University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

CLODIA
enters alone.
It must be by his blood: The word is past
'Twixt me and Death, and he expects his victim.
My love I tender'd, he disdain'd my love,
And chose my vengeance; vengeance let him have!
Is this hard dealing, Gods? In common life,
Things noxious and abhorr'd we freely kill,
But what we love we spare; my heart then asks
Must Frugi die? Ah! rather must he live;
For Tullia live? while this despised form,
To which the proudest knees in Rome have bent,
Whilst Heav'n was left unworship'd, shall abide
The killing taunts of an insulting Rival,
And waste itself with Envy. Come, Volumnius;
Come Clodius! rather let your keen swords meet
And hack each other, in the dying heart
Of this dear scornful youth. My Soul is tost
Upon a sea of blood, whose stormy channel
My lab'ring bark must pass, e're it can reach
That land of Peace, to which its Hopes are bound.

CLODIUS comes out of the Temple.
CLODIUS.
Hah! who art thou?

CLODIA.
A woman, and a bold one;
That shrinks not to receive thee to her arms,
Fresh from thy crimes, and purpled o'er with blood.

CLODIUS.
Hail, Mistress of my Soul; 'tis done: Revenge
Hath had her fill, and Frugi is no more.
Warm from the living fountain of his heart,
Behold how, like a young and blushing maid,
My pale steel, flecker'd with the ruddy drops,
Weeps for the deed 't has done.

CLODIA.
Give me the dagger:
And is this then the haughty high-born blood,
That flush'd with conscious pride upon his cheek,
When deaf to Love's soft pray'rs he spurn'd me from him,
And chid me with an insolence of Virtue?
Now, Clodius, where's the body?

CLODIUS.
Drench'd in blood
On the cold pavement, and defac'd with wounds,
There, where it fell it lies. Alone I enter'd;
I listen'd; all was silence; save the sound
Of feet light treading on the echoing floor;
Near and more near he came; I cow'ring low
Crept behind Pompey's statue; till at once,
Quick as a lion from his watch, upon him
I sprung, and thrust my weapon to his heart;
He started, fell, and died without a groan.

CLODIA.
But where was Cicero?

CLODIUS.
Where fled I know not.

CLODIA.
It is enough; my vengeance is complete.
Drag forth the body.—Yet I'll view those eyes
Seated in death; Clodius hath marr'd their lustre,
And I may gaze unharm'd.

(Clodius drags the Body forth.
CLODIUS.
What have I done?
Volumnius?—aim'd my dagger at my foe,
And struck a Sister's heart. Where shall I vent
My curses? on the living or the dead?
On him, myself, or Frugi? Hence, away!
Thou hateful minister.
(Throws away his Dagger.
Oh! I am mock'd
Of Heaven, and made the veriest fool of Nature.

CLODIA.
Was this well done?

CLODIUS.
Sister, by Heav'n I swear—

CLODIA.
And dar'st thou swear
By Heav'n, when Hell itself is in thy heart?
I bad thee strike a bold and open foe;
Thou basely murder'st an unguarded friend.

CLODIUS.
Do I deserve this of thee? Think, O think!

CLODIA.
'Tis thought that makes me mad. Ah! wretched me!
Doom'd to be wrong'd and scorn'd by those I lov'd.
For thee, ingrateful, have I stab'd my fame?
For thee endur'd the hiss of public scorn,
And stifled Nature's cries? Was it for thee,
That thou might'st revel in my widow'd arms,
I plung'd my soul in blood; a Husband's blood?
And is not this enough? must he too perish,
That guiltless youth, who troubled not the fount
Of thy delights, but drank at humble distance
The leavings of thy joys.

CLODIUS.
I own I wish'd
To hold entire possession of thy soul:
But 'twas in vain; I saw unnumber'd rivals,
And yet with-held Revenge. Think you I knew not,
When with that fatal steel you arm'd my hand,
And bad me bury it in Frugi's heart;
Think you I knew not then that desperate Love,
And frantic Disappointment doom'd his death?
Yes, Clodia, yes: And therefore 'twas I flew,
Prompt to fulfil thy vengeance and my own,
Nor staid the shifting of a woman's will:
Twice he hath 'scap'd me, yet again I'll meet him.
And then redeem my error.

CLODIA.
Never, never.
Had'st thou at first obey'd and murder'd Caius,
I must have hated him who shed his blood,
But not as now despis'd: Henceforth he lives.
My next revenge a surer hand shall act,
And in a juster cause.—Alas! Volumnius;
Thou never slighted'st me, as Caius did;
Thou wast not harsh, ungrateful, as this Brother,
But ever apt and gentle to' my wishes;
I did not think to have grac'd thee with a tear.
But thy sad fate demands it.

CLODIUS.
If there's truth,
Or honesty in man, I knew him not.

CLODIA.
But I know thee. Oh! that my breath could give
Motion and utterance to these pale cold lips,
And put a tongue into each gaping wound;
That from as many several mouths at once,
As thou to him in jealousy gave strokes,
I might proclaim thee lyar.

CLODIUS.
Hear me, Clodia—

CLODIA.
No, I'll not hear: Cry to the roaring winds,
When they unseat the everlasting rocks,
And lift the wild waves to the vaulted Heav'n,
And thou shalt find an audience from the storm,
But me for ever deaf.

CLODIUS.
Then to the winds
I will complain, for they shall hear my wrongs,
And bear 'em on their charitable wings
To every shore they visit. Luckless man!
O Thou, by ill-designing Nature cast
In the same mould with Frugi; what dark errand
Brought thee to this dire place? Ah! why conceal'd you
That ill-star'd head? and thou, malicious Planet,
Why wouldst not lend thy light?

CLODIA.
Not Frugi's form,
Not this dark hour, nor ill-designing Nature,
But the sole crime of being lov'd by Clodia,
Brought thee to this sad end.

CLODIUS.
Injurious woman,
Wou'd that men's thoughts were graven on their hearts!
So should these hands of mine to thy confusion
Pluck out the bleeding witness of my truth,
And die upon the proof.

CLODIA.
Bare to my eye,
As is thy face, thy guilty bosom lies;
And there in staring characters I read
Murder and Jealousy; infernal names!

CLODIUS.
Murder and Jealousy? O Clodia, Clodia,
Talk'st thou of murder, thou, whose soul is dy'd
Deeper than are these hands which did thy work?
Talk'st thou of Jealousy?—Who doom'd to death
The guiltless Frugi for his faith to Tullia?
Who arm'd my hand this fatal night with flames
'Gainst Cicero's palace? Who inspir'd Gabinius
To seize thy shrieking rival? Who but thou
And that unhappy man, thy guilty minion,
Mixt the dire dose which brave Metellus drank,
And shed a Husband's blood? This thou hast done;
Then talk no more of Jealousy and Murder.

CLODIA.
Take up your sword; lo! where the deathful weapon
Lies at the side of him it basely slew;
Behold my ready bosom; plunge it here.
A curse is fallen on our guilty Loves;
And I am weary of the world and thee.

CLODIUS.
Sister, you've done me wrong; yet shall my hand
Not spill your blood: But if you're bent on death,
Behold I leave you that; when life is irksome,
'Tis all the remedy I know for sorrow.
(Exit Clodius.

CLODIA.
It shall be so. My Soul approves the counsel.
(Takes up the dagger.
Now, Frugi, since the over-ruling will.
Of Fate denies me to repay thy scorn;
'Tis well this way is left me to avoid it.
Farewell, poor murder'd Corse! What, do thy wounds
Open afresh, and answer me in blood?
Thus to the Manes of my murder'd Honour
I make libation; to the vengeful Sisters,
Who with scorch'd feet travel the burning soil,
Where Phlegethon his fiery torrent rolls,
These Harbingers I send: Open, firm Earth,
And give 'em passage to announce my coming.