 | The Fate of Capua |  |
ACT IV.
SCENE I. The Forum.
Junius with Citizens.Jun.
Let Capua sink under the Rods of Rome:
Her Axes hew your Branches to the stock,
The Lifeless trunk, never to sprout agen.
The Gods appointment always is the best,
But every way your ruine will be just.
1. Cit.
If all our Nobles are of your mind, what must become
of the City in a little time?
Jun.
It must become the injur'd Roman's spoil,
At the best, that, and you their faithless Slaves,
As you deserve, unworthy to be Friends.
Now, now the day of your account draws on.
The Roman Consuls come as Ministers
Of Wrath, and Terror to this guilty Town,
Arm'd with the kindled Justice of the Gods
Against your Crimes, with their avenging Bolts
From Heav'n, and the devouring Flames of Hell,
To burn, destroy, and ruine you, and yours.
They have invested you with Fire, and Sword.
Famine, and Pestilence will follow soon
In the starv'd rear, to seize, and fasten on
Those Wretches, who just scape the stroke of War.
You have variety of Misery
Before you, in this siege, to pick, and chuse
What Death you please, but think not to escape.
Your Hannibal has left you, with the Gods,
And all good Men, to sure perdition.
(Exit.
2. Cit.
A sorry comforter—
Of tother side; no friend of ours; no matter what
he says. He wishes it were worse, if possible.
3. Cit.
Nay, 'tis ev'n bad enough; and how 'twill be better
I don't know.
2. Cit.
We're in a miserable condition, that's the truth on't,
and which way to apply our selves for a remedy—
1. Cit.
Ay, that's the way, if we cou'd hit on't.
2. Cit.
Let's to the Forum,
There we shall find our fellow Citizens,
1. Cit.
We'll joyn with them, for something must be done.
(exeunt.
Junius Returns.
Jun.
What is't to me, my Country, Capua?
Who does maintain, or who deserts her Cause?
Favonia is the Province of my Care.
And her I have deserted, basely left,
How! basely! nay, abandon'd to the Rage,
It may be, of a jealous Husband too.
Ha! whether am I hurry'd by my Fears?
Had I foreseen but half the Accidents,
That threaten now, what wou'd I not have done?
I wou'd have snach'd her from his cruel Hands.
And may do still. I will declare my Love,
Clear her suspected Honour to the World,
Or justifie my Passion by Revenge.
(Exit.
SCENE changes to Pacuvius's House.
Enter Pacuvius and Servant.
Pac.
Let him dispose of her, as he thinks best:
It was a Task unnaturally impos'd,
And therefore willingly I lay it down.
Besides there is a publick Conflict here,
Within this Breast, admits not private Cares.
Say, have you sent to Vibius Virius,
And Marius Blosius?
Ser.
As you order'd, Sir.
Pac.
And what?
They will come home to you.
Pac.
'Tis well.
Let no body disturb me, till they come.
They sent no News?
Ser.
There's none worth sending, Sir.
Pac.
Worth sending! true, 'twill come it self too soon.
But we may boldly hear what we must feel.
'Tis natural to enquire how the World goes—
Ser.
Towards an end with us, 'tis to be fear'd,
And Capua, the Expedition is
Incredible, that carries on the Seige.
Pac.
We often ask, in Cases of Despair,
When we are sure the Answer cannot please.
Ser.
Hannibal try'd to raise it, but in vain:
And now 'tis said that he is march'd to Rome:
That way to draw the Consuls from our Walls,
To save their City, and defend themselves.
Pac.
Leave me, and bring in what Reports you hear.
(Exit the Servant.
We cannot answer for unborn Events:
The Gods have plac'd 'em in the Hands of Fate,
To Shape, and Fashion for their high Decrees;
At their appointed time, to bring 'em forth,
To baffle human Wit, and Industry.
Else in the Course of Probability;
And as Appearances presented things,
Rome was to fall, and Capua was to rise.
But Fate, it seems, has otherwise ordain'd.
There is a secret Power within the Scene
That works unseen, and makes so quick a oh
I cannot stand the Taunts of bad Success,
And therefore wonnot meet 'em in the crow
I have hitherto been on the winning side.
We have another Game of Fortune now,
And I will loose as little as I can.
I cannot make the Figure that I wou'd,
But need not make a bad one; that's in me;
If it grows worse, I know my Remedy.
(Exit.
A crowd of Citizens.
3. Cit.
No Tidings to comfort us?
4. Cit.
Sad Times, sad Times, and running on to be worse,
as fast as they can drive.
2. Cit.
Did ever People fall from such a Pinacle of Prosperity,
unto such a Gulph of Destruction, in so little a time?
3. Cit.
Never, never.
2. Cit.
Our Sallys did something at first to hinder their
Works, but to no purpose now, they'r beaten back upon
every Attempt, and dare not look the Romans in the Face.
3. Cit.
There's no peeping upon the Walls.
4. Cit.
The Engines play so thick, they'r about your
Ears before you'r aware of 'em.
3. Cit.
Not a Spade employ'd in the Trenches, but digs a
Capuan Grave.
4. Cit.
Wee'r in a sad Condition indeed.
1. Cit.
There's no Body to Command, but Bostar, and
Hanno, the Carthaginians, and how the Capuans obey them,
you may believe.
2. Cit.
The Garrison fights hard for us, to save themselves;
but they'll pay their Quarters before they leave us.
3. Cit.
They have brought us into the Crime, and wont
forsake us in the Punishment.
1. Cit.
Nay, they have done all they can for us with
Hannibal.
2. Cit.
And for themselves, for they must pay our Scores;
but what was that all?
1. Cit.
Why, they sent to him, to complain that he had
abandon'd the Town, and, as it were, yielded it up himself to
the Fury of the Romans; and withall beseeching him, that he
wou'd come to their Relief, who were not only Besieg'd, but
shut up in the Works, and almost in the Hands of the Enemy,
Upon which he came to look upon his Patients at
a distance, shook his Head in despair of our State, and went to
Rome for better Advice.
3. Cit.
He sent us his Reason for so doing.
2. Cit.
But the Consuls are here still, for all his Reason, and
the Prætor too; their Armies are not drawn off, as soon as Hannibal
march'd out of Capua, the Romans came upon us, you
know, as if they had hit the opportunity, they had been aiming
at so long; they did not come here to be drawn away by
every Motion of the Enemy.
4. Cit.
No, no, they wont leave us so.
2. Cit.
Therefore my Advice is, either to try what our
Despair can do, in making a bold push, or take the Benefit of
the Consuls Proclamation.
3. Cit.
What's that? What does the Proclamation say?
2. Cit.
It offers Life, and liberty to all those that surrender
themselves in four and twenty Hours.
3. Cit.
Why, ay, why don't we lay hold on the Proclamation?
4. Cit.
At least let's stay for an Answer from Hannibal. Some
Mauritanians have undertaken, in the Name of Deserters, to
get to him thro' the Roman Camp.
2. Cit.
And will be wise enough never to come back agen.
In the mean time, we stand like Condemn'd Men, with the
Halter about our Necks, but no body attempts any thing for
himself, or the Publick.
1. Cit.
What wou'd you have us do? The chief Citizens
have shut themselves up in their Houses, expecting their Ruine,
with the Destruction of their Country.
3. Cit.
The Nobles have deserted us, and the Care of the
Common-wealth.
2. Cit.
Why then, in the first place, let us go, and set Decius
Magius at Liberty.
Omn.
Agreed, agreed; 'twas luckily thought upon.
3. Cit.
He's a good Man, and a lover of his Country.
4. Cit.
And a Lover of the People.
1. Cit.
Nay, he never quarrell'd with us, but for our Faults,
when we deserv'd it.
If we had been govern'd by him, Friends—
2. Cit.
Let us clap him up at the Head of the Government.
3. Cit.
And his Enemies in his place.
4. Cit.
We can't do better.
1. Cit.
And then we'll go about the City to Summon the
Senate, and tell the Senators plainly what they must trust to;
that unless they assemble immediately to look after the Publick,
we'll set their Houses on Fire about their Ears, and begin
with them in the Ruin of Capua.
2. Cit.
We'll Sacrifice them to their Country, rather then
give up our Wives and Children to the Enemy.
3. Cit.
And so we'll tell 'em plainly.
4. Cit.
There's nothing else to be done.
1. Cit.
If we are to be Ruin'd, let it begin at our Betters?
2. Cit.
'Tis time enough for us, when it comes to our turn.
And I'll take my turn, tho' it be at the Gallows.
1. Cit.
Why, that's well said, there's something to be expected
from our honest endeavours. Therefore all hands to
Decius Magius.
(Exeunt.
SCENE Virginius's House.
Virginius enters with a Servant.
Vir.
You know the rest, tell her that I am here.
(Exit Servant.
SCENE opens and shews Favonia on the Ground.
Where are you? on the ground! it does become
The present Posture of your fall'n Estate,
Fallen from the highest pitch of Happiness,
Into the lowest depth of Misery.
Yet I will raise you; wou'd I cou'd restore you
To the admir'd height, in which you stood,
Of Fame, and Virtue; but it cannot be.
As well I may refix a new fall'n Star,
In his bright Orb, to light the World agen.
I come to visit you.
I thank you, Sir.
Vir.
I durst not trust you in a Father's Hand.
Fav.
I have no Friend.
Vir.
O! that the time shou'd come,
That you shou'd ever say you have no Friend,
When I am near you. Yes, you have a Friend,
A Friend you shou'd not have, no more of that.
I am to tell you what a Friend you've lost:
And then compute your Gains.
Fav.
I have lost all
That ever was of Value to my Peace.
Vir.
You have destroy'd all that was in your Pow'r:
And you well know your Pow'r to ruine me.
You've thrown away a Husband, and his Love,
That follow'd you, as Nature does her Works;
To nurse, and raise you to Perfection.
Had all the good things of this Earth been mine,
And mine the Pow'r to draw their Spirits off,
Into a Quintessence of Happiness,
I had bestow'd the precious Draught on you.
And in return.—
Fav.
O I could make you none,
To your Deserts.
Vir.
In barbarous Return,
You have reach'd out the Gall of Bitterness
To dash my Cup, and poyson all my Joys.
I cou'd have sweetned it with my Revenge,
Which I restrain'd. I held your Father's Hand,
Stretch'd out to take away your guilty Life.
For when I heard he had pronounc'd your Death,
And Sign'd the Execution, tho' I knew
You had deserv'd it of my Wrongs, and Me,
I cou'd not hold, but flew to your Relief.
And why? Is it because my Nature is
Insensible, and cannot feel a Wrong?
Stupid, and deadned to the Sense of Shame?
Or that I'm noted for my Easiness
In finding out Excuses to forgive?
Is that the Reason that I rescu'd you?
You know me better, no, Favonia, no,
'Twas Pity came into the Place of Rage.
But do not therefore think that I am fit,
For my Disgrace, because I pitty'd you.
Justice her self-Condemns with a Remorse,
And pitty's while she strikes, besides I thought,
That you, and you, who for so many Years
Had liv'd, as Friends, shou'd have a time to part.
Fav.
O Misery! that I must nothing say
In my Defence, to clear my Innocence,
Vir.
Hold, have a care, no more of Innocence,
Or a Defence, if you insist on that,
I shall break thro' the Temper I propos'd,
And then I cannot say where I shall end.
Fav.
Well, I have done.
Vir.
Not but you have an Advocate still here,
Within this Breast, and not to be remov'd,
That in Defiance of a Cause so foul,
So desperate, and so lost, will yet be heard.
But then it does pretend but to advise,
And warn me to be cautious what I do,
Well to consider what I undertake,
Pondring to weigh the heavy Consequence,
And not revenge my self upon my self.
As that's the case, unless I am resolv'd.
Never to want what I wou'd throw away.
And who can know his Resolution?
Who can be sure, that he is well enough
Acquainted with the Temper of his Heart.
To answer for its Proof and Constancy?
To know it's strength sufficient to support
So great a Loss, to bear a Loss, like yours?
The Loss of all, that ever I held dear.
A Loss, to beggar me, and all my Hopes.
These were the Thoughts that flew to your Relief,
And have preserv'd you for this Interview.
More terrible than Death it self to me.
Vir.
You cannot think I come to pardon you.
No, all that I endeavour, or can gain
Upon my Wrongs, is to disarm my Rage.
And let it pass among the strange Effects
Of that commanding Pow'r, you always had
Upon my Heart, that you are yet alive.
But I am still contriving my Revenge;
Still meditating how to punish you;
And I am in a way that pleases me:
It satisfies my Justice better too,
Than the Atonement of your spotted Blood.
(Exit.
Fav.
There is no Remedy, no way to save
My Innocence, but by accusing him,
Who always has been dearer than my Life.
It must be he, that cou'd pursue me there.
If he has scap'd with safety, I am pay'd,
Tho' 'tis a heavy loss of Life, and Fame.
Virginius returns with a Child in his Hand.
Vir.
Here is a little Innocent, that comes
To Mourn with you: Soon as she can speak plain,
She'll tell you, 'tis an undone Mothers Loss
Has brought her hither, to be Nurs'd in Tears.
Fav.
O! may she never know her Mothers Fate.
Vir.
Nor the Dishonour of her Father, but
Inheriting her Parents Infamy,
She must grow up with the Disgrace, and Shame.
Look on her well.
Fav.
My Eyes, and Heart are full of her.
Vir.
Look on her as it were to be the last,
The last, last look that you may ever have.
Fav.
This Object I wou'd wish to close my Eyes.
Vir.
You must remember how she has been bred,
The fondled Darling of our rival Loves.
Fav.
Who are to strive in fondness of her now?
Who to supply a tender Mothers Care?
O! that the Reason of my Love shou'd prove,
Shou'd ever prove the reason of my Hate!
How have I hung upon the little Lines
Of that dear Face, with a fond Father's Joy,
To find the Mother there in Minature,
By Natures Hand Copy'd in every Look!
I pray'd the God's she might resemble you,
And now abhor the Likeness I desir'd—
I cannot look upon her, but she brings
Her Mothers Crimes into my Memory—
When you are in your Grave, the sight of her
Will raise you from the Dead, to haunt my Peace,
To plague, and punish me, take her away.
I wonnot throw her out to Beggary,
But for your sake will never see her more.
Fav.
O miserable Woman! must I be
The Ruine of my Child!
(She snatches up the Child, the Women come about her to take the Child.
Vir.
Away with her.
Why am I not obey'd? Force her away.
Fav.
O let her stay but for a parting hour—
Vir.
No, not a Minute, not a Moments stay.
Fav.
To take a farewel Kiss.
Vir.
You've seen your last of her.
Now she has wound her self about your Heart,
Now she has hold of all the Strings of Life,
Now tear her thence—that you at last may feel
(Forcing the Child from her she falls on the Floor.
Some of the Tortures you prepar'd for me.
Fav.
The God's must give me Patience to support
What they inflict, this is a thousand Deaths.
Vir.
When I can entertain you at this rate,
I'll visit you agen, in the mean time
You know your Lodging, I must see you in.
You'll have sufficient leisure to reflect
Upon the Follies that have brought you here.
And therefore never shall appear agen,
But live forlorn, immur'd within these Walls.
Who's there?
(A Servant enters with a Dagger in one Hand, and a Bowl in t'other, and gives 'em to Virginius, who places 'em on a Table by Favonia.
I have your Father's Present yet to bring.
He sends a Dagger, and a poyson'd Draught,
In your Extremity to comfort you.
When you are weary of this Slavery:
You have that wretched choice to set you free.
(The Scene shuts upon Favonia, he goes off.
| The Fate of Capua | |