University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Roman Camp.
Enter Fulvia and her Women, a Song sung to her.
The SONG.

Ful.
Go bid the Musick cease, I find it vain.
Dark thoughts of late have my mind their haunt.
I thought to lay th'ill Spirits by sweet Sounds,
But 'twill not do, who's that Commander there?

Wom.
Lepidus, Madam.

Ful.
Oh! a gallant Man—
And one I love, because he loves the Consul.
Go call him hither, I wou'd speak with him.
Enter Lepidus.
Good morning, Lepidus, what news to day?

Lep.
Oh! Madam! joyful News! the gracious Gods
Have stoop'd to be our Pioneers to night,
And undermin'd the Carthaginian Wall;
Thrown to the ground no little part of it.
We have an open passage into Town,
And we'l accept the invitation.
The Consul will in person view the Breach,
Then order an Assault.

Ful.
Oh! Lepidus!
I taste no Joy in this.

Lep.
Good Madam, why?

Ful.
I am distemper'd with oppressing Fears,
Which deaden all delight to me—I've none
Even in my lov'd, my ador'd Regulus.

Lep.
How? none in Regulus?

Ful.
None even in him.
My Sorrow comes from him.

Lep.
What is his Fault?

Ful.
He has no Fault, from thence my Fears arise.
We always find, Men have a check by death,
When they approach near Gods in excellence.
If they will be ador'd, they must ascend,
And put off mortal Natures. Had he Faults,
To moderate my Bliss, and make it fit
For humane Creature, I shou'd have more hope.
But nothing mortal, must presume to reach
At perfect happiness, the lot of Heaven.

Lep.
You hunt out Griefs, as they were hard to find;
And study Arts how to perplex your self.
Consider, Madam, how belov'd he seems
By Fortune, how she fondly clings to him,
Caresses him with strange extravagance.
At his first landing here, she tore in two
This Empire, and gave him the fairest piece.
Now she has torn yon' Wall, as she were mad,
To have him nearer, faster in her Arms.
And the truth is, he has her now so fast,
She cannot if she wou'd break from him now.

Ful.
I know his Fortunes are like his Deserts.
In great Excess, but all Excess destroys.
Excessive Lustre, like excessive Heat,
Frail Man bears not. We very rarely find,
Men in intemp'rate Glories are long-liv'd.
Oh! he is near his end.

Lep.
Nay, this is strange!

Ful.
I must lament his death before he dies,
For when he's dead, I shall run mad with grief;
And the dear Man will fall unmourn'd by me.

Lep.
Misery deserves not sure this great Respect;
That you shou'd run to meet it e're it comes.

Ful.
You make me mad; have I more fear than you,
Or any in the Camp? did not this Morn
Spread Terrors through you all?

Lep.
Then have you heard?—

Ful.
I cou'd hear Thunder sure;
Thunder, which seem'd to burst the Firmament.
And I cou'd see the ruddy Face of Morn
Turn'd o' the sudden black; one wou'd ha' thought
The Night had wheel'd about, and strangled her.
Night ne're was clad in such thick woven Blacks,
As were of late, spread like a Funeral Pall
O're day, as day were dead.

Lep.
'Twas wonderful.

Ful.
Why d'ye abuse me then, and hide the truth,
As I were th'only Woman in your Camp?
The boldest of you all, was turn'd this Morn
To things, like heartless Women at the least.
And by a Woman too, by something less
The shadow of a Woman. I've heard all—

Lep.
I'm sorry for't.

Ful.
Day turn'd away its Face,
That a dead Beauty boldly might appear
In all the wretched nakedness of Death,
To the great Man, to whom she once was fair,
The Consul. Did not his late beautiful
Chaste modest Wife, the dead Apamin,
Appear to him this Morning in his Tent?
Ay, and to you, and many more great Officers
Assembled there.

Lep.
She did, if we dreamt not.

Ful.
Oh! you were far from such repose as sleep.
The Fantom whiter than the Shroud she wore
Dissolv'd you all into a thin cold dew,
You lay all vanishing beneath her eye,
Which brightly shone thro' the dim mists of death.
She was the firmest substance of you all,
Bating the Consul; he remain'd the same,
And was the only living person there;
Whom yet she seem'd to say, with speaking looks,
She pitied much, she pierc'd his eyes with hers,
As with their points she wou'd upon his Soul
Engrave her pitying thoughts.

Lep.
'Twas so indeed.
But they were much to blame who told you this,
And frightned you; I wou'd no more ha' don't
Than thrown a poyson'd Dart into your breast.

Ful.
VVhy should you hide from me what is my own?
I've in this dismal story too much share,
More than my understanding can dispose,
'Twill make me mad. Ah! may I lose my wits,
E're I lose him; that I may have no sence
When the Blow comes.

Lep.
VVhy do you think 'twill come?

Ful.
VVhat else should move the dead Apamia
To bear the light, which living beauties shun,
But to have him? Oh! that's her Errant here!

Lep.
I'll not presume to combat with your fear;
One will soon do it, who can conquer it,
He conquers all things, 'tis your Regulus,
Your griefs and fears have reach'd his ear and heart,
And he will come to ease your soul and his.
[Trumpets.
He's come; I see his Guards, I see himself.
I see your Father the Proconsul too.

Enter Regellus, Metellus, an Augur.
Reg.
Most beautiful reward of all my Labors,
In whose kind Love I am before hand paid,
And overpaid for all my Sword can do;
Permit me to be careful of my Treasure,
And lodge you safely in the Fort of Clypea.
The Enemy have met with some Recruits,
And make a shew of fighting us to day.
If fighting will oblige them, I will serve them.
Retire my Love from danger, for the sake
Of me and Rome, else I shall fight to day
Greatly disorder'd by my fears for you.

Ful.
I know the pleasure which you take in Glory.
That a brave Enemy who fights you well,
Does entertain you well. I would not dare
To call you from the Glory you pursue
VVith so much ardor, were I not compell'd
By many Thousand Omens and Presages,
VVhich seem to me the Messengers of Heaven.
I beg you for the sake of Rome and me,
You'll stay till some few threatning days are past.

Reg.
Stay till those days bring all the ills they threat,
Succor to Carthage, infamy to me.

Met.
To joyn in consort with a womans fears.
And beg a Consul to forsake his Post.
To please a Woman, and to cure her frights,
VVould not suit well with a Proconsuls voice:
Yet Consul for my Daughter this I'll say,
Her fears are all for you. She has no sence
Of her own dangers. I have seen her oft
In bloody Fields gaze on your Victories
With the same unconcern she'd see a Masque.
Yet I must counsel you to what she prays,
That you would let some frowning hours go by.
I do not second her, let her fear on,
It suits her Sex, and is a proof of Love,
I plead for one more excellent than she,
I mean Religion. I beseech you Sir,
Give her those rights which are her due by Law,
You know our Laws give her the casting Voice,
In all our Councils both of Peace and War,
No Roman dares start a great Enterprize
Till she has given the sign, and she has mark'd
This day for bad, by many a black Portent,
And charg'd you not to interfere with it,
Lest it should drop some horrors on your head;
As this learn'd Augur better can inform.

Aug.
'Tis true, Sir, all the flights of birds to day,
And all the entrails o' the victim'd Beasts
Threaten much ill.

Reg.
In reverence
To our own Laws, Augur, I reverence you.
You are our Scout to discern coming ills,
Our Spy on Heaven, and I'll be rul'd by you
When I am not otherwise advis'd by reason,
Which I think soars higher than birds can do,
And can discover more of Heaven's will.

[A Noise of a Storm.]
Lep.
Ha! all the Heavens are troubled once again.

Reg.
Let 'em be troubled.

Lep.
And it thunders loud.

[Thunder.]
Reg.
Well, let it thunder.

Met.
Would you take advice.

Reg.
Of Thunder? 'tis no Counsellor o' mine.

[The Ghost of Apamia rises.]
Lep.
Oh! Sir! I see another Counsellor.
Look there, in yon dark cave, so dark the night
Seems to skulk there in day to rob the day,
Apamia stands.

Reg.
Let her stand there, I see her.

Ful.
What d'ye see?

Reg.
Nothing, Love, you frighten Fulvia.

Ful.
I heard you name the dead Apamia,
What should make her leave Heaven, but for you?
She has some knowledge you are hasting to her,
And rushes through the bars of death to meet you.
But I've more right to you, than she has now,
Her death has cancell'd all your bonds to her.
But those you made to me are new and firm,
I'll keep my right, I will not let you go.

Reg.
Must I give such a fatal proof of Love,
To leap from Honor into wanton Ease,
And be no more a Consul? well I'll do't.
Consul and Shame suit not.
Now come my Dear, let us to private shades,
For darkness and dishonor best agree.
My noble Friends eternally farewel,
For after this I must not shew my face.
I pray conceal what has befallen me;
Report you saw me like great Romulus
Assum'd to Heaven, is not this a Heaven?
(Pointing to Fulvia.
'Tis like one, it resembles Fulvia,
'Tis not that warlike Virgin I confess,
But 'tis her Image; and my Love is such
To Fulvia's Image I will sacrifice
A Roman Consul.

Ful.
I will strive no more
Since 'tis your pleasure. Go; but I believe
After this fatal day we shall not meet,
Except in Fetters, or in Blood, or Death.

Met.
Something within my heart divines the same.

Reg.
Your fears are against reason, the Recruits
Come to the Enemy are few and heartless,
Dispirited, and cowed by fear of us,
And if we baffle them Carthage is lost;
At our next meeting Fortune shall be fetter'd,
And this short parting shall be all the Death
Your fears have boded.

Ful.
No, we will not part.

Reg.
Yes, you must to the Fort, I to the Field.

Ful.
I'll to the Field, so was I woo'd and won.
Your Battles were the Courtship of my Love.
And so will I return your glorious Love.
Nor Enemies, nor worlds shall part us long.
Stars shew your selves worthy to shine in Heaven
By guarding this great man, but if you must
Resign him up to death, (I shake to think of it)
If among all the doors Nature has made
To let us into death, I can find one,
My Ghost within few hours shall be with his.

Met.
Thou hast well vow'd, daughter, perform thy vow.

Reg.
Could we not meet elsewhere, there were enough
To make me rush on death, but our next meeting
Shall be attended with unequall'd Glory.

Ful.
Nay we'll be great and blest befal what will
We will so dye, if Death must be our doom,
We'll triumph o're all ages in our Tomb.

Ex.