University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Scene, a Hall in the Consul's Palace.
Enter Licinius, Attilia, Lictors and People.
LICINIUS.
Ah, my Attilia, do I find thee here?
Is this a place for Regulus's daughter?
Just Gods! must that incomparable maid
Associate here with Lictors and Plebeians?

ATTILIA.
Yes, on this threshold patiently I wait
The Consul's coming; I would make him blush
To see me here his suitor. O Licinius,
This is no time for form, and cold decorum;
Five lagging years have crept their tedious round
And Regulus, alas! is still a slave;
A wretched slave, unpitied, and forgotten;
No other tribute paid his memory,
Than the sad tears of his unhappy child;
If she be silent who will speak for Regulus?

LICINIUS.
Let not her sorrows make my Fair unjust.
Is there in Rome a heart so dead to virtue
That does not beat in Regulus's cause?
That wearies not the Gods for his return?
That does not think all subjugated Afric,
A slender, unimportant acquisition,
If, in return for all this added empire,
The freedom of thy father be the purchase?
These are Rome's feelings, for, my lov'd Attilia,
It were superfluous, to declare my own.
For, if Licinius were to weigh his merit,
That he's thy father were sufficient glory.
He was my leader, train'd me up to arms,
And if I boast some sparks of Roman honor,
I owe them to his precepts, and his virtues.

ATTILIA.
And yet I have not ought observ'd, Licinius—

LICINIUS.
Ah! spare me thy reproaches—what could I
When but a private Citizen perform?
'Tis not the lust of power, or pride of rank,
Has made me seek the dignity of Tribune;
No, my Attilia, but I fondly hop'd
'Twould strengthen and inforce my just request,
Which as a private man I vainly made;
But now, the people's representative,
I shall demand, Attilia, to be heard.

ATTILIA.
Ah! let us not too hastily apply
This dang'rous remedy; I would not rouse
Fresh tumults 'twixt the people and the senate:
Each views with jealousy the idol power,
Which each possessing wou'd alike abuse.
Whatever wish'd-for boon the one demands,
The other thro' reluctant pride denies.
Might I advise you, try a gentler method;
I know that every moment Rome expects
Th'Ambassador of Carthage, and I've heard
The Conscript Fathers are already met
To give him audience in Bellona's temple.
There might the Consul, at my suit, Licinius,
Propose the ransom of my captive father.

LICINIUS.
Ah! think, Attilia, who that Consul is,
Manlius, thy father's rival, and his foe:
His ancient rival, and his foe profess'd:
To hope in him, my fair, were fond delusion.

ATTILIA.
Yet, tho' his rival, Manlius is a Roman:
Nor will he think of private enmities,
Weigh'd in the balance with the good of Rome.
Let me at least make trial of his honour.

LICINIUS.
Be it so, my fair, but elsewhere make thy suit,
Let not the Consul meet Attilia here,
Confounded with the refuse of the people.

ATTILIA.
Yes, I will see him here, e'en here, Licinius.
Let Manlius blush, not me: Here will I speak,
Here shall he answer me.

LICINIUS.
Behold he comes.

ATTILIA.
Do thou retire.

LICINIUS.
O bless me with a look,
One parting look at least.

ATTILIA.
Know, my Licinius,
That at this moment I am all the daughter,
The filial feelings now possess my soul,
And other passions find no entrance there.

LICINIUS.
O sweet, yet powerful influence of virtue
That charms tho' cruel, tho' unkind subdues,
And what was love exalts to admiration!
Yes, 'tis the privilege of souls, like thine
To conquer most when least they aim at conquest.
Yet, ah! vouchsafe, thou noblest among women,
Sometimes to think with pity on Licinius,
Nor fear to rob thy father of his due;
For surely Virtue, and the Gods, approve
Unwearied constancy, and spotless love.
Exit Licinius.

Enter Manlius.
ATTILIA.
Ah! Manlius stay, a moment, stay, and hear me.

MANLIUS.
I did not think to meet thee here, Attilia,
Here, in a place so little worthy of thee.

ATTILIA.
It were unworthy, did Attilia boast
A godlike father free from cruel bondage;
But for the daughter of a slave to Carthage,
It surely is most fitting.

MANLIUS.
Say, Attilia,
What is the purpose of thy coming hither?

ATTILIA.
What is the purpose? patience, patience, heaven!
Tell me, how long to Rome's eternal shame,
To fill with horror all the wond'ring world,
My father still must groan in Punic chains,
And waste the tedious hours in sad captivity?
Days follow days, and years to years succeed,
And Rome forgets her hero is a slave.
Has he, alas! deserv'd to be forgotten?
What is his crime? is it to have preferr'd
His country's profit to his children's good?
Is it th'unshaken firmness of his soul,
Just, uncorrupt, invariably good?
Perhaps his poverty has been his fault,
Poor in the highest dignities of Rome;
Illustrious error, glorious poverty!

MANLIUS.
But know, Attilia,

ATTILIA.
Yet awhile attend:
And can ungrateful Rome so soon forget?
Can those who breathe the air he breath'd forget
The great, the godlike virtues of my father?
There's not a part of Rome but speaks his praise.
The streets—thro' them the hero pass'd triumphant;
The Forum—there the Legislator plann'd
The wisest, wholsomest, and purest laws;
The Senate-house—there spoke the patriot Roman,
There oft' his voice secur'd the public safety:
The wisdom of his councils match'd his valor.
Enter the Temples—mount the Capitol—
And tell me, Manlius, to what hand but his
They owe their trophies, and their ornaments,
Their foreign banners, and their boasted ensigns,
Tarentine, Punic, and Sicilian spoils?
Nay ev'n those Lictors, who precede thy steps,
This Consul's purple, which invests thy limbs,
All, all were Regulus's, were my father's.
And yet this hero, this exalted patriot,
This man of virtue, this immortal Roman,
In base requital for his services,
Is left to linger out a life in chains,
No honors paid him but a daughter's tears.
O Rome! O Regulus! O thankless Citizens!

MANLIUS.
Just are thy tears:—Thy father well deserves them:
But know thy censure is unjust, Attilia.
The fate of Regulus is felt by all:
We know the unexampled woes he suffers
From barbarous Carthage.

ATTILIA.
Manlius you mistake,
Alas! it is not Carthage, which is barbarous;
Tis Rome, ungrateful Rome is the Barbarian;
Carthage but punishes a foe profess'd,
But Rome betrays her hero, and her father;
Carthage remembers how he slew her sons,
But Rome forgets the blood he lost for her;
Carthage revenges an acknowledg'd foe,
But Rome with basest perfidy rewards
The glorious hand, that bound her brow with laurels.
Which now is the barbarian, Rome, or Carthage?

MANLIUS.
What can be done?

ATTILIA.
Need I instruct you what?
Convene the Senate; let them strait propose
A ransom, or exchange for Regulus,
To Africa's Ambassador. Do this,
And heav'n's best blessings crown your days with peace.

MANLIUS.
Thou speakest like a daughter, I, Attilia,
Must as a Consul act; I must consult
The good of Rome, her glory, her renown.
Would it not tarnish her unspotted fame,
To sue to Carthage on the terms thou wishest?

ATTILIA.
Ah! rather own thou art still my father's foe.

MANLIUS.
Is it my fault, Attilia, if thy father
By Carthaginian power was overcome?

ATTILIA.
Before that fatal period oft' he taught you—

MANLIUS.
Farewell! ere this the Senate is assembled—
My presence is requir'd.—Speak to the fathers,
And try to soften their austerity,
My rigor they may render vain, for know,
I am Rome's Consul, not her King, Attilia.

Exit Manlius with the Lictors, &c.
Attilia
alone.
This flattering hope, alas! has prov'd abortive.
One Consul is our foe, the other absent.
What shall the sad Attilia next attempt?
Shall I then try for popular assistance?
Ah! my unhappy father, on what hazards,
What strange vicissitudes, what various turns,
Thy life, thy liberty, thy all depends!

Enter Barce, in haste.
Ah my Attilia!

ATTILIA.
Whence this eager haste?

BARCE.
Th'Ambassador of Carthage is arriv'd.

ATTILIA.
And why does that excite such wondrous transport?

BARCE.
I bring another cause of greater still.

ATTILIA.
Name it my Barce.

BARCE.
Regulus comes with him.

ATTILIA.
My father! can it be?

BARCE.
Thy father—Regulus.

ATTILIA.
Thou art deceiv'd, or thou deceiv'st thy friend.

BARCE.
Indeed I saw him not, but every tongue
Speaks the glad tidings.

Enter Publius.
ATTILIA.
See where Publius comes.

PUBLIUS.
My sister, I'm transported! Oh Attilia,
He's here, our father—Regulus is come!

ATTILIA.
I thank you, Gods. O my full heart! where is he?
Hasten my brother, lead, O lead me to him.

PUBLIUS.
It is too soon, restrain thy fond impatience.
With Africa's Ambassador he waits,
Until th'assembled senate give him audience.

ATTILIA.
Where was he Publius, when thou saw'st him first?

PUBLIUS.
You know, in quality of Roman Quæstor,
My duty 'tis to find a fit abode
For all Ambassadors of foreign states.
Hearing the Carthaginian was arriv'd,
I hasten'd to the port, when, O just Gods!
No foreigner, no foe, no African
Salutes my eye, but Regulus—my father!

ATTILIA.
Oh mighty joy! too exquisite delight!
What said the hero? tell me, tell me all,
And ease my anxious breast.

PUBLIUS.
E'er I arriv'd,
My father stood already on the shore,
Fixing his eyes with anxious eagerness,
As straining to descry the Capitol.
I saw, and flew with transport to embrace him,
Pronounc'd with wildest joy the name of father—
With reverence seiz'd his venerable hand,
And wou'd have kiss'd it; when the awful hero
With that stern grandeur which made Carthage tremble,
Drew back—stood all collected in himself,
And said austerely, know, thou rash young man,
That slaves in Rome have not the rights of fathers.
Then ask'd, if yet the senate was assembled,
And where; which having heard, without indulging
The fond effusions of his soul, or mine,
He suddenly retir'd. I flew with speed
To find the Consul, but as yet, success
Attends not my pursuit. Direct me to him.

BARCE.
Publius you'll find him in Bellona's temple.

ATTILIA.
Then Regulus returns to Rome a slave!

PUBLIUS.
Yes, but be comforted, I know he brings
Proposals for a peace; his will's his fate.

ATTILIA.
Rome may perhaps refuse to treat of peace.

PUBLIUS.
Did'st thou behold the universal joy
At his return, thou would'st not doubt, my sister.
There's not a man you meet but wild with transport,
Proclaims aloud that Regulus is come!
The streets are fill'd with thronging multitudes,
Pressing with eager gaze to catch a look.
The happy man who can descry him first
Points him to his next neighbour, he to his,
Then what a thunder of applause goes round;
What music to the ear of filial love!
Attilia! there was not a Roman eye
But shed pure tears of exquisite delight.
Judge of my feelings by thy own, my sister,
By the large measure of thy fond affection.

ATTILIA.
Where is Licinius? find him out, my brother,
My joy is incompleat till he partakes it.
When doubts, and fears have rent my anxious heart,
In all my woes he kindly bore a part:
Felt all my sorrows with a soul sincere,
Sigh'd as I sigh'd, and number'd tear for tear;
Now favouring Heav'n my ardent vows has blest,
He shall divide the transports of my breast.
Exit Attilia.

PUBLIUS.
Barce, adieu!

BARCE.
Publius, a moment hear me,
Know'st thou the name of Africa's Ambassador?

PUBLIUS.
Hamilcar.

BARCE.
Son of Hanno?

PUBLIUS.
Yes! the same.

BARCE.
Ah me! my lover.—How shall I support it!

[Aside.]
PUBLIUS.
Ah charming maid! the blood forsakes thy cheek,
Is he the rival of thy Publius? speak,
And tell me all the rigor of my fate.

BARCE.
Hear me, my lord. Since I have been thy slave
Thy goodness, and the friendship of Attilia,
Have soften'd all the horrors of my fate.
'Till now I have not felt the weight of bondage.
'Till now—ah Publius!—think me not ungrateful,
I would not wrong thee—I will be sincere—
I will expose the weakness of my soul.
Know then my lord—how shall I tell thee all?

PUBLIUS.
Stop, cruel maid, nor wound thy Publius more,
I dread the fatal frankness of thy words;
Spare me the pain of knowing I am hated;
And if thy heart's devoted to another
Yet do not tell it me; in tender pity
Do not, my fair, dissolve the fond illusion,
The dear delightful visions I have form'd,
Of future joy, and fond exhaustless love.
Exit Publius.

Barce,
alone.

Exit.