University of Virginia Library

SCENA I.

The old Horatius, Horatius.
Old Horat.
Let us withdraw our looks from that sad object,
to admire here the judgment of the Gods:
When glory puffs us up, they can confound
our pride; (our sweetest pleasures come not to us
without some sorrow) oftentimes they mingle
infirmities with our Vertues, and grant seldom
the entire honour of a glorious Action
to our ambition; I mourn not Camilla,
she was a criminal; I lament my self,
and thee too more then she: I for producing
unto the light a heart so little Roman,
thou for dishonouring by her death thy hand.
I find it not unjust, nor yet too quick;
but (Son) thou mightst have spar'd thy self the shame on't:
her crime, though great, and worthy death, were better
unpunished, then punish'd by thy arm.

Horat.
Dispose my fortune as you please; the laws
command it so: I thought I ow'd this stroak
unto the place that gave me my first being.
If my zeal to my Country seemeth criminall
unto you, if thereby I must receive
an everlasting staine, and by this action
my hand become disgraced and prophane,
you can with one sole word cut off my destinie.
Receive your blood again, whose purity
my basenesse hath unto so little purpose
defiled: My hand could not suffer crime
grow in our race; suffer you not a spot
in your own house: 'Tis in those actions
(wherewith honour is wounded) that a father,
such as you are, shewes himself interested.
His love must not appear, where all excuse
is null; himself takes part when he dissembles them:
and he makes small account of his own glory,
when he forbears to punish what he doth not
approve.

Old Horat.
He is not alwayes rigorous,
but spares his children often for himself;
his old age doth delight to lean upon them;
and punisheth them not, to th'end he may not
punish himself. I look upon thee with
another eye then thou behold'st thy self.
I know—But the King comes, I see his Guards.