University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Second.

Enter Trebellius and Lucilius different Ways.
Luc.
Hah! That Trebellius,—at the Sight of him
My Blood beats high within my angry Veins;
But I'll dissemble, and explore his Soul.
[Aside.
Well met, Trebellius, Fellow Soldier, why
Hovers this Cloud of Sadness on your Brow?
What! over-cloy'd with Happiness, my Friend?
Trebellius you have fought a glorious Battle,
And you are well rewarded for your Toils,
Semanthe, and the Mural Crown.

Tre.
Lucilius, Why
Envy you thus your Fellow Soldier's Praise,
That thirsty Avarice of Martial Men?
Which rightly weigh'd is but an empty Toy,
Vain as are Infant's Bubbles swell'd with Wind,
Which quickly lose their splended Gaiety,
And vanish into nought: But hath not Mars
Enlarg'd his Honours, the Rewards of War,
With equal Kindness on your self? But Love,
In that I own the Favour of my Stars;
To Morrow's Night shall bless me with a Bride,
With all that's exquisite, and worthy Hope,
Where Nature's utmost Beauties are compleat.

Luc.
But I'll prevent it. [Aside.]
Trebellius be advis'd,
There is a certain Bar between your Loves
Which may endanger both; observe me well,
Take this my friendly Caution, and desist.

Tre.
Prithee unfold the dark mysterious Sense
Thy Words contain, explain the secret Cause.

Luc.
I tell thee there is Danger in thy Love;
Ruin attends it, that's enough at once;
Another time I may inform thee farther.

Tre.
Lucilius, No; my Hopes are so confirm'd,
So strengthned in th'Expectance of my Joys,
That no light Terrors can alarm my Mind,
Or scatter through my Breast th'infectious Fear.

Luc.
Then you'll persist, and, obstinately rash,
Provoke your Ruin.

Tre.
Yes, I will on
In Spite of all the Dangers that impend;
And extasy'd in Love, I'll brave 'em all.

Luc.
Come, come, you must not, nay, you shall not, Sir.

Tre.
Farewel, Lucilius, when we next shall meet,
I hope this Fit of Madness will be cur'd.
[Exit Trebellius.

Luc.
Madness indeed! It makes Lucilius rave;
The fell Distraction glides through ev'ry Part:
Was it for him, this empty grov'ling Wretch,
My Honour slighted, and my Love refus'd?
But shall I patiently endure the Scoffs,
The Insults of a vaunting happy Rival?
Surely my Roman Spirit cannot brook
The foul Indignity: I must invent
Some Means for my Redress, and quickly too.
[Exit Lucilius.