University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

CATILINE, ROSCIUS.
CATILINE.
The populace are all commotion;—yes,
A female rebel calls them openly
On to sedition; not a man is found
Her griefs have failed to move, her cries t'inflame.
None fear t'afford a shelter to the proscripts,
And Claudius, by a traitor warned of danger,
E'en now by flight insults his master's orders.

ROSCIUS.
What matters it he's cleared the walls of Rome?
Whether on barren rocks, in dreary caves,
Hate still pursues him; evil destiny
His only crime, and wheresoe'er he flies
The dogs of vengeance follow up their victim.

CATILINE.
Roscius is apt to feign unreal sorrows.

ROSCIUS.
Thou know'st, far better than I do, to ope
The source of grief—I but paint tyranny
To make it odious—as alike ambition
To shew its folly; and that vice, the more
Puff'd up by hateful triumph, till arrives
That hour, though late, with Heaven's full vengeance charged,
That hideous one of calumny.

CATILINE.
And so
'Tis thus that Roscius shews his profound wisdom;
Conscious suspicion ne'er can fall on him;
The senate, the Dictator too condemning,
Declares himself to-day the friend of faction,
And comes, relying on the people's favour,
Yea, rather adoration, to display
The virtues of the stage here in the forum.

ROSCIUS.
The scornful words just utter'd, and which ne'er
Before have stigmatized my name, are met
By Sylla's favour and by Cato's friendship.
In vain would Catiline pretend he knows not
The sentiments he here has heard me broach.
Plots I detest, and whosoe'er they be,
The authors of them—but I fear alike
The contrary, and hate informers; with
Disdain I see those hireling flatterers,
Consular slaves, deck'd out in faded purple,
Destroyers of their own all-hallowed altars,
In turn to Marius and to Sylla cringe,
Pursue a guiltless rival to his fate,
And force him to become a base accomplice.

CATILINE.
I would not know what mean thy words, but leave
Thy useless declamation its free course.
Ready in all things to obey the nod
Of Sylla whom I serve, I waste no time
In scrutinizing what I should oppose;
His interests alone I deem my right,
Nor stop to weigh it in the scales of justice.
What the Dictator wills is always just,
Claudius is proscript, Claudius must be guilty.
Thou wert thyself discovered in his house,
Ere break of day, planning his secret flight,
And hast, concealing his retreat, become
Th'accomplice of his treason: but, mark well,
It is my voice expounds the senate's fiat—
Answer—where is it Claudius bends his steps?

ROSCIUS.
Knew I but where myself, thou shouldst not know;
And thy perplexing doubts have well repaid
The injury thou hast done me—Go, denounce
My silence to the senate—I consent to't.
Tell them that Roscius, though the lictor's rod
Hangs o'er him, still is ready to repeat
Disgrace await th'informer!