 | Horace |  |
26
Scena Septima.
Horace the Father. Horace. Curiace. Sabina. Camilla.Horace the Father.
Is this a time in Love parleys to spend,
When Rome and Alba do your Arms attend!
When Blood should weep, do you converse with tears!
Go! leave these Women to their womens fears.
Their griefs (my Sons) too subtil are for you,
And by contagion will your hearts subdue;
Nor can you but by flight evade their powers.
Sabina.
Doubt them not (Sir) they'r worthy to be yours,
And slighting all our prayers, resolv'd prepare
For acts becoming him whose Sons they are:
But if our tears have soft'ned them, we do
Thus give you scope to fortifie them new.
Come Sister, let us go, we weep in vain,
Tears are too weak to conquer bruitish man.
To our sole refuge, black despair, we fly,
Go Tygers then, and fight, whilst we go die.
| Horace | |