University of Virginia Library

ACTUS III.

SCENA I.

Sabina.
My soul, we cannot stand indifferent,
one side 'tis requisite I take; I must
be wife unto Horatius, or sister
to Curiatius; cease we to divide
our fruitless cares, let us desire something,
and fear a little less; but which to take,
alas! I know not, in a chance so contrary;
it is a hard extremity to chuse
a husband or a brother for an enemy;
Nature or Love doth speake for each of them,
and by the laws of duty I am ty'd
unto them both: on their high sentiments
rather lets rule our own, be the wife of th'one,
and sister of the other both together,
let's looke upon their honour as a good
unparallell'd, let's imitate their constancy,
and let us feare no more; the death which threatens them
is such a faire death, that we should not be
afraid to heare the news o'nt; let's not call then
the destinies inhumane, let us think
upon the cause, and not upon the hands,
let us behold the conquerours as if
we had no other thought but of the glory
which all their house receiveth from their Victory,
without considering what blood is shed
to raise their vertue to that glorious hight,
let's make our interests of their Family,
in the one I am wife, in th'other daughter,
and hold of both by such strong obligations
that they cannot triumph but by my armes.
Fortune, whatever evils thy rigour sends me,
I have the means to derive joy from thence,
and to see now the combat without fear,
the dead without despaire, the conquerours
without confusion. Flattering illusion,
sweet and gross error, vaine indeavour of
my soul, impuissant light, whose false sparks take
a priviledge to dazle me! how little
thou last's, and how soon vainshest! much like
unto those lightnings which in the thick shades
thrust forth a sudden day, and afterward
renders the night more gloomy and obscure;
thou struck'st mine eyes but with a moments brightness
to overwhelme them with eternal night.
Thou too much flattered'st my punishment,
and Heaven offended at it, selleth me
this moment of refreshment very deare,
I feele my sad heart pierc'd with all the stroakes,
that now deprive me of a brother or
a husband; when I think upon their death,
what ever I propose, I think by what arme,
and not for what cause, nor can I behold
the conquererours in their illustrious ranke
but to consider at what bloods expense;
the house o'th' vanquish'd party onely touches
my soul, in one I'm daughter, wife in th'other,
and hold of both by such strong obligations,
that they cannot triumph but by my armes.
This is that peace then I so much desired!
Too favourable Gods, you heard my prayers!
what thunder-bolts dart you, when you are wronged,
when even your favours are so full of cruelties?
And in what manner punish you offence,
if thus you use the prayers of innocence?

SCENA II.

Sabina, Julia.
Sab.
Is it done, Julia? what news bring you me?
Is it a brothers or a husbands death?
Or hath the sad fate of their impious armes
of all the combatants made as many sacrifices,
and envying me the horrour which I had
o'th' conquerours, condemned me to tears
for all o them together?

Julia.
Know you not
what hath pass'd yet?

Sab.
How should I understand it?
know you not that Camllia and my self
are shut up in this house, as in a prison?
Julia, they fear our tears: we should without doubt
have interpos'd our selves between their armes,
and by the just despaires of a chast amity
we should have drawn some pity from both Camps.

Julia.
There was no need of such a tender spectacle,
their sight brought obstacle enough unto
their fight; assoon as they were ready to
measure their swords, both one, and th'other Camp
began to murmur, that persons so neer
ally'd, should sacrifice each others life
unto their Countries quarrel; one was mov'd
with pity, and another seiz'd with horrour,
some wonder'd at the madness of their zeal,
others extoll'd their vertue to the Heavens,
and some presum'd to name it sacrilegious
and brutish; all these diverse sentiments
had yet but one voice, every one accused
their Chiefs, all with a general consent
abhorr'd their choice, not able to endure
so barbarous a combat they cry'd out on't,
advaunced therupon, and parted them.

Sab.
Great Gods! what incense do I owe unto you
for hearing my devotions?

Jul.
Sabina,
you are not yet where you imagin now;
you may hope, you have less to fear: but yet
there doth remain unto you cause enough
wherewith to wail you. Vain was the indeavour
to free them from so sada fate, these generous,
or rather cruel combatants could not
consent unto 't; the glory of this choice
seemed so precious to them, and so much
charm'd their ambitious souls, that when they were
deplored, they esteemed themselves happy,
and tooke the pity that was shew'd unto them
for an affront: The trouble of both camps
seem'd unto them to sully their renown,
they rather would combat with both the armies,
and dye by the same hands that parted them,
then quit the honours were confer'd upon them.

Sab.
What? were those Iron hearts so obstinate?

Jul.
They were so, but the armies mutany'd,
and uttering their cryes both at one time,
demanded other combatants, or battaile.
Scarce was the presence of the Chiefs respected,
their power was doubtful, their words not attended:
the King himself was much astonish'd at it.
Since every one (said he) dislikes this discord,
let us consult the sacred Majesty
of the great Gods, and see we if this change
be pleasing to them: where's that impious soul
will dare oppose their will, when in a sacrifice,
they shall be pleas'd to manifest it to us?
He held his peace, and these words seemed charmes,
yea from six combatants snatch'd away their armes;
and this desire of honour which shut up
their eyes, though blind, respected yet the Gods:
their boiling heat submitted to the counsell
of Tullus; and were it by an appeale,
or by a ready scruple, in both armies
'twas made a law, as if they both acknowledg'd him
for King; the victimes death will shew the rest.

Sab.
The Gods will not allow an impious combat,
I hope well of it, since it is deferr'd,
and I begin to see what I desir'd.

SCENA III.

Sabina, Camilla. Julia.
Sab.
Sister, I'le tel you good news,

Cam.
I believe,
I know it, if we may but name it such;
I was in presence when 'twas told unto
my Father, but I gather nought from thence
that may asswage my grief; this intermission
of our misfortunes, will but make their stroaks
more rude; 'tis but a longer time allow'd
to our inquietudes, and all the comfort
that one may hope from thence, is onely this,
to lament those we love a little later.

Sab.
The Gods have not in vain inspir'd this tumult.

Cam.
Let's rather say, sister, that we consult them
in vain; the same Gods have inspir'd this choice
into the brest of Tullus; and the publick
is not always their voice; much less descend they
into such low receptacles, but in
the brest of Kings, their living Images,
whose absolute power is, and authority,
a secret ray of their divinity.

Jul.
It is to form you ostacles without reason,
to seeke their voices otherwise then in
their oracles, and you can't to your self
figure all lost, without belying that
was rendered to you yesterday.

Cam.
An Oracle
can ne'r be comprehended: for the more
we think to understand it, commonly
the less we understand it, farre from setling
on such a sentence; who sees nothing in't
obscure, ought to believe that all is so.

Sab.
Let us build more assurance upon that
which makes for us, and entertain the sweetness
of a just hope; when Heaven is favourable
halfe wayes to ope its armes, who doth not promise
some good thence to himself, deserves it not;
he oftentimes hindereth this favour from
shewing it self, and when it doth descend,
his cold refusall sendeth it away.

Cam.
Heaven acteth without us in these events,
and ordereth them not on our sentiments.

Jul.
He makes you not affraid but for your good.
Adiew, I goe to know what's done at last;
asswage your fears, hope at my return,
to entertain you, Ladies, with no other
discourse but love, and that we shall imploy
the end of this day to the sweet preparatives
of a blest marriage.

Sab.
I hope it also.

Cam.
And I dare not to dream on't.

Jul.
Th'effect will make it plaine t'y', which knows best
to judge thereof.

SCENA IIII.

Sabina, Camilla.
Sab.
In the midst of our sorrows, give me leave
to blame you: so much trouble in your soul
I can no way approve of; if you were
in my case, Sister, what would you do then!
if you had so much cause to fear as I,
and were to expect from their fatall armes
such ils as mine, and such unparallell'd losses?

Cam.
Speak more indifferently of your sufferings
and mine, every one sees those of another
not with the same eye that he sees his own;
but to look well on mine wherein heaven plungeth me,
your after them would seem t y' as a dream.
Horatius death is onely to be fear'd
by you, a brother's nothing to a husband;
the marriage that tyeth us unto
another family, untyeth us
from that wherein we lived maids; these knots
so different, are not to be compar'd;
we must leave Parents, Friends and all the world
to follow a deare husband. But if, Sister,
so neer unto a marriage, the Lover
which a glad farther gives, is less unto us
then husband, and not less then brother, surely
our sentiments between them do remain
suspended, our choice is impossible,
and our desires confounded. Thus you have
in your complaints where to direct your wishes,
and terminate your fears: but if heaven should
resolve to presecute us, for my part,
I must fear all things, and can hope for nothing.

Sab.
When one must dye, and by the others hand,
'tis but an ill dispute this which you make;
let the knots be as different as they will,
we must not leave our parents in oblivion;
although we leave them, Hymen doth not raze out
those deepe engraven characters; to love
a husband, we are not oblig'd to hate
our brothers; nature alwayes doth conserve
her first rights, when the death of either one
or other is propos'd, we cannot chuse,
they are as well unto us, as a husband,
our other selves, and all evils are alike
when that they are extreme: but happily
the Lover that doth charme you and for whom
you burn, is not so to you as you'd have him,
an evil humour, or a little zealousie,
may banish him your good opinion;
and put him quite out of your fantasie;
what they do often, do the same by reason,
and leave your blood out of comparison:
T'oppose voluntary bonds to those
whom birth hath rendred necessary, is
a crime indubitable: If heaven should resolve then
to persecute us, I have the most reason
to feare all fortunes, and despaire of all things;
but for your part, duty directeth you
in your complaints where to addresse your wishes,
and terminate your fears.

Cam.
Sister, I see
you never lov'd, you know not Love, nor felt
his darts: one may resist him in the birth,
but when he's grown, and become Master of us,
we cannot banish him, especially
when the consent of Father in engaging
our faith hath made this tyrant lawfull King.
He entereth with sweetness, but he raignes
by force; and when the soul hath tasted once
his sweet temptation, to love no more
is that it cannot do; since it cannot
desire but what he will, his chaines are for us
as strong as faire.

SCENA V.

The old Horatius, Sabina, Camilla.
Old Horat.
I come to bring unto you sorrowful news;
my daughters, but in vain I should conceale it you,
which could not but a little time be hidden;
your Brothers are in fight, the Gods ordain'd it.

Sab.
I must confess this news doth much astonish me,
I thought there was in the Divinities
much less injustice, and much more of goodness:
comfort us not, reason is troublesome
when it dares to oppose such a misfortune;
we have the end of our griefs in our hands,
who can resolve to dye, can brave disaster.
We easily could make, Sir, in your presence
a feigned constancy of our despaire;
but when one can without shame be without
resolved courage, 'tis a cowardise
to counterfeit it: the use of such art
we leave to men, and will not pass for that
but what we are: It is not our desire
that such a stout spirit should abase it self
by our example to complain of fortune;
receive these mortal tidings without trembling,
behold without mingling your own with them
our tears flow down our cheeks; lastly we crave
(as all the favour we desire in such
calamities,) that you will keepe your constancy,
and suffer our sad sighs.

The old Horat.
I am so farre
from blaming the tears which I see you shed,
that I can scarce defend me from their force,
and should perhaps yeild to such strong assaults,
if herein we had both like interest:
not that your Alba by her choice hath made me
to hate your brothers, all three are deare persons
yet unto me; but amity is not
of the same ranke, and hath not the effects
of love nor blood. I do not feele for them
the griefe that doth torment Sabina as
a Sister, and Camilla as a Lover;
I can behold them as our enemies,
and give without regret my prayers and wishes
unto my Sons; they are (thanks to the Gods)
worthy their Country; no astonishment
e'r perished their glory, and I saw
their honour increase highly when their courages
refus'd the pity of both campes. If they
by any weakness had desired it,
if their high vertue had not presently
refused it, my hand should have reveng'd me
upon them of the affront which their effeminate
consent had done me; but when in despight
of them they would have other combatants,
I'le not deny't, I joyn'd my prayers with yours;
if pitiful Heaven had hearkned to my voice,
Alba should be reduc'd to chuse anew,
we should see then the Horaces triumph
without seeing their hands stain'd with the blood
of the bold Curiatii, and upon
the event of a combat farre more reasonable
the honour of the Romane name would now
depend. The prudence of the Gods doth otherwise
dispose thereof, on their eternall order
my spirit doth repose, it armes it self
on this occasion with generosity,
and of the publick good makes its felicity.
Indeavour both of you to do as much,
to ease your griefs, and think that you are Romanes:
you are become so, you (Camllia) born such;
so glorious a title is a treasure;
a day, a day will come that Rome shall make
its glorious name fear'd like the thunderbolts
through the whole earth, and all the universe
shall shake under its lawes, it will become
th'ambition of Kings; for the Gods have promis'd
this glory unto our Æneas.

SCENA VI.

The old Horatius, Sabina, Camilla, Julia.
The old Horat.
Come you to tell us, Julia, the Victory?

Jul.
But rather, Sir, the fatall sad effects
of the fight Rome is subject unto Alba,
and your sons are defeated; two o'th' three
are dead, her husband onely doth remaine.

Old Horat.
O effect of a sad fight truely fatal!
Rome subject unto Alba, and my Son
to free her from it not imploy himselfe
unto the last gasp! No, this cannot be:
Julia, you are deceived. Rome's not subject,
or my Son's slaine.

Jul.
A thousand from our Ramparts
saw it as well as I: he made himself
adimir'd whil'st that his Brothers stood, but when
he saw himself alone against three adversaries,
ready to be encompassed by them;
he sav'd himself by flight.

Old Horat.
Would not our souldiers
dispatch the traitor! would they give this coward
retraite into their ranks?

Jul.
I had no heart
to see more after this defeat.

Cam.
O my Brothers!

Old Horat.
Soft, mourn them not all, two of them enjoy
a fortune that doth make their father proud
and jealous too; See that their tombe be cover'd
with the most noble flowers; the glory of
their death hath pay'd me for their loss: this happiness
hath followed their unconquer'd courage, that
they saw Rome free as long as they had life,
and would not have beheld her to obey
but her own Prince, nor to become the Province
of an adjacent State. Lament the other,
lament the irreparable affront
his shamefull flight imprinteth on our brow,
lament the foul dishonour that he casts
on all our race, and the eternal stain
he leaves unto the sometime glorious name
of the Horatii.

Jul.
What would you have him do, Sir, against three?

Old Horat.
What! I would have him dye: a brave dispaire
would have assisted him perhaps, had he
deferred his defeat a minute longer;
at least Rome would have been a little later
subjected; so would he have left my haire
with honour grey, and that were a reward
worthy his life. He is accomptable
unto his Country of all his blood,
every drope spared, perisheth his glory;
after this base bout every instant of
his life doth publish, with his own, my shame.
I'le breake the course of it, and my just anger,
'gainst an unworthy son using the rights
of father, shall make in his punishment
appear the glorious disacknowledgment
of such an action.

Sab.
Hearken somewhat less
unto these generous heats, and render us
not altogether miserable.

Old Horat.
Sabina,
your heart may easily be comforted,
hitherto our misfortunes touch you little,
you have no part yet in our miseries:
Heaven hath sav'd you your husband and your brothers,
if we are subject, 'tis unto your Country;
your brothers are the conquerous, although
we are betray'd; and seeing the high point
whereto their glory mounts, you little looke
upon our shame; but your too much affection
for that so infamous husband, will perswade you
to grieve as well as we ere it be long;
your tears in his behalfe are but weak guards:
I swear by the great Gods, the supreme powers,
that ere this day end, these my proper hands
shall wash off with his blood the stain from Rome.

Sab.
Let's follow him anger transporteth him.
Gods! shall we see nothing but such misfortunes?
must we feare greater still, and must our fates
alwayes proceed from friends and parents hates?