 | The Tragedy of Sertorius |  |
SCEN. VI.
A Banquet. At it, Sertorius, Perpenna, Tribunius, Crassus, Decius, Ligurius, Norbanus, Bebricius, Attendants.Perp.
Such was the time, in the Lactean way,
When frightned Gods, by Sons of Earth besieg'd,
Sat there in Council with Immortal fear,
Till all the fainting Pow'rs, by Bacchus fir'd,
Forc'd Jove unto his Thunder: Here we sit,
While Pompey's Rams are storming at our walls;
Whose Blows are Harmony unto our Feast.
Sert.
It is, Perpenna, and a God-like sound,
Enough to sink the fearful into Earth;
But we, as seated on a Throne, behold
Ruin spread wide the Terror of its wings:
They, like Cambyses, rage against the wind,
Till weary'd with the object; then we hast,
Mounted on Death, give Reins unto the Sword,
And glut the Furies with whole Seas of Gore.
Perp.
When great Sertorius speaks, he should, like Jove,
Have Thunder ready; all the Elements
Ready to make a second Chaos stand;
And all the World, as dreading the fierce change,
Becom agast: But, viewing round, I see
The Cyclops wanting Bolts for such a work;
Nor has old Vulcan captiv'd Time, or yet
The fatal Sisters ta'ne 'em to their Sheers.
Bebr.
Ha! means he me, by Vulcan? captiv'd Time?
By Heav'n, my fears I find now are not vain.
How dares Perpenna thus abuse the Gods;
And in a language strange, unto a Friend,
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Yet mock'st his wanting Ministers of wrath?
Sert.
No more, Bebricius; he is hot with wine:
Give him his liberty; he is our Friend.
Perp.
Let not Sertorius doubt the proof of it.
Free men have Liberty; 'tis Slaves have Chains:
And well I know Quintus will ne're impose
Upon a Roman, what a Roman hates.
For Liberty, Sertorius knows, we've fought;
And we would do't again, knee-deep in bloud:
Let's see that Talker fight, instead of speak;
Let Oratory hang upon his Sword;
But, till the Field sets forth his mighty worth,
Confine that Gall which dwells upon his Tongue.
Sert.
It is unkind, Perpenna, thus to rate him;
He is a worthy man, and bears a Soul
Great, as the proudest Roman: I have seen
Wonders perform'd where er'e his Sword has com,
And death before the blow has made its way:
Such worthy actions in my Camp has don,
That nether Pompey, nor Metellus, can't
When he is nam'd but reverence the sound.
Perp.
Now, Romans, be you Judges of the change
So long I warn'd you of: See, see our Fates;
See all the merits that our wounds have got;
That now, when Pompey girts us in our walls,
He dares prefer this man the only Friend,
This gray-beard Villain, who contrives our fall,
That when the danger which invades is past,
'Tis he must Lord it o're our Liberties.
Trib.
Speak thou for me how much I loath a Chain.
[Stabs Sertorius.
Sert.
Ha! Sure 'twas deadly. Ho! my Guards, my Guards!
Perp.
Be not deluded with so false a hope;
There's not a Soul that dares but think relief.
Bebr.
Thou seest I've yet that strength within my arm
To turn thy Dagger's point upon thy self.
[Here Ligurius is Stab'd by Bebricius, who escapes.
There is no safety here: I'll hast away,
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[Exit.
Sert.
Oh, Barbarous Vaillains! Treason; help.
Perp.
'Tis here,
Sertorius, on this point: despair, and dy,
Thou base, ingrateful man: had'st thou surviv'd,
We'd been thy Slaves; but, thank our Swords, we're free.
Sert.
Yet I dye pleas'd, to know thy sudden Fate;
I see it now before me; view the man:
Pompey revenges me. I see these men,
That shame the name of Friend to that degree,
In so deplorable and lost a state;
That their own Souls begin to loath their make,
And curse the hour when first they saw Perpenna.
Oh, my Terensia! thy Prophetic fear
Is now accomplish'd. Oh, uncertain Chance,
How subtil are the paths that Greatness tread!
Which guides us on unto our certain Fate,
And never leaves us till our life is fled!
Perp.
Dy, Wizard. Think'st thou that I fear my Fate?
No; 'tis on thee I build the mighty frame,
And seem a Body second unto Atlas:
Thus grasp a Scepter, and thus rule my Stars;
Since, by thy death, our Liberty is gain'd.
Shout, till your voices burst the Clouds to Air;
That with the violence of meeting sounds,
The Globe grows giddy, and inconstant Fortune
No longer can command her fickle Wheel.
Shouts. Liberty, Freedom, Liberty!
| The Tragedy of Sertorius | |