University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A Street of Rome.
CHORUS of Youths and Virgins singing and scattering Branches of Oak, Flowers, &c. Then enters Horatius leaning on the Arm of Publius Horatius.
Horatius.

Publius.
No more, my Friends.—You must permit me, Sir,
To contradict you here. Not but my Soul,
Like yours, is open to the Charms of Praise:
There is no Joy beyond it, when the Mind
Of him who hears it can with honest Pride
Confess it just, and listen to its Music.
But now the Toils I have sustain'd require
Their Interval of Rest, and every Sense
Is deaf to Pleasure.—Let me leave you, Friends;
We're near our Home, and would be private now:
To-morrow we'll expect your kind Attendance
To share our Joys, and waft our Thanks to Heaven.

[As they are going off Horatia rushes in.
Horatia.
Where is this mighty Chief?

Horatius.
My Daughter's Voice!
I bade her come; she has forgot her Sorrows,
And is again my Child.

Horatia.
Is this the Hero
That tramples Nature's Ties, and nobly soars
Above the Dictates of Humanity?
Let me observe him well.

Publius.
What means my Sister?

Horatia.
Thy Sister! I disclaim the impious Title;
Base and inhuman! Give me back my Husband,
My Life, my Soul, my murdered Curiatius!

Publius.
He perish'd for his Country.

Horatia.
Gracious Gods,
Was't not enough that thou had'st murdered him,
But thou must triumph in thy Guilt, and wear
His bleeding Spoils?—O let me tear them from thee,
Drink the dear Drops that issued from his Wounds,
More dear to me than the whole Tide that swells
With impious Pride a hostile Brother's Heart.

Horatius.
Am I awake, or is it all Illusion!
Was it for this thou cam'st?

Publius.
Horatia, hear me.
Yet I am calm, and can forgive thy Folly;
Would I could call it by no harsher Name.
But do not tempt me farther.—Go, my Sister,
Go hide thee from the World, nor let a Roman
Know with what Insolence thou dar'st avow
Thy Infamy, or what is more my Shame
How tamely I forgave it.—Go, Horatia.

Horatia.
I will not go.—What, have I touch'd thee then?
And can'st thou feel?—O think not thou shalt lose
Thy share of Anguish. I'll pursue thee still,
Urge thee all Day with thy unnatural Crimes,
Tear, harrow up thy Breast: and then at Night
I'll be the Fury that shall haunt thy Dreams;
Wake thee with Shrieks, and place before thy Sight
Thy mangled Friends in all their Pomp of Horror.

Publius.
Away with her; 'tis womanish Complaining.
Think'st thou such Trifles can alarm the Man
Whose noblest Passion is his Country's Love?
—Let it be thine, and learn to bear Affliction.

Horatia.
Curse on my Country's Love, the Trick ye teach us
To make us Slaves beneath the Mask of Virtue;
To rob us of each soft endearing Sense,
And violate the first, great Law within us.
I scorn the impious Passion.

Publius.
Have a Care;
Thou'st touch'd a String which may awake my Vengeance.

Horatia.
[Aside.
Then it shall do it.

Publius.
O, if thou dar'st prophane
That sacred Tie which winds about my Heart,
By Heaven I swear, by the great Gods who rule
The Fate of Empires, 'tis not this fond Weakness
Which hangs upon me, and retards my Justice,
Nor even thy Sex, which shall protect thee from me.

[Clapping his Hand on his Sword.
Horatius.
Drag her away—thou'lt make me curse thee, Girl—
Indeed she's mad.

[To Publius.
Horatia.
Stand off, I am not mad—
Nay, draw thy Sword; I do defy thee, Murderer,
Barbarian, Roman!—Mad; the Name of Rome
Makes Madmen of you all; my Curses on it.
I do detest its impious Policy.
Rise, rise ye States (O that my Voice could fire
Your tardy Wrath!) confound its selfish Greatness,
Rase it's proud Walls, and lay its Towers in Ashes!

Publius.
I'll bear no more—

[Drawing his Sword.
Horatius.
Distraction!—Force her off—

Horatia.
[Struggling.
Could I but prove the Helen to destroy
This curs'd unsocial State, I'd die with Transport:
Gaze on the spreading Fires—'till the last Pile
Sunk in the Blaze—then mingle with its Ruins.

Publius.
Thou shalt not live to that.

Horatius.
Assist me, Friends—
Drag—tear her off.—O Publius—O my Son—
Spare, spare a Father!

[They force her off.
Publius.
[After a Pause.
Let her avoid me then.—My whole Soul's mov'd,
And Rome's immortal Genius stirs within me!
Yes, ye dread Powers, whose everlasting Fires
Blaze on our Altars, and whose sacred Shields
From Heaven descending guard imperial Rome,
I feel, I feel your Wrongs—for you I fought,
For you I bear the Sword.—Lead on my Friends.

[Exit.
Horatius.
[Looking at him as he goes out.
How dreadful, yet how lovely is his Virtue!

[Going after him.
Enter Valerius and two or three Servants.
Valerius.
[Stopping Horatius.
Saw you your Daughter, Sir?

Horatius.
Alas, Valerius,
I yet stand trembling on the Brink of Fate,
And scarce can think the dreadful Moment past.
She has been here, and with such impious Outrage
Assail'd her Brother, that our utmost Force
Scarce sav'd her from his Sword.

Valerius.
He could not sure
Attempt her Life!

Horatius.
He did.

Valerius.
And could you bear
That Sight, my Lord?

Horatius.
Valerius, ask me not
What I could bear. I feel the Torment still.
And dread to think what Mischiefs had ensued
Had I like him been warm'd and deaf to Nature.

Valerius.
But she is safe?

Horatius.
Yes, from the Sword she is;
But mad as the Cumæan Maid she raves,
And pours incessant Curses on her Country.
Misguided Girl!
But I can bear my Fate; the Hand of Heaven
Chastises thus my Insolence of Joy,
I were too happy else!—Yet Art perhaps
May give her Ease, your Sister will attend her.
I must not see her now; Publius will think
That I neglect him; every Pang I feel
Affronts his Virtue, and each idle Doubt
Is Treason to the State his Arm has saved.
O my divided Heart!

[Exit.
Valerius.
Publius will think!
Then 'tis in Rome, it seems, become a Crime
Ev'n for the softer Sex to let their Anguish
Transport their Souls beyond the Bounds of Reason.
Our Heroes would new-mold Humanity;
And tie down Madness to the pedant Rules
Of dull Discretion.—Dar'd attempt her Life!
Let me not think on that. I will avoid him,
'Till I am calm again.—Go some of you
This Way, some that, and search my Sister out.
Say, If I meet her not, I shall return
And wait her here.—This Violence of Grief
Cannot last long and such a Heart as hers
So form'd for Passion, so accessible
To tender Pains, may learn once more to prove
The pleasing Transports of reviving Love.