 | Horace |  |
Scena Sexta.
Horace. Proculus.Proculus.
What have you done?
Horace.
An exemplary act,
And a due justice for so foul a fact.
Proculus.
But to your Sister this was too severe.
Horace.
Never tell me how near ally'd we were.
My Father scorns to own a child so base,
Curses her Country, and disclaims her Race;
All ties of Love are forfeited and gone,
And she is stript of all Relation.
Her nearest Kindred cannot but disclaim
A beast that brands her Family with shame.
The promptest vengeance, and most cruel must,
For such a Crime as hers be stil'd most just;
And those her impious wishes ought to be
Stifled like Monsters in their infancy.
| Horace | |