University of Virginia Library

SCENA I.

Horatius, Curiatius.
Curiatius.
Thus Rome hath fitly placed her esteeme,
she should have chosen otherwise unworthily;
this City proud in you and in your brothers,
hath found three warriours, which she doth preferre
before all others, and opposing to us
no other armes but yours, braveth all ours
with one sole house: we will believe that, seeing
all is committed to your hands, there is
no Romane besides Horace and his Sons:
This choice can fill three Families with Glory,
and consecrate their names to future ages:
Oh yes! the honour which your doth receive
by this choice, can immortalize all three;
and since with you my fortune and may flame
have made me place my Sister, chuse my wife,
that which I ought to be, and what I am
to you already, makes me take your part
as much as possibly I can: But sadly
another interest doth restraine my Joy,
and mingles bitterness amongst those sweets;
the war hath cast such a refulgent ray
upon your Valour, that I shake for Alba,
and foresee its misfortune; since you combat,
her ruine is assur'd; in making you
the choice, even destiny her selfe hath sworn it.
I see herein too plain her fatall projects,
and do already count my selfe your subject.

Horat.
So little reason have you to lament
for Alba, that Rome rather should be pitied,
seeing those she rejecteth, and the three
she names; alas! it is a fatall blindness
for her, in having so many brave Hero's
to chuse, and yet to take the worst; a thousand
of her faire Children, far more worthy of her
then we, could better have sustain'd her quarell:
But though this combat points me out a grave,
the Glory of this choice doth swell me up
with a just pride, my spirit doth receive
a masculine assurance by't, I dare
by vertue of it to hope much from my
small Valour, and what ere the projects be
of envious fortune, I do not account me.
it'h' number of your subjects: Rome hath too much
attributed to me; but my ravish'd soul
shall satisfie her expectation,
or lose its life; he that resolves to die,
or overcome, is seldome overcome;
this generous despair doth hardly perish:
but come what will, Rome shall be free, not subject
until my last gasp assure my defeat.

Curiat.
Alas! how much am I here to be pitied!
that which my Country will, my Amitie
forbids: Cruel extremities! to see
Alba enslaved, or her Victory
bought at the dear rate of a life so precious,
and the chief good whereto her wishes tend,
purchased at the price of your last sighs:
What prayers shall I form? what happinesse
expect? on every side I must shed tears;
on every side my desires are betrai'd.

Horat.
What! would you weep me dying for my Country?
Such a death for a generous heart hath charms;
the glory that attends it doth allow
no tears; and I should blesse my fortune, if
the State and Rome could lose lesse by my death.

Curiat.
How ever, Sir, permit your friends to fear it,
they onely in so fair a death as this
are to be weep'd, the glory ont's for you,
the losse for them: it maketh you immortal,
and rendreth them miserable; what is it
one loseth not in losing of a friend
so faithful! But I see Flavian approach,
he brings me here some news. Hath Alba yet
made choice of her three combatants?