 | Regulus |  |
17
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Corvus, Mutius, meeting.Corvus.
Mutius , what Tydings bring'st thou from Valerius?
Say, has he met the Tribunes?
Mutius.
I left him now
Conferring with them;—but they seem as cold,
And wear such distant Strangeness in their Looks,
As if they knew him not.
Corvus.
'Tis what I fear'd:—
The curs'd Return of Regulius has chang'd 'em:
That Man was born to be the Bane of Corvus,
To meet me at each Turn, unwind my Plots,
And baffle every Scheme:—but say, good Mutius,
How was his Coming relish'd by Valerius?
What said he to the News?
Mutius.
A deep Surprize
Dew'd all his Face, and fix'd his out-stretch'd Eye;
His Speech disjointed grew, his Action, wild:
But by Degrees the settled Fibres loosen'd,
Restoring his first Visage—then, reminding him
The Tribunes waited;—with a deep-fetch'd Sigh,
He cried, I fear his Coming will undo us!—
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He shook his Head, and with a wav'ring Shrug,
Irresolute and cold, went forth to meet them.
Corvus.
Ha! does he doubt? Nay, then I know my Course:—
Not to proceed with Warmth is to betray—
He shall be taken care of.
Mutius.
Yet his Friendship,
So known, and so approv'd, will keep him steddy.
Corvus.
Friendship?—I have too deeply read Mankind
To be amus'd with Friendship; 'tis a Name
Invented merely to betray Credulity:
'Tis Intercourse of Interests—not of Souls,
Betwixt the Wise; and when the Fool will deal,
He only purchases a Lot of Air,
Yet pays his Wife or Fortune for the Bargain.
To be amus'd with Friendship; 'tis a Name
Invented merely to betray Credulity:
'Tis Intercourse of Interests—not of Souls,
Betwixt the Wise; and when the Fool will deal,
He only purchases a Lot of Air,
Yet pays his Wife or Fortune for the Bargain.
I will this Instant see him—if he faulter—
His Life shall pay the Forfeit of his Fear,
And fix the Safety of our Cause: Good Mutius,
Here the Arrival wait of Regulus;
I will return with Speed—one Moment, seiz'd
By quick Advantage, over-rates an Age
Of Circumspection and deliberate Thought.
His Life shall pay the Forfeit of his Fear,
And fix the Safety of our Cause: Good Mutius,
Here the Arrival wait of Regulus;
I will return with Speed—one Moment, seiz'd
By quick Advantage, over-rates an Age
Of Circumspection and deliberate Thought.
SCENE II.
Mutius.Friendship but name—but an invented Cheat?
Where then is fix'd the Basis of our Cause,
If there be neither Trust nor Confidence?
Ha! where indeed?—I saw it not before—
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When our first Principle avows Destruction?
This calls for Thought—but I am interrupted—
[Retires.
SCENE III.
Decius, Clelia, Mutius.Decius.
Truth wou'd be deem'd a Fable, shou'd I speak
But half his Baseness: believe me, gentle Clelia,
(Tho' the beholding Thee was my best Wish)
Yet his ill-omen'd Presence damp'd the Meeting,
And pain'd the Pleasure.
Clelia.
His Pretence to me,
Was to inform me of my Father's coming;
Of thy Return and Safety:—These were Tydings
Must claim a Welcome from the Heart of Clelia.
Decius.
No more, my Love;—let us not waste the Moments,
For happier Subjects destin'd, on a Wretch:—
Look where his Agent stands—his black Accomplice:—
[Observing Mutius.
Do but observe the Face of Villany,
How different from the Brow of Innocence!
See what a settled Gloom obscures his Visage,
Sure Emblem of the Horror of his Breast,
Where his false Heart enthron'd in native Darkness
(Unconscious and unwishing for the Light)
Broods o'er new Treasons, and enjoys the Mischief.
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But look where Martia, where my Mother comes,
On Wings of Transport borne to meet her Regulus:
See how Affection swells to Extasy,
O'er-flowing at the Eyes—while every Motion
Speaks the unbounded Madness of her Joy,
And dresses Pleasure in Distraction's Garb.
SCENE IV.
Martia, Decius, Clelia, Mutius, Children, Attendants.Martia.
Quick, let me fly—where is my Regulus?—
My Lord—My Love?—O let no Roman Eye
Behold my Regulus, till I have seen him—
Till I have pour'd my Transports in his Bosom,
And all the Longings of a five Year's Absence—
An Absence, now o'er-paid—I now forget
My Mid-night Watchings, and my flowing Tears,
The Dew of every Morn; the constant Care
That wrung my Heart, and furrow'd up my Visage:—
All is forgot—my Regulus returns,
And Sorrow fades away—He comes, he comes,
Hark! the glad Crowds proclaim it to the Skies,
As if th'important News concern'd the Gods—
As sure it does—for what can Jove behold
With so much Pleasure, as a virtuous Man,
The Image of himself—O see—they come—
Decius.
Retire this Way—the circling Croud rolls on,
And in the Tumult of their mad'ning Joy,
Will over-bear ev'n you—this Way—good Martia,
[Retire.
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SCENE V.
Corvus, Mutius, Scaurus, &c.Corvus.
What! has he enter'd?
Mutius.
See he now approaches:—
Say, hast thou seen Valerius?
Corvus.
In right Time,
And fix'd his wav'ring Spirit—he is stedfast:
See—Regulus—let us at Distance mark him.
SCENE VI.
Regulus, Carthaginian Ambassadors, &c.Regulus.
Hail Rome and Romans! O thou much-lov'd Land!
Whose gentle Bosom bore my Infant Steps;
Accept this Tribute of my filial Love:
And thou, great Jove, if, with a jealous Eye,
Thou seest me pay such Reverence to this Earth,
Such almost Idol-Homage to my Country—
Sure 'tis a Crime the easiest to be pardon'd.
Martia.
I must have way—where is my Regulus?—
My Lord—my Life.—
Regulus.
O Martia! O my Wife!—
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Transport is always silent, and my Words
Are lost in more substantial Bliss—but thus—and thus—
Corvus.
Curse on his speechless Extasies!
Mutius.
Be silent.
Regulus.
At length 'tis past, and Transport gives some Way—
What shall I first demand, O gentle Martia!
Who have a thousand Questions of Importance
Waiting to be resolv'd?—But seeing thee
Answers them all, and I am more than happy.
Martia.
O 'tis an Age since I beheld thee last:
What hast thou felt?—and what has Martia suffer'd?—
Regulus.
No matter what; to bear our Good or Ill
With equal Temp'rance is a Roman Virtue:—
My Wife!—my Children!—thus to see ye here—
O! be the Omen lucky and propitious,
That first presents the Objects dearest to me,
And teaches me, thro' them—to love my Country.
With equal Temp'rance is a Roman Virtue:—
My Wife!—my Children!—thus to see ye here—
O! be the Omen lucky and propitious,
That first presents the Objects dearest to me,
And teaches me, thro' them—to love my Country.
See, Decius, see, thou noble-minded Roman!
Whose great—whose wondrous, unexampled Friendship
Disclaim'd the Charms of native Liberty;
And follow'd Regulus to share his Bondage:
Behold this Cause for unaccustom'd Joy,
And share it with thy Friend—ye righteous Gods!
A Wife so faithful, and a Friend so true,
What can be added—but my Country happy?—
Whose great—whose wondrous, unexampled Friendship
Disclaim'd the Charms of native Liberty;
And follow'd Regulus to share his Bondage:
Behold this Cause for unaccustom'd Joy,
And share it with thy Friend—ye righteous Gods!
A Wife so faithful, and a Friend so true,
What can be added—but my Country happy?—
Mutius.
Why stand'st thou musing? join the publick Joy,
And hail this Idol.
Corvus.
Thou instruct'st me, Mutius:
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Let Corvus pour his Gratulations too,
And find 'em welcome.
Regulus.
Frank Sincerity,
Tho' no invited Guest is free to all,
And brings his Welcome with him:—Such I hope
Thine, Corvus, is—I'm sure it ought to be:
They should not find Deceit, who never meant it.
Corvus.
Who do not mean Deceit, do not expect it:
And your Distinction furnishes a Doubt,
A Doubt of me—Can Regulus suppose—
Regulus.
No, he disclaims all Rashness: Well he knows
That Supposition still out-flies Discretion,
And by a giddy Swiftness loses Certainty:
That Supposition still out-flies Discretion,
And by a giddy Swiftness loses Certainty:
If thou art virtuous, let thy Actions speak it;
If not—we have seen Falshood—ev'n in Romans.
If not—we have seen Falshood—ev'n in Romans.
Corvus.
My Test of Honesty and Truth, be Tryal,
But, till I forfeit Honour, think I wear it;
Nor banish me thy Friendship—till unworthy.
Regulus.
Who lays a Claim to Regulus's Friendship,
Must first be Friend to Liberty and Rome:
The two firm Rocks on which all Friendships stand,
Are Love of Freedom, and our Country's Glory;
Piety, Valour, and paternal Love
Form the arising Pile: The other Virtues,
Candor, Beneficence, and moral Trust,
Are Super-structures, and adorn the Dome:
Must first be Friend to Liberty and Rome:
The two firm Rocks on which all Friendships stand,
Are Love of Freedom, and our Country's Glory;
Piety, Valour, and paternal Love
Form the arising Pile: The other Virtues,
Candor, Beneficence, and moral Trust,
Are Super-structures, and adorn the Dome:
Prove thyself Master of so fair a Mansion—
And thou art prov'd my Friend.
And thou art prov'd my Friend.
Corvus.
I hope I shall
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There let it rest—O Decius!—what is Man,
When the worst Heart can wear the Brow of Virtue,
And false Appearance smile us to Destruction?—
And yet, what is he not, when crown'd with Truth,
With every social Virtue that thou wear'st?—
Then, then, we taste the Rapture of the Gods:
SCENE VII.
Æmilius, Lictors, Regulus, &c.Æmilius.
May Jove, Protector of the Roman State,
Deck with his whitest Omens this blest Day,
That gives to Rome her long-lost Regulus.
Deck with his whitest Omens this blest Day,
That gives to Rome her long-lost Regulus.
Th'assembled Fathers of her awful Senate,
(Sharing the Joy that enters every Breast)
Have, to the Honour of obeying them,
Added the Pleasure of my greeting you;
And thus to Regulus they bid me say
Welcome to Rome and them; more welcome now,
Than when a Triumph crowded up her Gates,
And the loud Pæan sounded thro' whole Rome,
Hailing her Regulus, who fought and conquer'd.
(Sharing the Joy that enters every Breast)
Have, to the Honour of obeying them,
Added the Pleasure of my greeting you;
And thus to Regulus they bid me say
Welcome to Rome and them; more welcome now,
Than when a Triumph crowded up her Gates,
And the loud Pæan sounded thro' whole Rome,
Hailing her Regulus, who fought and conquer'd.
In a full Senate they expect his Presence;
And that he shou'd not pass the Streets of Rome
Less honour'd than when he beheld her last;
These Ensigns of the Dignity he wore,
These sure Preceders of the Consul's Steps
They will him to accept—and that he'd think 'em
Less meant to honour him—than prove Rome grateful.
So Speak the Fathers with united Voice.
And that he shou'd not pass the Streets of Rome
Less honour'd than when he beheld her last;
These Ensigns of the Dignity he wore,
These sure Preceders of the Consul's Steps
They will him to accept—and that he'd think 'em
Less meant to honour him—than prove Rome grateful.
So Speak the Fathers with united Voice.
Regulus.
The Speed of this high Honour of the Senate
So far out-runs the Prospect of Return,
That even Acknowledgment pants breathless after:
Yet good Æmilius, tell the conscript Fathers,
When Regulus last parted from these Walls,
He was Rome's Consul—not the Slave of Carthage:
These Ensigns, that were then his highest Honour,
Are now his worst Reproach:—To fight Æmilius,
In a just Cause, and for our Country's Glory,
Is the best Office of the best of Men;
And to decline it when those Motives urge,
Is Infamy beneath a Coward's Baseness:—'True,
I have fought, and conquer'd for my Country,
And in the Act of Service—paid myself:
But I have fought, and how—Zantippus knows,
Who, from Rome's Consul—led me Slave to Carthage:
Still glows the Brand upon my servile Front,
And while the Mark—or its Remembrance lives,
I am an Alien to such Pomp as this.
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That even Acknowledgment pants breathless after:
Yet good Æmilius, tell the conscript Fathers,
When Regulus last parted from these Walls,
He was Rome's Consul—not the Slave of Carthage:
These Ensigns, that were then his highest Honour,
Are now his worst Reproach:—To fight Æmilius,
In a just Cause, and for our Country's Glory,
Is the best Office of the best of Men;
And to decline it when those Motives urge,
Is Infamy beneath a Coward's Baseness:—'True,
I have fought, and conquer'd for my Country,
And in the Act of Service—paid myself:
But I have fought, and how—Zantippus knows,
Who, from Rome's Consul—led me Slave to Carthage:
Still glows the Brand upon my servile Front,
And while the Mark—or its Remembrance lives,
I am an Alien to such Pomp as this.
Say to th'assembled Fathers, that their Love
Has over-run their Justice; that these Lictors,
Who add true Honours to the Consul's Office,
Wou'd wrong themselves, and but disgrace a Slave.
Has over-run their Justice; that these Lictors,
Who add true Honours to the Consul's Office,
Wou'd wrong themselves, and but disgrace a Slave.
Æmilius.
Misfortune does not always wait on Vice;
Nor is Success the constant Guest of Virtue:
Perhaps the Gods more amiably design,
To shew the Hero struggling in the Toils
Of unforeseen, unmerited Distress;
The great Example beams Instruction forth,
And better serves the Purposes of Heav'n:
As such consider'd—thou art still the same,
As when Success had crested thy Renown,
And Valour rested on the Arm of Conquest.
Regulus.
When Purposes are weigh'd against Events,
Say can we promise Certainty or Truth?
What I am now—the meanest Roman knows,
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Let us not bar their great opposeless Wills,
By seeming more than they wou'd have us be:
So shall the Chain, that links Propriety,
Remain unbroken, and the Nerve of Hope
But brace Obedience to the Will of Heaven.
First Ambassador.
When this Man's Deeds shall reach Posterity,
Will they not want a Name to call 'em by?
Second Ambassador.
And for the Peace that Carthage hopes to gain;
Such I perceive his Sway, and Influence;—
'Tis not as Rome resolves—but Regulus.
Regulus.
Let us set forward—but without that Train—
Dismiss 'em, good Æmilius, or I stir not.
[Æmilius signs to the Lictors, who go off.
Dismiss 'em, good Æmilius, or I stir not.
Martia! My Wife! retire my best-belov'd,
And with our Houshold Gods attend my coming:
Thou know'st (and always hast approv'd it too)
That my first Duty waits upon my Country:
And with our Houshold Gods attend my coming:
Thou know'st (and always hast approv'd it too)
That my first Duty waits upon my Country:
The Lover's Ardor, the fond Parent's Care,
The Husband's soft Endearments strongly move;
But when the Welfare of our Country calls,
These Passions set—and the great Patriot shines.
The Husband's soft Endearments strongly move;
But when the Welfare of our Country calls,
These Passions set—and the great Patriot shines.
[Ex.
SCENE VIII.
Corvus, Mutius, Scaurus.Corvus.
Now, Mutius, we must work with both our Hands,
And fashion Business to suppos'd Events:
Say that this stern, this Virtue-clouded Man,
Repugnant to the Hopes of suing Carthage,
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Say too, that mindless of the Oath impos'd,
He shou'd determine to continue here;
And not return to Carthage?—Where are then
Our full-blown Hopes, our ripen'd Expectations?
How must we act?—If we are Friends to Carthage,
We must approve it by some bold Attempt,
Some noble Deed, where Danger wins Success:—
To be secure, we must be bloody, Mutius—
He must not live—at all Events—he must not:
If he returns to Carthage—then indeed
He will be well dispos'd of—if he stays—
(The Supposition shakes me)—no, 'tis fix'd
If he succeeds for Carthage, still he dies—
Rome cannot hold us both—Mutius, be near me—
I must be now indebted to thy Aid
Good Scaurus:
Scaurus.
I am wholly thine.
Corvus.
I know it:
Repair thou to his House and wait my Orders:
Thou art our chief, our Master-Instrument;—
We can but shake the Oak—'tis thou must fell him;
The Means are in thy Hands—
Scaurus.
Command my utmost
Corvus.
I thank thee, Scaurus—we must watch him close:
We shou'd not always wait the Throws of Nature:
We must be cruel sometimes to be kind,
And rip out Safety from the Womb of Time:
Propitious Fortune! aid this grand Event;
Lend thy Assistance—to this Birth be kind,
And thou, with me, shalt never more be blind.
The End of the Second ACT.
| Regulus | |