thus?—Did I commit
My Pow'r to thee, and place thee at the Head
Of all my Vet'rans, to abuse the Trust;
Thus to oppose me, like the Rebel Sons
Whom you defeated? Less perfidious they;
To turn my Arms against myself, and risque
My Ruin: Are you the Roman Sylla?
Yes! I am Sylla! I will shew I am!
What! shall I be by future Times reproach'd,
My Country's Hatred, and the World's Contempt?
Shall Sylla's Name be cited with the Tarquins,
With Dionysius, and with Phalaris?
No! let me shew such Virtues as adorn'd
In her first Days the Liberty of Rome!
Is not Posthumius, whom I thus condemn,
Foe to false Glory, and to Grandeur vain,
A virtuous Man? Who but demands the Wife,
Which from him I inhumanly have forc'd?
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SCENE V.
Sylla, Chrisogonus.Sylla.
Know you if the Triumph be prepar'd?
Chrisogonus.
My Lord, it is.
Sylla.
And are the People and the Senate met?
Chrisogonus.
My Lord, they are! the Crowd was never greater,
A Sylla's Name is loudly echo'd round.
A Sylla's Name is loudly echo'd round.
Sylla.
AIR.
This the most glorious Day shall be,
That e'er my Life adorn'd,
And Rome and all the World shall see
How much I Glory scorn'd.
That e'er my Life adorn'd,
And Rome and all the World shall see
How much I Glory scorn'd.
Long shall the Day remember'd be,
As Men shall Heav'n adore,
Long as Rome's Sons continue free,
Till Time shall be no more.
As Men shall Heav'n adore,
Long as Rome's Sons continue free,
Till Time shall be no more.
[Exit with Chrisogonus.
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SCENE VI.
Octavia, Fulvia.Octavia
(impatiently.)
My Lord's—
Fulvia.
No more.
Octavia.
What's to be done? Good Heav'n!
To save my Lord, I come to seek my Foe,
And now the only time I would address him
He's absent;—Gods! 'tis my Posthumius!
SCENE VII.
Octavia, Fulvia, Posthumius (with a Dagger.)Posthumius.
How! my Octavia in the Tyrant's Palace!
And have I found thee once again, my Love?
Octavia.
But why that Instrument of Death?
Posthumius.
'Tis for Sylla.
T'avenge my Country, thee, the World, and me.
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I come to ask thy Life, or else my Death.
SCENE VIII.
Octavia, Fulvia, Posthumius, Metellus.Metellus.
Sylla demands you instant in the Forum.
Octavia.
Gods! what is your Decree?
Metellus.
Time presses! haste!
Octavia.
Perhaps, Posthumius, we for ever part.
AIR.
Oh! bless me with one fond Embrace,
Upon thy Bosom let me swear,
In losing you, I lose my Peace,
No other in my Heart can share.
And Death I would with Joy endure,
Could I, by Death, thy Life ensure.
Upon thy Bosom let me swear,
In losing you, I lose my Peace,
No other in my Heart can share.
And Death I would with Joy endure,
Could I, by Death, thy Life ensure.
[Exeunt.
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SCENE IX.
The Outside of a Temple; the Stage is filled with different Orders of the People. During the time of a Symphony being played, Sylla is brought forward in a Triumphal Car, richly adorn'd with the Spoils of his Victories, attended by all the Persons of the Drama: He descends, and comes forward.Sylla.
Now to the Gods we've paid the Homage due;
Ye conscript Sires, ye Citizens of Rome,
Be taught to know what Sylla truly is.
(to Posthumius.)
To you, Posthumius, I restore your Honours,
With her whom I ador'd, and whom you love.
I only ask your Friendship in return.
(to Chrisogonus.)
For you who basely have abused my Trust,
The Confidence which I repos'd in you,
Who have disgrac'd the Grandeur of my State,
And stain'd my Fame, I banish you from Rome.
To the Senate.
And now, ye reverend Fathers of the Senate,
You who confer'd the Powers I enjoy;
You Citizens, whom I have serv'd, be taught,
That if with Caius Marius I engag'd,
With Cinna and the factious Chiefs, who would
With bold Ambition have o'erturn'd the State,
'Twas to avenge what you sustain'd I fought:
If some I banish'd, 'twas to save the Empire,
Whose Peace their Combinations had destroy'd.
And lastly, if the Gods have given their Aid,
'Twas strongly to confirm your Liberties.
Ye conscript Sires, ye Citizens of Rome,
Be taught to know what Sylla truly is.
(to Posthumius.)
To you, Posthumius, I restore your Honours,
With her whom I ador'd, and whom you love.
I only ask your Friendship in return.
(to Chrisogonus.)
For you who basely have abused my Trust,
The Confidence which I repos'd in you,
Who have disgrac'd the Grandeur of my State,
And stain'd my Fame, I banish you from Rome.
To the Senate.
And now, ye reverend Fathers of the Senate,
You who confer'd the Powers I enjoy;
You Citizens, whom I have serv'd, be taught,
That if with Caius Marius I engag'd,
With Cinna and the factious Chiefs, who would
With bold Ambition have o'erturn'd the State,
'Twas to avenge what you sustain'd I fought:
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Whose Peace their Combinations had destroy'd.
And lastly, if the Gods have given their Aid,
'Twas strongly to confirm your Liberties.
While Rome demanded some intrepid Son,
To stem the Torrent of her Dangers, I stept forth,
And serv'd her with what Faithfulness I could.
The Cause no more, Peace calmly rules again;
The Laws are to their pristine Force restor'd:
Allow me then to quit that Pow'r supreme,
Which, as Dictator, you confer'd upon me.
To stem the Torrent of her Dangers, I stept forth,
And serv'd her with what Faithfulness I could.
The Cause no more, Peace calmly rules again;
The Laws are to their pristine Force restor'd:
Allow me then to quit that Pow'r supreme,
Which, as Dictator, you confer'd upon me.
Love, Grandeur, and the World, I now renounce;
To Wisdom I consign my future Hours:
Content in some Retirement to dwell,
Where I to Heav'n may offer up my Vows,
For the still prosp'rous Glories of the State,
That you be blest, and the Republic free.
To Wisdom I consign my future Hours:
Content in some Retirement to dwell,
Where I to Heav'n may offer up my Vows,
For the still prosp'rous Glories of the State,
That you be blest, and the Republic free.
Posthumius.
Unheard-of Greatness!
Octavia.
Happiness unhop'd!
Metellus.
A Conquest o'er one's self by far exceeds
All that from Broils and blood-stain'd Quarrels spring.
AIR (accompanied.)All that from Broils and blood-stain'd Quarrels spring.
To Sylla be due Honours giv'n,
First of the Roman State,
Who has immortaliz'd his Name,
His Victories made complete.
First of the Roman State,
Who has immortaliz'd his Name,
His Victories made complete.
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Let Sylla's mighty Name the Lyre engage,
Our boasted Freedom we from him derive,
His Virtue's live through each succeeding Age;
Long as yon golden Globe of Light survive.
This Conquest o'er himself more Lustre throws
On all his Acts, than Triumph o'er his Foes.
THE END.
| Sylla | |