University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Verres's Palace.
RUBRIUS, APRONIUS, SESTIUS.
Rubrius.
Ha! our old harbinger! How is't, Apronius?

Apronius.
Glad you're arriv'd: How fare you, Rubrius?
Sestius, I'm yours; welcome to Lampsacus.

Sestius.
Thank you, Apronius: You arriv'd before us?

Apronius.
Ay, these ten days, to order your reception.
But where's the Legate, that I see him not?

Rubrius.
Reposing after the fatigue of journey.

Apronius.
Fatigue! why, his sedan steps with that smoothness,
So stuff'd with cushions, that he rather seems
To float upon the air, than move on earth.

Sestius.
You know his delicacy, to what height
He has improv'd that science, whose perfection
Consists in picking cause of discontent,
Fatigue, and disappointment, where we gross ones,
Thanks to our want of taste, meet satisfaction.

Rubrius.
Why, he was sour'd but at the last relay,
Because the country round about could furnish
Only some two poor bushels of fresh roses,
Hardly enough to arm his queasy sense
Against eight sturdy. Cappadocian slaves,
Who melted as they bore along his litter.

Apronius.
Well, are your purses cramm'd? You have not serv'd
Under so great a master in the art
Of plund'ring, to return with empty hands?

Sestius.
Ask Rubrius there, he is an able workman;
I'm but a 'prentice, and can only pilfer.

Rubrius.
Nothing to boast of, yet not much amiss.
The legate kept t'himself king Nicomedes,
As a right royal dish, and only serv'd
To his own mess, where we were not to feed:
And he has pick'd him to the bone, nay suck'd
His very marrow. Irus might be richer
Than Asia's monarch now.

Apronius.
At least in vermin.
I like your prudence; while you fleec'd the court,
But spar'd the people, you ensur'd their love.

Rubrius.
Ensur'd their love! say you? ensur'd their love!
If plague, war, famine, shipwreck may be lov'd,
Then we may have our share on't, and not else.

Sestius.
How stand your lists for pillage, and for women?
For let me tell you, he's sharp set on both.
You need not doubt but he'll inquire for them
Soon as he sees you.

Rubrius.
But, Apronius,
What is the present state of vice and villany
In Lampsacus?

Apronius.
In little, as at Rome,
The great are vicious openly, 'bove fear
Of the law's rod, which humbly bows before them,
As your mine-searchers say their hazle twig
Stoops to the latent gold beneath. Again,
The middle rank is vicious out of pride,
Copying the larger manners of their betters,
Ev'n till they swell their narrowness to bursting.
The trading sort are honest, their indentures
Invest them with the privilege to cozen us.

Sestius.
What no more honesty alive than this?

Apronius.
Alive! she died a beggar unreliev'd.

Rubrius.
So! we may fancy then ourselves at home,
Since vice stalks unreprov'd here.

Apronius.
Your philosophers
Subsist by daily holding forth against it,
And, in mere gratitude, at night indulge in it.

Sestius.
Apronius, you say nothing to the women.

Apronius.
Pooh! they are here, as in all other places.
Why, there's no variation in the sex
But what dress makes: their bodies stripp'd of that,
(And could one see their souls stripp'd of their bodies)
One could not know an empress from an housemaid.

Rubrius.
Now, you're severe—

Sestius.
Hush! here the legate comes.

SCENE II.

VERRES, APRONIUS, RUBRIUS, SESTIUS.
Verres.
Well, my good friends, how like you Lampsacus?
'Tis a brave city.—Art thou here, Apronius?
What my purveyor, the sutler to my pleasures?

Apronius,
bowing.
And sometimes to your profit.

Verres.
Name not profit
As yet. We only spread our sails tow'rds pleasure;
Thou look'st as if the wind blew prosp'rous thither.
Read me the bill of fare of beauty's feast,
That I may know where to direct my appetite,
Nor throw't away on ordinary diet.

Apronius.
For the first dish, I place upon your board
“Euridice, the wife of Aristippus,
[Reads.
“Barely eighteen; her husband some three-score:”
The fool dotes on her, and sticks closely to her;
A filthy slug on a delicious peach.
The crispness of her youth is green upon her,
Yet not to sourness, tho' improveable,
Like fruit another morning's sun had mellow'd.

Sestius.
[aside]
He should have kept his fruit for the dessert.

Rubrius.
[aside]
The rogue's description is so savoury,
That my mouth waters at it. Let's hear on.

Apronius.
But all this beauty fades its less'ning merit
In Erato's superior lustre dimm'd.

Verres.
Who is this Erato? when comes her turn?
I want to hear of her.

Apronius.
She is the daughter
Of the first man in Lampsacus, Philodamus.
She has a fair companion, call'd Euphemia,
Whose beauty borders upon competition.—

Rubrius.
D'ye hear, Apronius! I bespeak Euphemia.

Apronius.
Go hang, or learn to cater for yourself.
“The next is Psyche, wedded to Eubulus,
[Reads.
“Near upon thirty, tall, and rather plumpish.”
If she be past the gush and swell of beauty,
Is hard to say, so imperceptibly
Hath time blown o'er it, that 'twould make one think
He strove to mend it; as the rose smells sweeter
For being breath'd on, than before it opens.
Yet Erato, who blooms in balmy fragrance,
Subdues, like incense, all these weak perfumes.

Verres.
Why, tell me of them then? Proceed to Erato.

Apronius.
[Reads.
“Rhodè, the fair and witty wife of Lyco.”
Another may possess more regular features,
Or glow with richer tints from nature's pallette;
Yet where she comes, array'd in all her gaiety,
Her bursts of fancy, and her pleasing petulance,
Variety unweary'd plays about her,
And quite monopolizes all attention;
Till in the pow'rful witchcraft soon absorpt,
Superior beauties wane into neglect.
Except—

Verres.
Always excepting Erato,
For that I find's the burthen to thy song.
I'm all on fire! tell me of Erato.

Apronius.
I have a score behind—

Verres.
I'll hear no more.
Tell me of Erato! she must be mine.
My faithful pimp, hast thou devis'd the means
For me to meet this paragon of beauty?
Where? when? how soon? to-day? presently? now?

Apronius.
There lies the rub. That heav'nly form of hers
Does not start higher from the common level,
Than does her perfect purity of manners
Above the doubtful virtues of this age.

Rubrius.
Apronius! what hast thou to do with purity?
Thou seem'st to name it in a kind of rapture!

Apronius.
I am a rascal, else I should not be
Link'd to thy company. I practise villany,
But must esteem the virtues I don't imitate.

Sestius.
What! art thou subject to these moral fits?
How long do th'hold thee? dost thou mischief in them?

Verres.
Ye trifle, while my soul is on the rack
How to possess her, for I will possess her.
Can money purchase, or must flatt'ry win,
Or force convey her to my raptur'd arms?
Who has invention? let him merit of me
All he can ask, or wish, or I can give.
There's glory in the conquest, if we carry
This barricado'd virtue.

Apronius.
To my thoughts
All methods seem alike impracticable.
Better take up with one of those I've mention'd.
Had you not heard of her, you had embrac'd
One, tho' a meaner beauty, in your arms,
And thought her Ilia and Egeria,

Verres.
Villain! upon thy life, dare not suggest
The transfer of my passion from that object,
Where thou hast rivetted m' imagination.

Rubrius.
I have a lucky thought that comes across me.
Tho' I am quarter'd on a stately house,
Where pride and riches make a vain attempt
To pass upon the world for liberality,
That only virtue man can't counterfeit;
Yet my host views me with a niggard eye,
That means, Are you come here to eat me up?
Portending penury of hospitality.
Let this be your pretence for my removal
To the more ample station of Philodamus.
You, and your train, dine with me there to-day.
Who knows what opportunities may offer?
If none, why then the brave make opportunities.
Wine, and the gen'ral hurry of the feast,
Shall one inspire, t'other facilitate,
Some fortunate attempt to crown your wishes.

Verres.
Let me embrace thee, my best Rubrius.
Order a guard directly to the house.

Rubrius.
But, why a guard?

Verres.
Because, by the pretence
To do thee honour, we secure ourselves.
Tread you upon its heels, and I on yours.
Why, now success stretches his hand towards mine,
And gives me more than promises. Come on.

[Exeunt Verres and Rubrius.

SCENE III.

SESTIUS, APRONIUS.
Sestius.
'Twere wrong and dangerous to force the damsel.

Apronius.
Who has the moral fit upon him now?
Art thou a Roman, and decline a rape?
Dost thou not fear thy Sabine ancestress,
All pale, should start up from her urn, and chide
The dastard sp'rit of her degenerate son?
A rape in other nations may sound vile.—
In us, 'tis to commem'rate our progenitors.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Philodamus's House.
PHILODAMUS, EPICRATES, PHILIPPUS, ERATO, EUPHEMIA.
Philodamus.
Go, crown the houshold Gods with freshest flowers,
And hang the gay festoon on ev'ry column,
Bid my house laugh and imitate its owner.
I feel a joy equivalent to youth,
That dances at my heart. And to be joyful,
Is to be thankful to the gracious gods.
Come near, my children. You whom nature gave me,
Scarce dearer to me than these new acquir'd.
May all Heav'ns blessings light upon you all.

[Lays his hands on them.
Epicrates.
You have anticipated all in this:
Nor have you left me matter for a pray'r,
Save for continuance of the present happiness.

Philippus.
If you, my father, but from the reflection,
From the rebound of our content, perceive
Such warmth; think how our bosoms glow, on which
Felicity darts all her rays direct.

Philodamus.
[To the women.
Lost in deep thought! I have observ'd it often,
That any unexpected flow of joy
Borrows from grief its very mien and aspect,
And seems to sadden more than chear the heart.

Erato.
My thoughts were but petitions to high Heaven,
That such benignity might long preside
O'er all the happiness it has dispens'd.

Euphemia.
Mine, that a life entire of strict attention,
All care, and all affection, still must leave me
Bankrupt in duty to you.

Philodamus.
This I sought not.
I thank you all, however; most, the Gods;
Who have allow'd me to behold my children
Plac'd to my wish: and now I reach the hour
I long have ey'd at distance with desire,
Wherein to shift life's bus'ness from my shoulders,
And sport with the remainder of my days;
As one, who, all his baggage put on board,
Saunters, and plays with ev'ry shell and pebble
He meets upon the beach, till the wind veer,
And then puts off, when summon'd, without hurry.
I feel that I have leisure now to die.

Erato.
My dearest father, shun th'ill-omen'd word:
Nor draw a cloud 'thwart this solemnity,
With the sad thought, of, what the Gods avert!

Philodamus.
I only mean, my child, my work is done;
The ball wound up of all I had to do.
And as to dying—if this very day
It were to happen, why, I've liv'd enough.

Epicrates.
Why chuse this subject in these happy moments
Which gaiety and joy claim for their own?

Philodamus.
Th'Aruspex and the Augur! let us hear them.
Enter Aruspex and Augur.
Walk in. Have you perform'd the sacrifice?

Aruspex.
We have: and our litation was most perfect.
The flame upon the altar, bright and vivid,
Aspir'd to Heaven, and wreath'd its dancing point.
With scarce a groan the placid victim fell.
The form, sight, and complexion of the entrails
Auspicious all, without one threat'ning fibre.

Philodamus.
What says your observation?

Augur.
Accurately,
The Heav'ns we quarter'd, and remark'd the flight
Of ev'ry wing that wander'd thro' the air,
Listen'd to all that spoke to divination.
Num'rous the omens on the happy side,
Naught on the adverse that might derogate.
And to confirm and ratify the whole,
The eagle wheel'd him in a thousand rings,
Floating upon his wide-expanded vans;
Far on the left, in the blue sky serene
The thunder roll'd, disarm'd of all its fires.

Philodamus.
What draw ye from the whole?

Aruspex.
To all here present
Long years of happiness that crowd tow'rds light.

Augur.
To you, old age; to these a num'rous progeny.

Philodamus.
Call in the Minstrels, and begin the rites.
Enter Minstrells.
Hark ye, my friends, give me some decent hymn;
None of those licences, too oft permitted,
Rather encourag'd at these times, which turn
A nuptial feast into a brothel riot.

Minstrel.
We know our place too well.

Philodamus.
So then, begin.
And you, my gentle children, while they chaunt
The deity presiding over marriage,
Conceive your vows, heaping the grateful altar
With incense, that shall waft them up to Heaven.

Epithalamium.
For two Womens Voices.
1st voice.
Hymen, oh Hymen,

2d voice.
Haste, haste, Hesperus,

Both.
Thy decent steps/beaming lamp advance,
Love already chides thy stay

1st voice.
Lead on the graceful dance:

2d voice.
Shut, ah! shut ungrateful day.

1st voice.
Hymen, oh Hymen.
Man, yet a savage stray'd,
And but of brutes the first;
By liberty was wretched made,
By love itself was curs'd.
Now violence alone employs
To heap his feast, and quench his cruel joys.

2d voice.
Haste, haste, Hesperus.
Unwillingly you shone,
And beautified the night;
While lust and rapine wak'd alone,
And bay'd thy silver light.
An uncouth world enjoy'd thy toil,
And man uncultur'd as his parent soil.

1st voice.
Hymen, oh Hymen.
Till at Jove's high behest
Thou ledd'st thy comely choir;
Order, and Right, behind thee prest,
And temperate Desire;
The social Duties round thee stood,
Link'd in the chains of amity and blood.

2d voice.
Haste, haste, Hesperus.
Oh loveliest of stars—

[Ends abrupt, on Cornelius entering with a Roman guard.
Philodamus.
Suspend the song. What means this Roman guard?
Retire, my daughters, till we know the cause.

[Exeunt women and all the attendants.
Philippus.
Ye are mistaken. Do ye know this house,
And where its owner ranks in Lampsacus?

Cornelius.
Saxa, and Rufus! Yonder is your guard.
No, no, there's no mistake. Yours, Mutius,
With these three others, all that colonnade.
The rest are ready planted. No mistake;
I know your house and rank, and know my orders.

Philippus.
[Low to Philodamus.
Let me but drive these fellows out of doors—

Philodamus.
Rash boy, forbear. These fellows are our masters.

Epicrates.
But the indignity—

Philodamus.
Are you a boy too?

Cornelius.
Be not alarm'd. I only follow orders,
And am plac'd here to honour Rubrius,
Who comes to take his quarters in your house.

Epicrates.
Why, this is not an inn for ev'ry comer
Who chuses to set up his staff in it.

Philippus.
A consul, or a prætor have found here
Worthy reception. Legate never claim'd
Such privilege, much less a legate's follower.

Philodamus.
Be still; 'tis not this honest soldier's fault.
Pray, tell me, friend, who is this Rubrius?

Cornelius.
To tell you the plain truth, he's one of those,
(We've quantity enough of them at Rome),
By hanging on the great, who's learn'd their manners,
Or rather overacts: at first admitted
For low buffooneries and mean submissions,
For being either any thing or nothing,
Receiv'd, rejected, feasted, sent on errands,
Their fool, companion, pimp, friend, slave, and equal;
Grown by degrees so necessary to them,
They recollect not their own manufacture,
But ev'n strike sail to'm, when he holds his head up,
As all such do, and higher than their masters,
This sword here earns me coarser bread, but honester.

Philodamus.
A guest indeed, who does me mighty honour!
The legate must have err'd thro' ignorance
Of my condition, and I go t'explain it.

[Going.
Cornelius.
With all my heart. I'll obey any orders.

Enter SOLDIER.
Rubrius comes.

Cornelius.
What, ho! Stand to your guard.

[Exit.
Philodamus.
So very quick! why, this is done on purpose
To make complaint too slow.

[Returning.
Philippus.
'Tis not too late
To shut the door in's face, give me but leave.

Philodamus.
Stay, madman! nor provoke bad things to worse,
Since we are slaves, why do we talk like freemen?
All that is left us, is submission.

Epicrates.
Surely
You won't—

Philippus.
No, sure, you won't, my father—

Philodamus.
Yes, but I will, and more. Upon your duties;
You shall absent you from my house the while.
I know your indignation and high spirits.
Would you renew the Lapithean fray,
And mingle wine with blood? No arguing.

Epicrates.
I only wish you have no need of us.

Philippus.
We may conduct the women to his house?

Philodamus.
Not glaring in the streets, amid the populace.
At close of evening I'll convey them to you.
Farewell, now disappear, I hear a bustle.

[Exeunt Epicrates and Philippus.
Guard,
within.
Stand by.

Second Guard.
Stand by, there!

Philodamus.
Now for my best face,
That it mark no resentment to my guest.

SCENE V.

Rubrius.
Trust me, Philodamus, it grieves me much
To be a burthen to you! but the legate,
Thinking the Roman dignity infring'd
By the faint splendour where I last was station'd,
Has order'd this remove.

Philodamus.
The case is new,
But we obey th'injunction of our lords.
Pray, think this house your own. Nay, it is so:
And that it might afford ampler reception,
This instant I have sent away my son.

Rubrius,
eagerly.
You have not sent away your daughter, too?

Philodamus.
That needed not! you know her range of chambers
Can never interfere with these apartments.

Rubrius.
Your house is royal—(I suppose this door
Leads to th'apartment of the women.)

Philodamus.
No,
This on the left.

Rubrius.
—And I shall not disgrace it
By those I've bid; the Legate and his train
Will dine here! he was close behind. He comes.

[Horns.
Philodamus.
And in right time. I think the table's serv'd.
Haste we to meet him.

Rubrius.
I attend upon you.

[Exeunt.