 | Appius and Virginia |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE, Rome.Enter Lucius Icilius, Marcus his Brother.
L. Icil.
My Brother!
M. Icil.
My dearest Brother! Welcome!
L. Icil.
Came my last Letters safe to you?
M. Icil.
They did: And I have summon'd all our Friends,
And e'en this Now expect them.
L. Icil.
I sent Virginia notice of my arrival,
She once was wont upon the shortest absence,
To fly upon the warmest Wings of Love
Into the eager Arms of her Icilius;
But now deludes my Hope, and starves my Eyes.
M. Icil.
They say, she takes repose to which her Eyes
Have strangers been, for these three feavourish Nights.
L. Icil.
Virginia languishing, and Rome expiring!
What have the Gods resolv'd to do with me?
With me; who have no Soul, no Life, no Being,
Unless for thee; O! Rome, and thee Virginia!
Enter Valerius.
Val.
My best Valerius, welcome to my Arms!
Patron of Liberty! Rome's genuine Son,
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Horatius hail!
Enter Horatius.
Hor.
Lucius Icilius!—Hail!
Thy Summons I have eagerly obey'd,
And all the Blood of the Horatiis rous'd,
In expectation of th'important Things
Which thou hast made me hope from thee.
L. Icil.
Hail to my Uncle, Publius Numitorius,
And thou, O Caius, welcome!
Enter Publius Numitorius, Caius his Son.
P. Num.
Welcome to Rome! what News brings Lucius hither?
L. Icil.
Can there be stranger News than that ten Men
Shou'd Lord it o'er two hundred thousand Romans,
Each single Roman, braver than the Ten?
P. Num.
What News from th'Army near Fidenæ's Walls?
Hor.
How fares the darling Hero of the Legions,
The noble Prop of his declining Country;
The pride of Rome, the glory of the Field!
Th'invincible Dentatus—How bears he
Th'insults of our ten Tyrants?
L. Icil.
How just enquiry has Horatius made?
'Tis of Dentatus, that I come to speak;
And tell you that Rome's Champion is no more;
But near to old Fidenæ's fatal Walls,
By fifty Assassines, his Head lies low;
Yet his great Soul expir'd not unreveng'd,
But twenty of his Murderers first he slew.
Hor.
How! murder'd!
L. Icil.
Yes, basely, and most barbarously murder'd!
Is Murder, then, a sound so strange at Rome,
When ye behold each day her bravest Sons
Or basely scourg'd, or barbarously slain?
When he who dares but Look a free born Soul,
Grows strait suspected to the accurst Decemvirs,
3
The Tyrant of the Nine as they of Rome.
Can ye then wonder, that the brave Dentatus,
Who breath'd forth nothing but immortal Fame,
Immortal Liberty, had been for thirty Years
Rome's Champion, and his manly Breast, her Bulwark,
Who shrunk not from her, in a hundred Fields,
But with the utmost hazard of his Life,
Perform'd a thousand Actions every Year,
That from destruction sav'd her noblest Off-spring,
Sav'd almost half the Lives of our Patritians,
Sav'd Rome, recover'd the proud Capitol,
Who was adorn'd with twenty golden Crowns
Civic and Mural—Seam'd with fifty Scars
Illustrious all, all in his manly Front,
More to be valu'd than a hundred Crowns,
Can ye admire, that this unequal'd Man
Shou'd grow the Terror of the proud Decemvir?
Or can ye admire that whom they fear they Murder?
All.
Murder'd by them?
L. Icil.
By whom, but by the Author of all ill;
By proud, presumptuous, overlooking Appius,
Who sent Dentatus Legate to the Camp;
Then to his Collegues, wrote a learned Scrol,
To hire Assassinates, who might in secret
Dispatch him on that sacred Message sent.
Val.
The blackest Punishments of Hell reward him!
L. Icil.
Yes, yes, with reason ye may rage ye Romans;
For who that is but Man, can calmly hear,
Of so much Villany, of so much Cruelty,
Such base Perfidiousness, so black a Treason,
Attended with that Pride, that Arrogance,
Who can once see that proud presumptuos Look,
But he must burn with generous Disdain?
Val.
Oh damn him!
Hor.
Furies seize him.
L. Icil.
To think that one so abject by our baseness
Shou'd lord it with high Looks, should have the power
4
Shou'd use the Power we gave him to make Laws,
To drive all Law from out his bleeding Country,
Retain the Office given him for a Year,
Beyond that Year, and set no bounds to Tyranny,
Who can reflect without avenging Fury
Upon the high deserts with which h' acquir'd
This absolute Command, when he who looks
So proud, so haughty, so contemptuous now
Once basely flatter'd, and more basely fawn'd
Upon the very Lees, and Dregs of Rome;
With a dissembl'd Mildness cloak'd his Rage;
With deep Humility conceal'd his Pride;
With courteous Airs his Insolence disguis'd;
Debauching with vile Arts like a lewd Whore
Th'Affections of the meanest Sons of Rome,
And yet this wretch, who when he sought his Power,
Cring'd but to day, before the vilest Roman,
The very next, when he had gain'd that Power
Grew haughty, fierce and insolent at once,
Nay, with Contempt outragious, not to be born,
Not to be thought of, without Death, and Vengeance;
The Tyrant scourg'd, or barbarously murder'd,
The very Slaves on whom the former Sun
Had seen him basely fawn.
Val.
The Traytor!
L. Icil.
Yes, this is the great Author of our woe,
Yes, this is he, who murder'd great Dentatus,
And who this moment meditates the means,
To do as much for him, for you, for me,
For every brave, for each distinguish'd Roman,
While we look tamely on, tamely as Sheep,
That one by one are from each other snatch'd,
And hurry'd to the Slaughter.
Hor.
But know the Legions of Dentatus death?
L. Icil.
All! all!
Val.
Now come to the important Question, Lucius,
How bear the Legions brave Dentatus death?
5
Ay, that's the Question which I here by Fate
Deputed come to answer.
The Legions bear their darling Hero's death,
As Supreme Jove then bears with mighty Crimes,
When in his spacious Hand, he rowls the Threefork'd Bolt,
Preparing to discharge the grumbling Thunder.
Some in hoarse murmurs threaten, others stand
Moping with sullen silence, stupid grief,
Hungry and Pale, and pining for Revenge;
Some from their Blood-shot Eyes, dart gloomy Rage,
And some to their Companions cry aloud,
Oh that the Bounteous Gods wou'd send us Chiefs,
Who had but Spirits worthy to Command us.
Hor.
Oh noble Sound!
V.
There's Rome, there's Life, there's Liberty in this!
L. Icil.
What wonder, the impatient Legions cry,
What wonder, if the Nations all take Arms,
Justly disdaining Empire shou'd be there
Where Liberty's no more.
What do we here against our Sabine Foes?
What wonder if Fidenæ—sees us fly,
As Hoary Algidum—of late beheld
Our other Army flying from the Æqui:
How shou'd we conquer Nations, Brave and Free,
Who are so base as to be Slaves to Appius?
Why shou'd we Conquer, when we fear Success,
Fear Victory, when still the bravest Man,
And he who most Illustrious Acts performs,
Works Ruine for himself.
Hor.
'Tis Just, and Brave!
L. Icil.
Lead us against the Sabines, and we fly,
We'll neither Fight against our selves,
Nor Fight for cruel Appius.
Lead us to Rome, lead us against our Tyrant;
And then we will be Men once more,
Once more we will be Romans.
Val.
O! all ye immortal Gods!
Let us to Horse without delay, and Head them!
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Spoke like the purest Blood of brave Poplicola.
Hor.
Valerius speaks for all.
All but P. Num. For all, for all.
Let us to Horse immediately, and Head them.
P. Num.
Hold! why to Horse, why to Fidenæ's Walls,
Appius is here, even here in Rome he Lords it;
Removing Appius, we remove the Ten,
His subtle Arts establish'd this Command,
His Fire ferments, and Animates the Nine,
And His discernment from them wards the Blows
Which else e'er this had prov'd the Blows of Fate—
Appius remov'd, the Legions, and the Tribes,
Will soon forsake the wretched Nine, his Tools;
What need we then to old Fidenæ run?
Why should we Strangers trust with that Design
Which we may execute by Friends alone?
Horatius, and Valerius, are your Friends
And Clients, and Dependants ready Arm'd.
Hor.
That our own Safety has long since requir'd:
But see, Cornelia, Sister to Virginius,
A Matron worthy Rome in nobler Times,
Equal in every Virtue to the Best,
Above them in the Greatness of her Mind.
Enter Cornelia.
Corn.
My Message my Intrusion must Excuse,
Lucius Icilius, 'tis to thee I come;
Lord Appius has sent word that in two Hours
He will be here in Person.
L. Icil.
Who!
Corn.
Lord Appius.
L. Icil.
Lord Appius, will be where?
Corn.
Here, in my Brother's House.
L. Icil.
Here in Virginius House, impossible!
He knows its Master bears him deadly Hatred;
What shou'd he come for?
7
What shou'd the Tyrant come for?
When Tarquin glutted was with other Crimes,
And satiated with Rapins, and with Murder,
Then the young Tyrant to Collatium went
To visit Chast Lucretia.
L. Icil.
For which the Dog lies Howling now in Sulphur.
But let Dire Appius know then Brutus rose
Hor.
And Horace.
Val.
And Valerius.
L. Icil.
And made the trembling Tyrant gnash his Teeth,
And curse the Hour in Anguish of his Soul,
That e'er he saw Lucretia.
Corn.
Ten Messages has haughty Appius sent
On a detested purpose to Virginia,
Us'd every baser Artifice to gain her,
Promis'd, and vilely Threaten'd, Flatter'd, Fawn'd.
L. Icil.
The Plagues of Jove, and his blue Lightning blast him!
Corn,
But thou might'st trust her, Lucius, with the Wretch
Who tempted cold Diana, or with him
Who the dissembl'd Majesty of Juno
Embrac'd with Empty Arms:
Thou know'st Virginia's Tenderness of Soul,
Soft as the Down upon the Wings of Cupid;
Yet warm as is the God's own Heart to thee.
Thou know'st th'abhorrence which she bears to Vice,
How she starts wildly from the Thought of Guilt
Or of Dishonour, then do thou be judge
With what Astonishment, with what Convulsions
Her Soul receiv'd these Messages from Appius;
A Feaver dangerous to Life ensu'd.
L. Icil.
O give me Patience, Heaven, or grow thou
Enrag'd like me, and hurl th'avenging Thunder
Corn.
Lucius, this Villain is below the Thunder;
Believe thy self the Delegate of Heaven
T'avenge thy Rome, and thy Virginia wrong'd.
L. Icil.
O! Revenge! Revenge!
Corn.
By Duty, and Affection both, she's thine,
By Spousals not to be dissolv'd, Betroth'd,
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To make the loveliest Maid entirely thine,
That Rome, or lovely Italy can Boast,
Those Sacred Rites too, are just now preparing.
And e'er the Sun rowls twice more round the Heavens,
Thou'lt be completely blest.
Then, Lucius, I address my self to thee,
To know what answer I must send to Appius.
Hor.
Let good Cornelia send the Tyrant word
She is preparing all things to receive him.
L. Icil.
What means Horatius!
Val.
O! by all means receive him!
L. Icil.
Receive him! how receive him!
Val.
Warmly, as Patriots should receive a Tyrant,
Let us receive him Lucius, let us grasp him,
Not by the Hand, but by the faithless Heart;
Hast thou a Dagger, and could'st ask that Question,
What Roman wants one here?
L. Icil.
I want not one by Heaven!
M. Icil.
Nor I.
C. Num.
Nor I.
P. Num.
Nor I.
And tho' this Hand by Age enfeebl'd shakes,
When lifted at proud Appius, 'twill be firm;
Or if it Trembles then, 'twill be for fear,
Least it should miss his Heart.
Val.
Let but the Tyrant come within my reach,
And if my nervous Hand then miss his Heart,
Like Scævola—the Traytor I'll disown,
And burn it Piece-meal from my honest Limbs.
M. Icil.
There spoke the Soul of Mucius; Appius dies.
All,
The Tyrant dies, he dies!
L. Icil.
Oh noble fury! Oh! the matchless Fire!
I hear in every Voice, and see in every Eye,
By Heaven Revenge, Revenge is to be had,
Vengeance, and Liberty, Children of Jove,
Down from their Native Sky, come hand in hand,
Our Gods, our Guardian Gods, are here amongst us.
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And let us kneel, and solemnly let's Swear.
Swear by the Gods of Rome, those very Gods
That are amongst us now, amongst us here,
Inspiring us with more than mortal Minds.
All.
Let's Swear.
[Kneel.
L. Icil.
By Romulus, the Founder of our Empire,
Now Great Quiriuns—our propitious God.
All.
We Swear.
L. Icil.
By Mars, whose Influence from so small a rise
Rais'd Rome to this Magnificence—
All.
We Swear.
L. Icil.
By Supreme Jove, the Stayer—who sav'd the State,
At Romulus's call, and has decreed
To make his Romans his Vicegerents here,
To Rule this under-world.
All.
We Swear.
L. Icil.
By all the Powers of Earth, and those of Hell,
By the Infernal King, the Fates, and Furies,
And by our Great Fore-father's mighty Shades,
By Brutus, by Horatius, by Poplicola,
Whose awful Ghosts we here invoke to rise,
And with their mighty Spirits fill our Minds;
We Swear, as here our Hands are join'd in one,
So shall our Daggers meet in Appius Heart,
As soon as here we have him in the Toyles.
All.
So shall our Daggers meet in Appius Heart,
As soon as here we have him in the Toyles.
[Rise.
P. Num.
The Tyrant will this guilty visit make
Unguarded, or attended by a few,
Howe'er, against the Worst we must provide;
Let each Man here alarm those faithful Friends,
Whom he can with the Fate of Rome entrust,
And introduce them to this place in Person,
And here, within an Hour, all meet again,
Icilius, only you must here remain
To comfort sad Virginia, and conceal
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Upon Virginius her Father's absence
And on his Ignorance of thy Return.
L. Icil.
'Tis done.
Now Night attended by Megæra rife,
And thy deep Silence, and thy dismal Shades
Redouble, while to th'infernal King
We offer up this dreadful Sacrifice.
Thou Rome, from thy Lethargick Slumber rowse,
And as the Mother of the Gods with Pride
And Joy her deathless Progeny Surveys;
Behold thy Godlike Sons assembl'd here,
And in their matchless Spirits, wondring fee,
Mars, and Great Jove, come down, to set thee free.
The End of the First ACT.
| Appius and Virginia | |