University of Virginia Library

SCEN. VI.

Terentia, to Sertorius, &c.
Sertorius runs to, and embraces her.
Sert.
More plesure Gods, you by this object give,
Than all the glories that I've won in fight!
To know I'm lov'd by thee, exceeds the joyes
Of bliss eternal. 'Twas to Heav'n thou pray'dst,
And the just Pow'rs could no denial make;
From the Olympic Mansions of the Sky,
Dropt down a Laurel to adorn my Fair.

Ter.
Let it find credit in Sertorius brest,
That in thy absence, as bereav'd of Soul,
My spirit hover'd round about thy head:
Still beg'd of Jove, in an Etherial sound,
To break the edge of every Sword, that bore
Death in it's point. Oh, my Sertorius! now,
If tongue can utter, or delight can form,
I feel an Extasy above all thought.

They seem to discourse with Cassius.
Perp.
to the Romans.
See how the poyson swells, my Roman Friends!
Do not their plaudits grow within his brest?
By Heav'n, we 'tend, like Slaves, upon this Tyrant,
Unworthy notice: while the vulgar croud
Shout up his name to Heav'n, and frighten Jove.