University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter Ætius in chains, from one of the dungeons, guards attending.
Æt.
[advancing to Hon.]
These are thy brother's gifts.
[shews his chains.
Couldst thou, Honoria,
Have e'er believ'd what now thy eyes behold?
A few short moments change the fate of Ætius:
At setting sun thou saw'st me crown'd with laurels,
And seest me, with the dawning day, in chains.

Hon.
Ætius, each mortal born must feel the force
Of Fortune's sway. Thou art not leader, first
To prove her fickle change. It rests with thee
To amend her late injustice: at my suit,
Cæsar forgets his wrath; he loves thee, Ætius,
Forgives the past, and claims thee for his friend.

Æt.
Can it be possible?

Hon.
Yes: Cæsar asks
This sole return; secure his future peace:
Disclose the secret plan of impious treason,
And thou art free. What less can Cæsar ask?

Æt.
Little indeed he seeks—He wills that Ætius
Accuse himself through fear: my innocence
Must be the sacrifice to raise his pride,
And make him seem more generous; well he knows
My loyal truth, and blushes thus to wrong me:
Hence would he wish to find me criminal,
Or see my death.

Hon.
Let not thy haughty spirit
Thus justify his anger: if thou art innocent,
With modest, calm demeanour, plead thy cause,
Take from him every power to find thee guilty,
Nor leave to Cæsar courage to condemn thee.

Æt.
I have not yet, Honoria, learnt such baseness
To save a wretched life.

Hon.
Thou runn'st on death.

Æt.
Then let me die: death is not sure the worst
Of human ills, which frees us from the converse
Of wicked men.

Hon.
Thou shouldst consider, Ætius,
Thou yet hast liv'd but little for thy country.

Æt.
We must not measure life by years, but deeds;
The base, Honoria, useless to mankind,
And worthless to themselves, who never felt
The godlike flame of glory, though they drag
An age of being, cannot boast they live.
But those, who tread the paths, which I have trod,
Though short their date of life have liv'd enough.

Hon.
If thy own safety cannot move thee, Ætius,
Think of my peace—

Æt.
What say'st thou?

Hon.
Yes—I love thee—
I can no more dissemble—when I fear
The loss of Ætius, I forget my wrongs,
And pride of rank but little guards my weakness.

Æt.
And is Honoria one that counsels Ætius
To learn humility? By such distinction
She but inflames his pride. O! could I bend
My soul to love, as I admire, thy virtue—
Then suffer me to die, the heart that feels
Another wound, would live to thee ungrateful.

Hon.
Live, though ingrate—take from me every hope,
Despise me still, be cruel still—but live:
Or if thou hatest life, as dear to me,
Yet seek a death more worthy of thy courage,
And die a conqueror, wielding glorious arms,
Envied, not pitied by the gazing world.

Æt.
In prison, or in battle, Ætius knows
To give a great example how to die:
Even here my fate shall kindle virtuous envy.

[Exit to the dungeon, guarded.
Hon.
Heavens! what undaunted courage! to the last
He meets his fate with triumph! how I tremble!