 | The Banishment of Cicero |  |
SCENE I.
An Apartment in Cicero's Palace.TULLIA, FRUGI.
TULLIA.
Alone; unguarded; to the house of Clodia,
The sister of my father's deadliest foe?
She tempts you to your ruin: This late hour
Appointed for your meeting; her pretence
To reconcile her brother to our house,
Each circumstance about it breathes contrivance,
And meditated mischief. Do not go:
Trust her not, Caius; ah! she is a woman,
The wiliest of her sex.
FRUGI.
What can I do?
A sinking man will catch at slender holds.
TULLIA.
A sinking man?—Was ever friend like thee?
In his full tide of pow'r my father stood,
Like some tall rock, around whose worship'd sides
The climbing surges hung, by prosperous gales
Driv'n gladly on; but when the veering wind
And fickle current chang'd, the ebbing waves
Roll'd back and left him bare. Why then alone
Dost thou, unlike the false ones of the world,
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Shall bury thee, and dash thy youthful hopes?
FRUGI.
And, tell me, hast thou never, O my Tullia,
Ask'd of thy heart that question? Never yet
Bid it resolve thee, why with anxious zeal
For Marcus Cicero, I have stak'd my hopes
An uninvited friend, and drawn the rage
Of the whole Clodian faction on my head?
TULLIA.
Alas, I know not. Whither would you lead me?
FRUGI.
Then if thou know'st not why I have done this,
It is because my Tullia's charms outweigh,
Great as it is, the virtue of her father;
Because it is in love to do and suffer,
More than the warmest sense of friendship dare.
TULLIA.
Take care; I'd not conceive a less'ning thought
Of Frugi's friendship—interested friendship?—
An interested service?—How that sounds!
Oh! how it loses the great name of virtue,
And the sweet praise that gratitude bestows
On clear intent, and pure beneficence.
FRUGI.
Her father speaks within her: How she awes me?
Fir'd with thy just reproof, I could explore
The farthest regions of th'untravell'd earth,
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And arm the barbarous nations in his cause,
If that would gain thy love. But this is raving,
And Clodia's hour is come; farewell! awhile,
If it be possible, I will forget
How much I love thee, Tullia.
(Exit Frugi.
TULLIA.
Is he gone?
For ever gone? O stay; return, my Caius.
FRUGI Returns.
FRUGI.
Behold thy Caius—that alluring voice
Has music in't of such a heav'nly sort,
As might awake attention in the grave,
And harmonize the drowsy ear of death.
TULLIA.
Ah! spare my blushes; spare a doating maid,
Nor scorn the easy conquest of my heart,
Which sixt on thee, and with thy virtues charm'd,
Bursts its confinement and that modest guard,
Which prudent virgins plant upon their lips;
And do not think it weak and slightly pois'd,
For each vain blast of flattery to o'erturn;
Nor charge the softness you alone inspire,
To female frailty and defective nature.
FRUGI.
No, thou art all that's elegant and fair,
And perfect upon earth; and Caius happy
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Or fancy drew, when glowing raptures catch
The poet's breast, and set the soul on fire.
TULLIA.
Why must I only answer thee with sighs?
What is it hangs thus heavy on my heart,
And weighs it down, when it should spring with joy?
Alas! 'tis conscience; 'tis the pride of honour;
'Tis the severe condition of my fate,
Which makes it ruin to be lov'd by Tullia,
And warns me to suppress the guilty flame.
FRUGI.
Sure virtue will not be renounc'd of Heav'n:
The Gods are just; thy father must not perish.
Clodia, I come. Fate holds her balance forth,
That wavers doubtful betwixt death and life.
TULLIA.
Ah! do not rush upon assur'd destruction;
Perhaps that life, which you so rashly venture,
Tullia may hold far dearer than her own.
FRUGI.
Then let me stay, till Clodius finds me here,
And fate arrests me in my Tullia's arms.
TULLIA.
O horror! how, and what shall I resolve?
FRUGI.
The pity, that now springs in Clodia's heart,
If scorn'd, will turn to unrelenting rage,
And burst in ruin on thy father's head.
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How soon that name recalls me to myself!
Fly, Caius, fly; e're love revokes the doom,
And drives out nature from my vanquish'd heart.
FRUGI.
O Tullia, take, for thou hast won my soul!
Now I'm o'erpaid for all that fate can do.
(Embracing her,
TULLIA.
Ah! look not, speak not: I relapse apace.
Let me not turn a parricide; away!
If I recall thee, come not back. Adieu!
While I have strength to speak the word, adieu!
(Exit Frugi.
TULLIA
, Alone.
What have I done, and whither is he gone?
To Clodia.—Ah! I fear that is to death:
For she perhaps hath laid this midnight plot,
To seize my unsuspecting Frugi's life;
Perhaps, (ah! that were worse) to seize his heart;
For she is mistress of a thousand charms.
O Love, thou wear'st a smiling Cupid's face,
Till we fond virgins take thee in our arms;
There warm'd, thou grow'st into an ugly fiend,
And strik'st a thousand daggers in our hearts.
(Exit.
| The Banishment of Cicero | |