 | The Tragedy of Sertorius |  |
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ACT I.
SCENE I.
SERTORIUS.Cease, you Celestial Pow'rs, and give that ease,
Which to obtain, I, with repeated Pray'rs,
The bloud of Hecatombs, and Incense smoke,
So oft have fill'd your Heav'ns; and bless the Man
Which, from his Infancy to Autumn years,
Subject to every blast, has known the Fate
Of greatness, or abjected Poverty.
Oh, Marius, through what paths Ambition led!
But thou'rt no more; and Hell has left behind
A Janus Fury, who, with Sword and Pen,
Or Stabs, or to enevitable Fate thrusts on,
Doom'd by Proscription, numbers to attend
On gastly Death: while Slaughter, big with blood,
In Sanguine hue, and a Tyrannick pace,
Sweeps, like a Plague; and makes Rome's Senate look
Like Sons of Earth, scap'd from Deucalion's flood.
Oh, when I call to mind Rome's base neglect,
Tho' with this light I bought their Suffrages,
Dam'd up for ever in the Marsian War;
When Parents, with distended arms, lift up
Their crying Infants, while the ag'd bestrid
The tops of Houses, fill'd the Heav'n with Shouts,
The plaudits of my Triumphs; yet gave way
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Deny'd the Tribuneship, and Exile made:
Yet, not content with miseries, they hurle
Repeated Plagues, and hunt me like a Beast.
Yet, Gods, be kind, and Sylla's brood shall know,
He that, with Patience, can endure like Me,
May weather out the Storm, and Victim make
The over-daring Fool, who hastes to meet
(In Pompey) certain Fate; or Knowledge bought
At dear expence. Down, you rebellious wrongs;
Incite me not to acts, that misbecome
A Roman mind to bear: Take flight, my Soul,
Into a Sphere like thy Essential make;
That I may scatter into open Air
The envious mischiefs which inviron me.
SCENE II.
Bebricius, Norbanus, Ligurius, Crassus, Decius; to Sertorius.Bebr.
Hail Noble Patriot of a happy State,
Blest in the Guardian! Lusitania owes,
As to the Gods, from undigested ways
Of Brutal living, unto nobler form'd,
Her Reformation. Why's obscur'd that brow?
What doubts can cause such gloomy fancies rise,
As in the hue of melancholy men?
Pensive with thought, thou shun'st Society.
Nor.
Know, brave Sertorius, that we all in thee
Wind up our Clue of life: as men devote,
To the Infernals, humane Sacrifice.
Thy breath, when form'd into a sound, is Law:
And not the dead shall, at the day of Doom
Call'd to appear, in mightier numbers rise,
Hudled to form from out their quiet Urns;
Than Lusitania, from her wide extents,
Crowd to attend Sertorius God-like call.
Lig.
Gods glory in thy make, thou man Divine,
True Similar to Rome's first Founder made;
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That's Great, or Good! Not Mars himself on Earth,
When Illion Field's Divinities were Arm'd
For Troy or Greece, wrought wonders with his Sword
Out-doing thine; which Fame as loudly speaks
To the Extreams o'th' Universe yet known:
Chose out by Fate, Elected by the Gods,
To free thy Country from Tyrannick Rule;
Tho' to the eye of Mortals Heav'n obscures
The mystick Writ, till Fate unloose the hours
Which guide the Day to Rome's delivery.
Nor.
Heav'n own'd thy birth; and pleas'd was mighty Jove,
When, in the Characters of Fate, he saw
A man so God-like, that should know the change
Of Earthly joys, as he of those Divine,
When Sons of Earth made War against his Heav'n,
And climb'd Olympus; else, in Infant years,
weigh'd down with Iron: Under Cœpio's charge,
When Chance unjustly Crown'd the painted Gauls,
Thou swam'st the Torrent of impetuous Rhine,
And liv'd to gain new glories by their spoil.
Crass.
Fame loudly speaks the Action of that Day,
When Celtiberians broke their solemn Vow,
And, in Castula, call'd the Gryseans in,
To Martyr Rome, in slaughter of her Sons;
As angry Pow'rs ruffle their Sky to Storms:
Here, Sun-shine; there, upon the Northern Pole,
Destroying Flames make big the Elements
With Fate inevitable: so did'st Thou;
When, in the height of their vain glorious hope,
With speed of Hurricanes thy Sword destroy'd;
Consum'd the Villains e're a thought could rise,
And pluck'd a Laurel from the Victor's brow.
Bebr.
'Mongst men, for deeds so great, we court thy Rule;
And glory in thee: nay, the Vulgar Crowd
Pay adoration to thy just desert;
And blaze aloud that Fate attends thy Sword,
Edg'd sure by Death: for, when thou heav'st thy arm,
So Plagues devast, as thou mak'st void the space;
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And Thunder with the Ratling of their Shields,
The frightned blood starts back into the heart,
And makes the Soul, with Terror, flye its Seat.
Sert.
If Gods have form'd me as you say; I live
Wholly devoted yours. The Roman name
Shall, with her Eagles, take a flight to you;
Pearch in your Temples; and a terror be
To Rome's ill Genij, which have ruin'd all:
That from the Ashes, like the Phœnix, may
Arise a greater, nobler Nation here.
Bebr.
Worthiest of men, when Sylla's bloody hands,
Embru'd in Slaughter, threatned Death and Fate;
When all the terrors froze us up with fear;
Thou sav'dst our Country, and dispers'd the Foe,
Did'st Acts beyond belief, secur'd us all:
And, with the Thunder of thy mighty deeds,
Scatter'd that storm which did obscure our day.
Now, safe in thee, we Sylla's pow'r defie;
Covet to Arm, when great Sertorius calls.
Sert.
Who would refuse to spend his dearest blood
When gratitude requires? Oh, Friends, I find
The deep impression which your loves have made;
Sole help to raise my Soul, with thought deprest.
Nor can I fear, thus circled by my Friends,
Vain glorious Sylla, who delights in blood:
Rapine, and Spoil, wait his Triumphant Car;
And, where he comes, like angry Fates, he breaks
Handfuls at once, not cuts 'em thread by thread.
Fearless of him, all others I despise;
And his new Pupil Pompey, big with threats:
His School-boy's rage, to call us on to Arms.
So the young Huntsmen, fearless of success,
Dart distant weapons 'gainst the dreadful Beast,
Till some barb'd Pile pierces his tawny side;
Lash'd by his tail to rage, he bellows out
Destruction, and lays waste the Armed Troop:
So rouz'd, so Arm'd, by our just Cause, we'll on.
We fight for Liberty, and for our Gods;
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Who all the Temples of the Graces shuts;
Vertue and Peace are strangers to their breasts:
For them we Fight, and they must Crown our Swords.
Bebr.
Noble Sertorius! Lusitania's Patron!
Sert.
Rome's Fame shall bow to you; no longer blest;
For all her Ornaments, her Arts, her all,
To Osca shall be led; the noble youth
There Educated in the Roman way;
So Habited, when riper years come on:
That, in the compass of an Age, the VVorld
Shall see Old Rome the shadow of this New.
[Sound of Trumpets.
SCENE III.
Tribunius, Crown'd with Laurel, attended with Aquinius bound, and Prisoners, &c.Trib.
Hail, great Sertorius; Hail, thou mighty man
VVhom Gods, in absence, fight for! thus adorn'd,
We greet thy Genius; and here offer up
These Laureate Wreaths, appropriate to thee.
Sert.
So Arm'd, so Crown'd, the Roman Senate fought,
When the rough Sabines did invade their Rule,
Trib.
Five Legions fell beneath our conqu'ring Swords,
Secur'd by Fate: Nor could Metellus help;
His rage was vain. So Surges dash to Air,
'Gainst Rocks opposing. Like the Giants fix'd,
We bore his Charge, and prest him fiercely on:
When brave Aquinius, to compleat the day,
Bedy'd in gore, compass'd with num'rous Foes,
Fell, with the number of his Wounds, our Captive
So angry Bores their Tushes whet in vain,
Fume oft, as oft assay'd, as did their Chiefs
When old Metellus sounded the Retreat:
And, e're the setting Sun adorn'd the East,
And on our Banners darted his bright Rayes,
Our Friends, immur'd for many months, were free:
Broke was the Roman Camp; and left behind
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Forsook by haste, as Trophies we have ta'ne.
Sert.
The Sword of Justice has a vast extent,
Is mov'd by Heav'n, and guided sure by Time,
Whose Sythe's not keener; there Astrea views
The Crimes of Earth, and pours her vengeance forth:
While the just Arms are Crown'd with Victory.
What can Aquinius say, to calm our rage?
Can Rome's ambition never quiet know?
Or must she restless as those Atoms be
Which the fierce Winds subject unto their Rule?
If so, by blood we must appease the slain;
And think our selves, as by the Gods, set forth
To kill this second Python of the World.
Aquin.
Curs'd be the man, that, to the Roman name,
Dares blemish Honour with the thought of fear:
I superate it; and, like Sylla, am
When most endanger'd, most a Roman Chief:
Bred in his Cause, and nourish'd in his Arms,
Fill'd with the glories of his mighty deeds,
He wan me to him. Let severest Fate
Speak loud her Doom; to hear I stand unmov'd:
For, if I fall, Sylla will 'venge my death;
The brave Metellus, or fierce Pompey, shall
Offer a Sacrifice to still my Ghost.
Sert.
Spoke like a Roman; gallantly and bold.
But that I scorn to soil my fame with blood,
Here thou should'st fall; then let thy Ghost complain
To barbarous Sylla for redress: Did he,
Sided by Pompey, fenc'd by old Metellus,
The two supporters of this lofty Oak,
Dare meet me face to face, and stand my Ire;
Like angry Jove, I'd rive him to the waist,
Spight of his Shields unto his heart convey
This fatal Steel. Haste; tell the Boy, I wait
To scourge his rashness. Let Metellus know,
If he dares meet us, he shall feel again
The Thunder of this arm upon his Cask:
And need a Shield of Vulcan's tempering,
To guard this deadly weapon from his heart.
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Where Death shall glut upon the bodies slain:
And all the Furies, gorg'd with Roman gore,
Grow fat with Slaughter, and press down the Earth
With humane weight. O that it were my Fate
To meet this Pompey, Rome's Anteus, now:
Like Hercules, I'd grasp him in my arms,
And make his Tyrant rue his forward heat!
Aquin.
Thou shalt be fought with, if not foil'd, Sertorius,
The chance of War may leave thee destitute,
And us adorn: then, in the brunt of Arms,
I'll court thy sight; and on thy Casket pay
A Roman thanks, for Liberty and Life.
Sert.
Guard well the last; for, by our Gods, I swear,
Or thee, or I, will measure out the ground
If e're we meet. Conduct him on the way,
Which gives a birth to Fate, and mighty deeds.
[Ex. Aquin.
But the Celestial Pow'rs have left their Heav'n,
And fill the Temples with their Deities:
'Tis Incense they expect, and Sacrifice.
You four Patricians shall attend on me,
Clad in the Garb of Numa's Pontifies,
While I officiate Maximus to Jove:
With heaps of Spice, we'll cloud the Altars round;
Seven Heifers offer, beautiful and young,
To Jupiter the Stayer. Hence, my Friends;
See all things ready for the Sacrifice.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Sertorius, Bebricius, remain.Bebr.
Yet melancholy! when both Gods and Men
Strive to out-vye in gifts? Stretch out thy arm,
Like angry Jove, to those who envy thee:
VVe'll be thy Elements, to execute.
Sert.
Thy loss, Terentia, does depress my Soul:
I grovel in the dark; and, when light comes,
Behold the falshood of my flatt'ring Stars.
Bebr.
VVhen Heav'n is kind, and pours his blessings down,
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Who knows, but Fate reserves this to the last,
To make invalid all the other gifts?
Distrust is worse than Death; and blinds the sense:
So Night, to the dull Phlegmatick, creates
The Aiery nothings which from Fancy rise;
But when the warring Senses rouze the Soul
To active heat, streight the Chimœra's fled:
Then let not thought, form'd from despair, give birth
To Beings far unworthy of your breast.
Enter a Souldier.
Sert.
What means this rudeness, in our privacy?
Sould.
Some Strangers new arriv'd do beg admittance.
Sert.
Conduct 'em in.
[Ex. Souldier.
SCENE V.
Cassius, to Sertorius and Bebricius.Cass.
Art thou Sertorious?
Sert.
Men do call me so. Art thou a Roman?
Cass.
View well my face; then judge.
Sert.
By Heav'n, 'tis Cassius!
That noble Roman, who appears to me
As the last remedy to dying men;
Or life, or death, attend as the effect.
When Rome, in Sylla, made me Exile; Thou,
In my necessity the only Friend,
I left as Guardian to my Life, my Soul;
Four Suns have past the Zodiack, since to me
They've blest this eye with my Terentia's sight:
Say, Cassius, lives she? or to blessed Shades,
Doom'd by the Gods to an untimely Fate,
Sh' has chang'd for Immortality? Yet hold!
[Cassius offers to speak.
Dead is the Fatal period of thy words:
Night is not more ally'd to Chaos, than
This dismal sound, if utter'd, is to Death.
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She lives, Sertorius: lives, to bless thy sight;
To banish into Air thy doubts and fears.
Sert.
I ask no other Heav'n, you Gods, than this;
For joys of Paradise, Elizium Shades,
Are Fictions to the real bliss she brings.
SCEN. VI.
Sertorius, Terentia, &c.
So breaks the Sun, from out the Artic Pole,
And with it Day, banishing Night from thence.
Ter.
And with it Day, banishing Night from thence.
My past misfortunes, whose obdurate Sence
Sat heavy here, now vanish at thy sight:
Long absence, wing'd by noblest Fire, sets on;
And the great extasy of flowing joys
Lethe past dangers with the present bliss.
Sert.
Thou all of excellence! how shall I pay
The mighty debt! for, by my life, I swear
The Sence of Seeing to the Center moves,
And makes a mutiny of thought, within
The Organ of my speech. Let me admire;
And by my Eye, which greedily delights
To meet each glance, judge of the pow'r of Love.
Ter.
Leave, my Sertorius, this Courtly Stile;
And, in such words with which thou won'st my brest,
Say I am welcom.
Sert.
Gods and Men, stand mute,
While, both to Heav'n and Earth, Sertorius owns
Life, Health, and Happiness, without thy sight
Dwindle to nought, and fill an Airy sound:
Not absent Gods, from their Etherial Thrones
Frightned by Typhon, did with greater joy
Again possess their Heav'n, than I my fair.
Ter.
No Musick of the Spheres could raise my Soul
Into a height like this. Gods, on my knees,
I offer up my pray'rs of Sacrifice;
Contemn the many dangers I have past:
Since, from those clouds which vail'd my happiness,
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Sert.
Heav'n has restor'd the Treasure which I sought
Given o're, as Shipwrack'd upon Sylla's Rock:
While prest with grief, beneath the mighty loss,
A happy moment makes me bless the Day,
In giving back the All that I admire;
For, by thy self, on thy fair hand I swear,
I would not change for a Celestial Seat.
Ter.
And by my life, wound up within thy Fate,
[They embrace.
The joys of Heav'n, Society of Gods,
Are not so charming as thy best-lov'd self.
Bebr.
Blest Lady, which to Lusitania brings
The peace our Country has so often sought,
So oft with piles of Incense fill'd the Air,
And with the pray'rs of Nations in the Cloud
Arriv'd, and gain'd acceptance from the Gods.
Sert.
Oh, Cassius, this noble man has spoke,
At once, her Virtue, and thy Worth. What man
Was ever blest like me, from Time and Chance,
Through the dark Labyrinths of mistic Fate,
To tast of joys like mine, and live? You Gods,
Allay the Extasy; which grows so fast,
That life, in motion, flags to keep its pace.
Ter.
I tread on Air; and view around the Days,
Which fleet, like Shadows, tho they harbor'd Death
Like Prophets, lightned by the Sacred fire,
Forget the giddy Chance, and to the God
In rapture celebrate the turns of Fate:
Thus, blest by Love, I fly into thy arms.
Where thy sight mesures, there's the blessed place;
And in that Circle joys of Heav'n are found.
Sert.
I am all Rapture; and will hence remove,
To pay the Tribute of an ardent Love;
Gaze on those eyes which do these joys create,
And view the charming object of my Fate:
Then, extasy'd, to greater bliss I'll fly;
Contemn the gaudy Mansions of the Sky,
And wrapt in thy embrace for ever lye.
[Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Sertorius | |