University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Terentia enters.
Fab.
Terentia, welcome!—you are much a stranger!—
I sent for you this morning.
Come to my arms, Terentia—If report
Be verified, I shame to see you, sister!—

Teren.
What report, my Lord?

Fab.
My friend, Tubero,
Seized by a fatal illness, sent, in haste,
To beg a parting interview—meanwhile,
The Pontiff, and my wife, took our Lavinia,
To fix her in the Temple of dread Vesta.

Teren.
He dare not do it—though he were invested
With all the powers of all the magistrates
That overbear the state! Lavinia is
A flight above the soaring of a Pontiff—
She is Patrician, the first blood in Rome—
A strain that rises o'er the loftiest wing
Of the Valerii!

Fab.
Wherefore this, Terentia?

Teren.
Because I know, my Lord, that your Lavinia,
The flower of Latium's garden, the fair sum
Of nature's sweets, Heaven's highest finish'd work,
Is your own child—
The noblest offspring of the noblest line
Of the most honour'd Fabii!

Fab.
Thou art frantic!

Teren.
No! I shall quickly solve this short enigma.
Soon after my fair sister, your Lavinia,
Blest your fond arms, and your friend Marcellus
Receiv'd me to his bosom, you were both
Summon'd to war, and left us pregnant: I
Brought forth a son, and your beloved Lavinia
A daughter.

Fab.
How?

Teren.
Be patient, yet, my Lord!—
We lived together then. My lovely sister
Had often heard your strong and ardent wishes,
That you might have a son, who should inherit
The fame and virtues of your line.—Lavinia,
Fond to indulge the wishes of her Fabius,
Proposed a change of children.—I assented,
And took your infant daughter to my breast;
While, on your famed re-entry into Rome,
Lavinia gave to your triumphant arm
My little Fabius. Know you this character?
[Produces a tablet.
Upon her latest couch, your parting angel
Gave me this tablet; and requested me,
When time or sudden exigence required,
To yield it to your hands.

Fab.
It is, it is
Her precious character!—To my lips, first—
My heart—and, in my spirit,
Rest for ever!
[Pressing the tablet to his lips and bosom.
Celestial creature, O, divine Lavinia!
To what hast thou abandon'd thy fond Fabius—
Fallen from his state of highest bliss, to dwell
With endless altercation?

Teren.
Read, my Lord,
Pray read!
The dying Lavinia to her Fabius,

“Let my Lord pardon a once pleasing imposition;
and take to his arms my true and living
daughter, for the dead Fabius, son of my sister
Terentia.”

She is, she is my own—my heart foreknew it—
My child, my child Lavinia!—where, where is she?—
O, I remember now!—Where are ye all?
Servants enter.
Fly to the Temple! bid Julia instant home,
Or never meet the sight of Fabius more!

[Exeunt Servants.
Teren.
Your wish is gratify'd—
She comes, my Lord.—