University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Regulus, Martia, Clelia, two Children.
Martia.
My Regulus!—my Love!—

First Child.
My Father!

All.
Oh!

Regulus.
Martia, no more Complaint—while yet I stay;
While yet a few fond Moments are indulg'd;
Let it be spent in Triumphs and Rejoicings,—
Not in Condolement and the Voice of Sorrow.

Martia.
Is this a Time for Triumph or for Joy?
This a fit Season—

Regulus.
Martia, none so fit:
When we have spent an honest blameless Life,
True to its first Direction—equal all
From the first starting to the destin'd Goal,—
Say, at the End, is there not Cause for Joy?
I thank the Gods, that I set out with Honour,
With Honour I come in—my Country's Glory
Was the first Wish that parted from my Heart,
And fills up my last Pray'r—Is not this Triumph?—
Martia! my much-lov'd Martia! share it with me.

Martia.
Thro' the thick Gloom of a long five Years Absence,
Still have I chear'd me with the Twilight Hope;
Tho' doubtful thy Return—still there was Hope;
Tho' captive to thy direst Foes—I still held Hope:
Hope was the Anchor that preserv'd my Bark
Thro' the rough Fury of a five Years Storm.—
But parting now with that—ye Surges dash me—
Split my devoted Sides, and sink me ever!

Regulus.
Despair is Frenzy—hear me my best Martia—

Martia.
What—hear you say that we must part for ever?—
Never again indulge, with equal Fondness,
O'er these dear Pledges of our mutual Loves?—
O Thought of Torture!—Call you this Despair!—
Is this Destraction?—No—or if it be,
Reason has made it so—your boasted Reason,
Has only serv'd to make poor Martia mad.

Regulus.
Martia, no more: The Gods are always just:—
And though we never meet again on Earth;—
Thou know'st there is a Place—a destin'd Place,
Where Honesty and Virtue shall revive;
Where every Sense shall be absorb'd in Thought,
The Contemplation of our heav'nly Essence;
Where the first Mover shall himself instil
Divine Instruction;—where uncloy'd we taste
The Banquet of the Soul, the Feast of Gods;
Where no Misfortune enters, where no Care,
Sends forth the anxious Sigh—but all is Peace,
Fullness of Pleasure, and eternal Joy.

Martia.
And do'st thou only lengthen out my Hope,
And bid me wait, in Certainty of Pain,
For a far distant Ease?—Oh! be more kind—
More just, and let me share Misfortune with thee:—
I will not meanly wait the Course of Nature—
I will shake off this Load—this Life, that holds me
From thy lov'd Fellowship—In Death I'll join thee,
Partner in that as well as Life—

Regulus.
O Martia!
An heavy Sorrow weighs thy Senses down;
Thou hast forgot—an hundred Offices
Which only Time can fill up, claim Attendance;
Behold these little Images of Martia,
Infected with thy Grief—when I am gone,
Who shall take care to form their ductile Minds,
(Unprincipled as yet in Virtue's School)
To shew them Honour's Path—to turn their Steps
From Vices Flow'r-strew'd Way?—Say whose Example,
Bettering all Precept, still shall shine before them,
The fairest Call to Good—but living Martia's?
Remembring this great Duty—canst thou die?

Martia.
O my lov'd Regulus?—what shall I say?
I can with Pleasure die—to live without thee,
Is too severe a Task:—and yet my Children—

Regulus.
Let them determine thee to treasure Life:
Think of their many Wants, and that no Hand
Can minister Relief so well as thine:—
And, for thy Regulus, still think him here;—
I shall be found in every pleasing Prospect:
In the chaste Matron's Look, and Virgin's Smile,
Thou shalt behold thy Regulus—each Act,
That future Virtues may adorn our Rome with,
Shall be a dear Remembrance of my Life:—
Nor think thyself a Widow—be my Fame
Thy second Husband: Or if thou inclin'st
To grace some noble Roman with thy Person
I leave thee Dowry for the best of Men—
Unspotted Truth, and ever-living Honour.

Martia.
And shall the unpolluted Ermine's White
Be soil'd by second Touch? Say shall the Gem,
Set in the burnish'd Bullion of thy Worth,
Be fix'd in base Allay, and vile Demerit—
No, Regulus:

Regulus.
Thou art the Glory of thy Sex—Farewel!—
Keep up thy Constancy of Mind, my Martia!
And let us part with manly Resolution;
Let not the Woman's Grief break in upon thee,
Bear it with unblanch'd Cheek, and Eye unstain'd.

Martia.
Did'st thou say part?—O where is Resolution?—
Where now the stedfast Purpose of my Soul,
Which, at thy lov'd Command had arm'd my Heart?
Sunk into Tremblings, into Sighs and Tears;—
I cannot bear the Tryal—O my Husband!—

Regulus.
Martia remember—Clelia, fare thee well;
Advice were needless now—Thou seest thy Mother—
There never was a Virtue, or a Grace
Which she possess'd not—wear her in thine Eye,
As dearly as the Light that darts upon it:
Thou need'st not look abroad for an Example—
Thou hast it there:—Be like her and be happy:
Farewel my Children! love your virtuous Mother—
Ye will not want a Father by her Care;
Observe her Precepts, follow her Advice,
Rome will be proud to own ye.

Both Children.
O my Father!—

Regulus.