University of Virginia Library

SCENA IV.

Camilla
sola.
Yes, I will make appear plainly unto him,
that a true Love can brave the Destinies,
and cannot take Lawes from those cruell Tyrants,
whom an injurious Star gives us for Parents.
Thou blam'st my grief, thou dar'st to name it base,
so much the more I lov't (unpitifull Father)
as the more it offends thee: by a just
indeavour I will make it equall to
the rigours of my fortune. Was there ever
seen any yet, whose rude traverses took
in so short time so many severall faces,
that was so often sweet, so often cruel,
and gave so many various stroaks before
the mortall stroak! Was ever seen a soul
more seis'd with joy and grief, with hope, and fear;
subjected (as a slave) to more events,
and made the pitious pastime of more changes!
An Oracle assures me, a Dream frights me,
Battel dismayes me, and Peace pleaseth me:
my Marriage is prepar'd, and in a moment
my Lover's chosen forth to fight my Brother.
The two Camps in a mutiny, disavow'd
such an unjust choice, they brake off the partie;
the Gods renew it; Rome seems vanquished,
and only of three Albans, Curiatius
hath not at all in my blood stain'd his hands.
Gods! did I not then feel too little grief
for Rome's misfortune, and two Brothers death?
Flatter'd I not my self too much, when I
thought I might love him yet without a crime,
and nourish some hope? His death scourgeth me
enough for that, and the inhumane manner
wherewith my terrified heart receiv'd
the news thereof: his Rival told it me,
and in my presence making the recital
of so sad a successe, upon his front
he wore an open joy; which griev'd my heart,
and made the publick good lesse then my losse:
So building in the air upon anothers
misfortune, he triumphed over him
like to my Brother. But this is not all,
'tis nothing unto that which doth remain;
In such a fatall stroak they ask my joy,
I must applaud the Conqueror's exploits,
and kisse a hand that pierceth my sad heart:
in so great and so just a cause of plaints
it is a shame to weep, a crime to sigh.
Their bruitish vertue would, that (in this case)
I should esteem me happy; so with them,
one must be barbarous to be generous.
But we'll degenerate (my Heart) from such
a vertuous Father; let us be unworthy
of such a generous Brother: 'Tis a glory
to passe for abject spirits, when bruitishnesse
is held the highest Vertue. My just Griefs,
break forth: to what end should I keep you in?
When one hath lost all, what's more to be fear'd?
Have no respect for this inhumane Conqueror:
Far from avoyding of him, come athwart him,
trouble his Victorie, provoke his anger,
and take (if possible) pleasure to displease him.
He comes, prepare we to shew constantly
what a kind Mistresse owes unto the death
of him she loves.