 | Horatius |  |
SCENA I.
The old Horatius, Camilla.Old Horat.
Ne'r speak unto me in the favour of
an infamous person, let him fly me as
the Brothers of his wife; to save a blood
that he esteemes so precious, he hath done
yet nothing, if he keep not from my sight.
Sabina may give order for't, or I
attest the soveraigne power of all the Gods.—
Cam.
Oh, father, take a sweeter sentiment,
you shall see Rome herself to use him otherwise,
and by what fate soe'r she be oppres'd,
t'excuse a vertue so o'r-charg'd with number.
Old Horat.
Romes Judgement herein makes but little for me,
Camilla, I'm a father, and I have
my rights apart. I am not ignorant
how the true vertue acts: there is no triumph
where number doth oppress, her masculine vigour
alwaies in the same point falls underneath
the force, but yeilds not to it. Peace, here comes
Valerius. What is his business with us?
| Horatius | |