 | The Fall of Saguntum |  |
34
ACT III.
SCENE the Forum.Enter Eurydamas and Saguntines.
1st Sag.
Eurydamas , thy Country owes thee much,
For this thy watchful Care, and timely Notice
Of foul Designs against her.
2d Sag.
—We all thank thee.
3d Sag.
And should the Governor refuse us Justice,
We'll tear the Ensigns of his Office from him,
And to thy Hands, and his brave Son's, commit them.
Eur.
Their giddy Heat will ruin my whole Plot;
For 'tis not They must fix me in that Seat;
And Murrus still comes 'cross my best Designs.
(Aside.)
What mean ye, Friends, and whither do ye run,
Mistaking wide the Drift of my Discourse?
My slender Services ye far o'er-rate,
And rashly censure Noble Sicoris,
Your prudent, brave, and resolute Defender.
True, he is partial to our faithless Friends,
And, blindly honest, thinks the same of Fabius;
Who bears dissembled Love to his fair Daughter;
From whom when once we shall have stripp'd the Vizor,
You need not then to doubt his just Award:
But see, he comes; be bold in your Assertions,
And confident in your Demands.
Enter Sicoris, Theron and Murrus.
Sic.
—Whence comes it,
My Countrymen, that in tumultuous Sort,
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Doubling the Horrors of War's fearful Visage?
What are your Griefs? and whence your Discontent?
1st Sag.
Our Griefs are, like our Labours, numberless;
And ev'ry Morn, when we awake from Rest,
(If any Rest we can be said to have)
Sets a new Scene of Misery before us.
2d Sag.
How long must we expect these tardy Romans?
How long with eager Eyes in vain explore
The Sea, that ne'er shall whiten with their Sails?
Such is their Faith, their long-expected Aids!
Sic.
Why they have fail'd, the Gods can only tell;
Yet whither tend these Speeches of Reproach?
Is Liberty at last grown irksome to you?
Or would ye, 'cause they come not, yield the City?
Sag.
Curse on the Heart that harbours such a Thought!
We would not be betray'd by one amongst us;
Nor, like Amyclæ, perish by our Silence.
Sic.
Point out the Man, ye shall have ample Justice.
1st Sag.
The Roman Fabius, he, that inmate Traitor.
Sic.
His Name and Treachery but ill accord;
Yet speak, declare, what do you charge on him?
2d Sag.
That in Conjunction with the Captive Queen,
Whom thy too fond Opinion of his Truth
Has still permitted to remain with him,
He holds pernicious Councils to the State.
3d Sag.
And now has plotted, if nought worse they can,
To fly, and yield her to the Carthaginian.
Sic.
Empty Chimæra's, vain and idle Tales!
Fictions, irreconcileable to Reason!
Did not this Fabius, whom ye now implead,
Refuse to go in Embassy to Rome,
Our delegated Friend? Had he not then
Secure retreated without Stain of Honour;
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Which of you all has not beheld the Deeds,
That in our Country's Cause he has atchiev'd?
Misdoubting, thankless, base, ungrateful Men!
Eur.
By Heav'n, he staggers their irresolute Souls;
I must be quick, and reinforce their Clamour.
(Aside.)
What's this Ingratitude thou dost reproach us?
His Cause of Stay was but thy beauteous Daughter,
Whose Charms now slighted for the Amazonian,
In shameful League combin'd, their Flight he plots.
Sic.
Now Shame upon thy Tongue, Eurydamas!
This is thy Malice to a favour'd Rival,
The rankling Sore that festers in thy Breast;
Had'st thou believ'd what now thou dost aver,
The pleasing Truth had slept within thy Bosom.
Are these your Grounds, and his your Informations?
(turning to the People.)
1st Sag.
Be it sufficient, we believe it Truth;
Nor shall we leave without Redress the Place.
Mur.
And ye shall find it, Friends; my noble Father
Presides not but to do the injur'd Justice:
Lay your Demands before him without Fear.
2d Sag.
Let her be given Eurydamas to keep;
To him intrusted, we shall think her safe.
Mur.
Conclude it done, it is both just and fitting.
Sic.
How, Boy, dost thou prescribe thy Father Rules?
And to Sedition's Voice join thy Accord?
I'll teach thee better to behave to both,
Thy Parent and thy Country:—A Guard there.
Eur.
Talk not to us of Guards, we will protect him;
3d Sag.
Nor shall he suffer in the People's Cause.
Ther.
Murrus, without a Pause, implore his Pardon.
And thou, O Sicoris, forgive his Fault;
A Warmth, that flow'd from a too forward Zeal.
Excuse the Rashness of thy wretched People,
Who, suff'ring much, worn out with War and Famine,
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If blindly drawn, and artfully seduc'd
By some officious Villain's busy Tongue,
They have presum'd to descant on thy Conduct:
And you, my Countrymen, retract your Error:
With Eyes impartial view your noble Chief,
And recognize his Worth. Has he not been
More than your Governor, your common Parent?
Has he not pass'd in painful Watch the Night?
Consum'd the careful Day in Search of those,
Where soft Humanity might best be shewn?
For you still provident, careless for himself,
Each Day he marks with some distinguish'd Goodness.
And do ye thus return the gen'rous Labours?
Eur.
Now Cankers eat his Tongue: The meddling Priest!
See, how he talks them to their former Dotage.
(Aside.)
Ther.
'Tis Unanimity alone can give
Strength to our Cause, and to the City Safety.
Then hear what I propose: Will ye confide
In me, the Priest of Hercules your God?
Within the Temple let the Queen be lodg'd,
My self, and holy Brethren, for her Guard.
(They seem to confer.)
Eur.
Perdition seize him, I again am baffled;
I read it in their Looks, he has prevail'd.
1st Sag.
We are content; that granted we retire.
Ther.
What say'st thou, Sicoris?
Sic.
—Let it be so:
Theron, unto thy Charge we now commit her;
Convey the Royal Captive to the Temple;
My self will be the noble Roman's Surety.
[Ex. Sicoris, Murrus, Eurydamas and People.
Ther.
No trifling Labour will it be t'appease
The just Resentment that shall fire his Soul:
I wish, some other had th'unthankful Office.
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Fab.
Curtius, I thank thee for thy friendly Call;
When Honour is concern'd, Love must give place:
But see, the Forum void! Are my Accusers fled?
Cur.
They durst not stay to brave thy Innocence.
Ther.
Softly, my Friends; what is to Reason just,
Will not of Force convince an inflam'd People:
They see with others Eyes; nor will they trust,
When cunningly wrought up, their proper Senses.
They are retir'd indeed, but on Conditions
Such, as I fear, will grate thy gen'rous Soul.
Fab.
Oh, Theron! if I ever entertain'd
Th'abandon'd Thought of what I am accus'd,
May'st thou and all good Men renounce me here,
Nor in th'Elysian Fields my Soul know Rest!
Ther.
Needless to me are these thy Imprecations;
To me, not Innocence it self is clearer;
Thy Name as white as is the new-fall'n Snow.
Yet, what I have in Charge permit me tell;
In forc'd Compliance to the People's Clamour,
(Who by no other Means might be appeas'd,)
By me, thy Captive Sicoris requires:
From thee, ungrateful Task, I must remove,
And in the Temple of Alcides place her.
Fab.
Too easy Sicoris! Unthankful People!
My Soul is touch'd in her most tender Part,
My Honour injur'd beyond Reparation;
Unheard, unprov'd, thus to be deem'd a Villain!
In all the Shapes Ingratitude appears,
Her most detested Form is vile Suspicion.
Ther.
Chafe not thy self about the Rabble's Censure;
They blame, or praise, but as one leads the other:
Unthinking Souls! that when consider'd singly,
How few we find deserve the Name of Man;
Yet in Conjunction grow they formidable,
And hence from Sicoris have this extorted.
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Since to thy Charge the Queen shall be intrusted,
With less Regret I yield her from my Care;
Yet does my swelling Heart refuse the Office:
Curtius, go thou, and spare thy Friend the Shame.
[Exeunt Theron and Curtius.
To the good Man I smother'd my Resentment,
Which, at a proper Time, they dear shall rue.
Enter Murrus.
But Murrus comes, and on his angry Brow,
Like a black Storm, sits low'ring Discontent.
He sees, but would avoid me. What, ho! Murrus.
Mur.
See, I return: What wouldst thou with me, Roman?
Fab.
Thou call'st me, Roman; such indeed I am,
And much I glory in that Appellation;
Yet, for I know thou mean'st it in Reproach,
I well cou'd wish thee to forget my Country,
Since 'tis with friendly Meaning I accost thee.
Mur.
Forget thy Country!—would I ne'er had known it,
Nor seen in thee a Pattern of her Falshood:
Thou who, thus trusted, lodg'd within our Bosoms,
Could'st poorly meditate inglorious Flight,
And with thee bear away our noblest Captive.
Fab.
Thou do'st not in thy Heart thus think of Fabius;
These harsh Expressions flow but from thy Tongue,
The hasty Sallies of mistaken Passion;
Thy Bosom must acquit me of the Slander:
Too well thou know'st the Love I bear thy Sister,
But 'tis Candace's ill-plac'd Flame that galls thee.
Why do'st thou frown? Love is not in our Power;
Nay, what seems stranger, is not in our Choice:
We only love, where Fate ordains we should,
And, blindly fond, oft slight superior Merit.
Since this the Case, let not her fruitless Passion
Estrange thy Heart from one who seeks thy Friendship;
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The gallant Youth, and dear Timandra's Brother.
Mur.
Would that Timandra heard thy nice Discussion
On that soft Passion; she, be sure, would thank thee;
Think her self much indebted to kind Fate,
To whose sole Influence thy Love is due.
Fab.
Unkindly urg'd; I thought not of my self,
Or, what's much dearer than my self, Timandra.
Oh! she's all Tenderness and gentle Joy,
The smiling Loves play hov'ring round her Lips,
And Grace ineffable adorns her Eyes:
If she then, thus bedeck'd with all that Nature
Could lavish on her with a Hand profuse,
Can think of Fabius, and his little Merit,
I well might say 'twas Fate that made me happy;
Yet is there wanting to confirm that Bliss,
Did not th'unhappy Siege forbid my Joys,
Thy kind Consent, which still in vain I court;
Thy noble Brother, Peace be to his Shade!
Was Fabius' Friend, and further'd still my Love;
Be thou like him, or tell me why thou art not.
Mur.
Already thou must know we had two Mothers,
Rutulian his, and mine of Grecian Extract,
Nearly related to Eurydamas;
And if thou wert not, what I scorn, a Roman,
Should for that Reason wish my Sister his.
Fab.
Yet whence this Scorn? and wherefore, tho' a Roman,
Am I not worthy of thy Sister's Arms?
Do not Rome's Glories fill th'admiring World,
Or does the Grecian Name outrival hers?
Grant, that my Country should have been to blame,
(Yet sure the Day shall come to clear that Crime)
Speak with impartial Voice, and then declare,
If, howsoe'er by thee preferr'd, my Rival
Has in Saguntum's Cause done more than I?
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Thou seem'st to vaunt thee in thy martial Deeds:
Yet what are these, that any brave Saguntine
Should from thy Sword claim but the Second Place
In Honour's List? By me Hiempsal fell;
Who with bold Feet durst tread the dang'rous Sands,
And from the raging Seas snatch back their Spoils.
By me fell Chermes, Masulus, and Atyr,
Who of his Poyson could disarm the Serpent,
And, touching, charm to sleep the baneful Adder.
Then Kartalo, that, with intrepid Hand,
Would soothing stroke the pregnant Lioness.
All Lybian Chiefs, and such their savage Virtues!
Nor could, superior to all these, Hiarbas
Escape my Sword, tho' sprung from mighty Jove:
While now thou gloriest in his Daughter's Chains,
In shameful Conquest, ignominious Triumph.
Fab.
What I have done, becomes not me to say;
And with ill Grace thy Tongue declares thy Deeds:
Yet tell me, Murrus, did the Shame of Conquest
Over an Amazon, whose fatal Arm
Had then laid weltring in his Blood thy Brother,
Forbid thy Vengeance, and restrain thy Sword?
Oh, Honour nicely weigh'd! Fraternal Love!
Was it for this the shameful Part was left
To me? Who led her Captive from the Field;
Which thou disdaining, kept'st thy self aloof.
Mur.
She saw thee Roman, and she deem'd thee false:
Yielding to thee, she hop'd a safer Flight,
Which from thy Treach'ry she might soon expect;
And that she thought aright, th'Event has prov'd.
Fab.
How has it prov'd? Is to asperse, to prove?
Sad then should be the State of Innocence.
Shall bare Assertion have the Force of Truth,
And weigh the Tenor of our Actions down?
No, 'tis from them, when other Proof is wanting,
That Men should form their apt and surer Judgments.
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From mine, thy Father thinks me, as I am,
Thy Country's Friend, and her no small Support.
Mur.
Thou her Support! insufferable Pride!
Oh Arrogance unmatch'd! What then am I?
What is Eurydamas, or Valiant Theron?
That we should yield the foremost Rank in War?
By Heav'n, my Soul now kindles as for Battel,
And my big Heart beats thick with Indignation.
No more I charge thee, on thy Life, no more.
Fab.
I smile, believe me, at this causeless Heat;
True Courage is not, where fermenting Spirits
Mount in a troubled and unruly Stream;
The Soul's its proper Seat; and Reason there
Presiding, guides its cool or warmer Motions:
Thy idle Rage, that like a cover'd Fire,
The Embers rak'd, mounts up in crackling Sparks,
I heed no more, than Heav'n those fiery Bubbles.
Mur.
'Tis well. Now shew this Grandeur of thy Soul;
And let thy Arm, not Words, rebuke that Rage,
Which seems so idle to thy reas'ning Valour:
Here on this Spot it quickly shall be seen,
If thy supporting Sword can save its Master,
(Draws.)
Fab.
Thy Prowess well I know, as thou dost mine;
Better employ'd against the common Foe:
Then, Murrus, sheath again in Peace thy Weapon;
If not for thine, yet for thy Country's Sake.
Just would her Exclamations prove on Fabius,
If in domestick Broil, howe'er provok'd,
My Sword should rob her of so brave a Son.
Mur.
I soon will ease thee of that needless Fear;
Draw; if I fall, my Country shall acquit thee.
Fab.
Still I am calm. Is not the dear Timandra—
Mur.
Her Country's Shame for doating on a Roman;
That abject Thought imbitters more my Rage:
Nor will I dally thus one Moment longer.
Defend thy self.—
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—Nay, then—
(Fight.)
Enter Eurydamas.
Eur.
—What do I see?
If both, or either falls, it suits my Purpose;
I will withdraw.
Enter Curtius.
Cur.
—How now! Retiring, Villain?—
'Tis thou hast blown this Fire; then take thy Share.
Enter Theron, as they engage.
Ther.
I think some Fury has possess'd your Bosoms.
Is this a Time for Civil Feud and Discord?
[Beats down the Swords of the two latter, while Fabius disarms Murrus.
Fab.
Now better learn to use thy Tongue or Sword;
And owe thy Life, to what thou scorn'st, a Roman.
Mur.
Curse on my Fate, curse on my feeble Arm,
Unfaithful Minister to a daring Soul;
Poorly thou hast betray'd my former Name,
And in a Moment sully'd all its Glories.
Ther.
Calm thy self, Murrus; 'tis the Soldier's Lot
To meet the Frowns, as well as Smiles of Fortune;
In private Combat, as in War, uncertain.
Where is the Heroe, who ne'er found his Equal?
Or which the Nation, that can boast a Chief,
Who still return'd victorious from the Field?
Such was not Pyrrhus; such our mighty Foe,
Not even Hannibal himself shall prove.
What Consolation Fate allows foil'd Virtue,
Is to receive that Foil from noble Hands:
But what, Eurydamas, shall I say for thee,
Thou base Fomenter of unnat'ral Jars?
Eur.
For me—Speak for thy self, injurious Priest;
Nor blacken others, till thy self art clear:
Reform the Manners of thy Libertine Tribe,
Cleanse the Augean Stable of thy Breast,
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And in these Labours imitate thy God.
Ther.
When such as thou revile the holy Order,
The best of Answers is a noble Scorn.
Thus Village Curs howl at the silent Moon,
While she serenely glides unclouded on.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
The Governor has sent to seek thee, Theron;
Our Watchmen from the Towers descry the Foe
In Ranks embattel'd, marching towards the City.
Ther.
Entring, of this I heard; now judge thee, Murrus,
Of thy intemp'rate Warmth at such a Juncture:
Let this at least unite our Hands and Hearts,
And pour redoubled Vengeance on our Foes.
[Exeunt Theron, Murrus and Eurydamas.
Cur.
Why do'st thou loiter thus, my Friend, to arm?
Not so was used to be thy martial Ardor.
Fab.
Is there a Cause? and do'st thou ask it, Curtius?
The base Suspicion of my injur'd Virtue,
The Rights of War infring'd in my fair Captive,
Might well inform thee of my Soul's Resolves.
No more my Sword for this Ungrateful People
Shall be imbrued in Carthaginian Blood:
Let her own Heroes now defend her Walls,
And Murrus shew the little Worth of Fabius.
Cur.
The Thought is just, and worthy of thy self;
Then, when they smart, shall they regret thy Wrongs,
While the fierce Foe pursues them o'er the Plain,
And hangs insulting on their broken Rear:
A late, but sure Repentance then shall find them;
While from the Battlements thou seest the Rout,
Confusion, Horror, and their foul Dismay.
Thus wrong'd Pelides, while the Greeks in vain
With Pray'rs and Presents would his Aid regain,
So fell his Anger, and Revenge so sweet,
With gloomy Joy saw Hector fire the Fleet.
[Exeunt.
The End of the Third Act.
| The Fall of Saguntum | |