 | Regulus |  |
SCENE II.
Corvus, Mutius, Quintus.
Thy Eye speaks Haste:—What Tidings bring'st thou, Quintus?
Quintus.
Such as must give Surprize to every Roman—
The Wife of Regulus has mov'd the Senate
With Tears of virtuous Sorrow; at her Instance,
They have a solemn Deputation sent;
Imploring him to stay in Terms so powerful,
That they have bent the Firmness of his Nature:—
And now, 'tis said, he will continue here.
Corvus.
By Hell 'tis false:—Say, Mutius, can it be?—
Gods, what a complicated Scene of Doubts
This Day has been to me!—It cannot be.
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Nay more, the Pontifex, to crown the whole,
Strengthens the Senate's Pray'r, and has declar'd
Him free to stay; and that he neither breaks
His Faith to Heav'n, nor Honour to Mankind,
If he refuses to return to Carthage:
See where he holds him earnest in Discourse—
This Way they move too—
Corvus.
Ha! I fear him now:—
Gods! what is all Appearance?—what the Truth
Of seeming Honesty and Patriot-Zeal,
When one short Hour can change the gaudy Scene,
Presenting the Reverse?—We must be speedy, Friends:
If he resolves to stay—he shall not long—
Death can remove him—I'll about the Means:—
Quintus.
See, now they part;—and Regulus appears
Eas'd of the Burthen of conflicting Doubt,
And satisfy'd at full.
Corvus.
What Crowd is that
Entring the Gate, that send their Shouts before 'em?
Quintus.
I cannot guess.
Corvus.
It is no Matter:—Mutius,
Do thou the necessary Means prepare
Of thy Departure hence—be speedy, Mutius;
E'er on the Dial's Plate, the posting Sun
Has measur'd half the Hour, repair to me,
And all Things shall be ready:—At the Gate,
That looks toward Carthage, will I wait thy coming—
Fail me not, Mutius.
Mutius.
I am gone:
| Regulus | |