University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

—A Chamber.
Enter Tubero and Barine.
BARINE.
Now Jupiter be prais'd! Is 't surely true?

TUBERO.
I tell thee 'tis most certain. Where's Cornelia?
I would fain tell her this good news.

BARINE.
Anon.
But say that Sylla's safe.

TUBERO.
Plague on thy twaddle;
Tedious old catechist! He's safe, though hurt—
Praise heaven! here comes Cornelia.
Enter Cornelia and Flavia.
Save you, ladies;
And may the gods vouchsafe you health and gladness
To welcome this great news.

CORNELIA.
What is 't, good Tubero?
Howe'er it touches me, for Rome I hope
Most salutary. How now, Flavia!—Girl!
Shame on thy coward cheeks! I trust our garlands
Shall shew a brighter colour. Nay, speak, Tubero.

TUBERO.
The Ambrones are destroyed. E'en now great Marius
Seems bent to fertilize the very soil
Of Rome with blood of her fierce enemies.
Mars never saw such slaughter. Women rush
Upon their husband's falchions; father's kill
Their children and then die; despair laughs loud,
As she had chang'd her nature at the sight;
And pity, as too weary to plead more,
Seems tired thro' very ruth—

CORNELIA.
And Sylla—

TUBERO.
He,
Thank Jove, is safe, tho' hurt;—but that's not much.

CORNELIA.
Great Jove be prais'd!—How was 't? Now tell us, Tubero.
Beshrew me, but she'll faint. Why, foolish girl!
Here, lean upon this shoulder.

FLAVIA.
Pardon me—Madam.

CORNELIA.
How was 't, good Tubero? Nay, speak.

TUBERO.
Good madam,
His wound is nothing; but 'tis said the youth
Who brings this news—plague on 't! his name?—Valerius,
Did venture far for Sylla, or there might
Have been sad eyes to-day.

CORNELIA.
Flavia!—this girl,
Methinks, would mar a triumph. Sylla's safe.
And if Valerius, whom we have well noted
As a well-govern'd youth, hath been the cause,
The greater cause for gladness.

FLAVIA.
'Tis so, madam.
But pray, you pardon me. A sudden joy
Doth sometimes shew like sadness.

CORNELIA.
Heed her not, Tubero,
She will be calm anon. Is there aught more?

TUBERO.
Not, that I know, good Madam. Young Valerius,
E'en now, doth pass with letters to the Senate,
Which haste and curiosity, ere this,
Have well assembled. Marius is to triumph;
That's certain. Hark!
[Distant shout.
The people throng the streets
To see Valerius pass, who scarce can pass
Mid the tumultuous joy.
[Louder shouts.
Hear you not, Flavia?
The rogues will deafen Jove! Will 't please you, madam,
To walk abroad and see the public joy?

CORNELIA.
We'll walk with you, good Tubero. Come, Flavia;
Sure now you're strong enough.
[Great shouting.
Hark how the plebs,
For ever in extremes, the very concave
Rend in hoarse acclamation. Well, well, Tubero,
The rogues have cause! Come, Flavia. Nay, good Tubero,
No ceremony pray you.

[They go out.

SCENE II.

—A Street in Rome.
Enter a crowd of Citizens, and then Tubero and Lictors.
FIRST CITIZEN.

Come, my masters, range yourselves—take order—
and let every man's cap and voice be ready to greet our
general.

SECOND CITIZEN.

Right: order, comrades! order! But first, by way
of practice, one cheer for the general, and then rank
and file. (They shout.)
Marius for ever! Now, take
order! Fall in, my masters; fall in, I tell you: this is
our ovation, as well as our general's triumph! Therefore
“Vox Populi” again! another cheer; and then
order!

[Shout.
TUBERO.
Make way here. Clear the streets. Why, gentlemen!
(Aside).
For all are gentlemen to-day. More 's pity!
(Aloud).
Why, gentlemen! will ye clog up the triumph
Your numbers come to grace! Nay, nay; stand back.
Marius is coming, and he will have way
Despite whoe'er could bar him.
[Distant shout.
Hear ye not?
Lictors make room for Marius.
(Aside.)
Oh! that Rome
Should have been made for Marius!— (Aloud).
Why, how now?
Lictors, I say, move on; and let the plebs
Make way for their own general.

FIRST CITIZEN.
What swaggerer is this? An if the underlings
Do fume and vapour thus, this Marius, Cacus-like,
Must carry fire in 's mouth, and will make Rome
Ere long too hot to hold him.

SECOND CITIZEN.
Hush! I tell you:
'Tis Tubero—a noble Roman; and
My patron. Hark you now. Pray you, my lord,
Is Marius near at hand?

TUBERO.
Nigh? God's-my-life!
He pass'd the mural breach, by th' Esquiline,
An hour ago.
[Trumpets, and distant shouts.
At hand? I think good friends,
You have your answer. Room, there; room for Marius!

Enter Marius, in triumphal proccession; Sylla, Valerius, Young Marius, Ctesiphon, Sulpicius, Saturninus, Lictors, Captives, &c. Cornelia and Flavia appear at a window. The People cry “Marius! Marius!”
MARIUS.
Thank you, my friends. This heart-felt salutation
O'erpays and leaves me debtor. I do pray you
To keep some kindness in reserve, and let me
Have hope to merit more. Lictors, move on;
And look that, as ye clear the way, no Roman
Do meet or harm or rudeness—thank you, friends.

[Shouts. Marius and Valerius passing over the stage.
YOUNG MARIUS
(aside to CTESIPHON.)
Quick! hither, Greek, and let thine idle eye
Fix on yond casement. Gods! did'st ever see
A charm like that to put out glory's blaze
And make a triumph poor?

CTESIPHON.
By heavens a pearl!
An unspeck'd diamond!

YOUNG MARIUS.
By heav'ns, a sunbeam,
Made to lend light to diamonds! if aught
Could ere reflect such beauty. Greek, I charge thee,
Thou eye her well.—Yet why? for Rome itself
Can only have one such—ev'n as the heav'ns
Have but one moon!—Oh! that my tongue had pow'r
To charm her from her sphere!
Lo! she hath noted us,
And even now retires—Oh! such a light
Should never set—

CTESIPHON.
My lord!—we must on; already
Eyes are upon us. Hark! (music)
the quire!—

YOUNG MARIUS.
Away!—
The frame may go, but here the soul must stay!

[They go out.

SCENE III.

—The Senate House. The Senate in their robes, with ivory wands.
CHORUS.

Enter Marius, Sylla, Tubero, Valerius, Young Marius, &c.
FIRST SENATOR.
Marius, all hail! I welcome thee, great Caius,
I' the Senate's name: and if 't were possible
That pain should be on such a day as this
In any Roman breast, it were in mine,
For that my tongue doth lack of resonance
To render e'en faint echo of the praise
And thanks that should reguerdon thee.
The Senate,
Not in their sole behoof, but as the voice
Of the whole public weal—of which they form
A fragment only—thank thee, Caius Marius!
Do thou wrap up in that one word what I
Would fain express, but cannot. More. In token
Of that, which is unsaid because unspeakable,
They crown thee here with that which never press'd
Brow, save such brow as thine,—the wreath of victory,
Giv'n by a grateful country. Thou hast won it;
And worthily. So wear it, Marius. 'Tis
The laurel; type of glory and of fame,
For both are bright and fadeless.

[Crowns Marius.
MARIUS.
Conscript fathers,
Elect and chosen of your country, Rome,
'Tis not for me—'tis not for any man,
To bandy phrases here, or plead unworthiness
In that which you deem worthy. I do thank ye,
That ye have honour'd me so far; not daring
To think I am o'er-honour'd, or that Rome,
Who warreth with the proud, could flatter Marius.
No more of this. Because no more becomes
Or me or you, the giver or receiver.
Short phrase the best becomes the rude of speech.
This then but let me say. If there be aught
Further that Rome commands of Caius Marius,
He is his country's servant.

Sylla
(aside to Tubero.)
Mark'd ye, Tubero?
Mark'd you the high Patrician o' the Plebs,
Th' aristocrat of the democracy?
His pride has grown a stadium! Oh, he's worthy:
The Senate's right enough!

FIRST SENATOR.
Next, noble Sylla,
The Senate turns to you. In praising Marius
Sylla is grac'd; for Sylla is but second
That Marius is the first; above compare
With aught that's less than Marius; yea and crown'd
With the same wreath undying.
But there's more.
Another wreath to show how Rome loves Sylla.
Stand forth, from 'midst the crowd, Publius Valerius.
(Valerius stands forward.)
For that thou shed'st thy blood to rescue this
For Rome, Rome's Senate hath, in gratitude,
Voted the oaken garland to Valerius.
Take it. 'Tis thine, young man.

VALERIUS.
Oh! had it hung
Above my urn, so Sylla were but safe,
It were too much of happiness and fame.

YOUNG MARIUS
(aside).
Ah! say'st thou so?—mark'd ye that, Ctesiphon?
By Jove, so say not I! We could have spar'd him!
Aye; marry!—and have deem'd the blood of Marius
Too good for such a ransom—

FIRST SENATOR.
Now, great Marius,
My last most pleasant task is but to say,
The Senate are your guests i' the Capitol;
And ere this day's auspicious sun hath set,
Will pour a rich libation to the Gods
For health to Marius: that he may once more
Be one of Rome's most Roman Consuls.
(Turning to the Senators.)
Rise,
Oh! Conscript Fathers. Welcome Caius Marius;
And joy attend his banquet!

[The Senators rise, and Marius and the rest pass over the stage, saluting them, and retire.
CHORUS.
The hour is past; the deed is done;
Their mighty thread the fates have wove;
No foeman sees to-morrow's sun,
Or 'tempts again Feretrian Jove:
Then welcome, Marius, welcome home!
Welcome to honour and to Rome!

[Scene closes.

SCENE IV.

—A Street in Rome.
Enter Young Marius and Ctesiphon, meeting.
YOUNG MARIUS.
Welcome! my learned scout. Thou lookest brightly,
Say, hast thou sped aright? Tell me but that,—
Then say what guerdon Rome can offer thee,
And thou shalt have 't. Nay, ne'er look doubtfully.
Shew me the neat, snug farm, by Tiber's side;
The fruitful vineyard; or the villa's shade
That takes thy fancy—and succeed in this,—
And (mark me)—it is thine! We are something now,
And Marius can do somewhat—

CTESIPHON.
Noble sir;
I have track'd her to her covert.

YOUNG MARIUS.
What, a word!—
Such gem should have a casket—aye, and of
The richest—for what veil were rich enough
To shroud such beauty?

CTESIPHON.
Call it what you will;
I know her Home. Comes that not home enough,
Howe'er it be entitled? Who, or what
The exquisite inmate is, as yet I have not
Obtain'd safe means of knowledge: for I would not
Risk overbold enquiry.

YOUNG MARIUS.
Thou didst right.
But art thou sure of this?

CTESIPHON.
As sure, my lord,
As ever Greek was sure of any thing
That cunning might unravel.

YOUNG MARIUS.
It is well.
For this good service thou art twice my friend,
And so shalt still be held. (Aside)
I 'll pay him double—
(Aloud)
Away, and learn the rest, for I 'm on fire.
Corrupt some slave. Use all thy languages,
For thou hast many—put forth all thine art;
And only compass this, and I shall call thee—

CTESIPHON.
What, my good lord?

YOUNG MARIUS
(aside).
The Polyglott of Pandars!
(Aloud)
“What” didst thou say? Why, thrice my friend; that 's all.
What else could I entitle thee?
We are cut short—
Enter Valerius.
Away, and speed—be sure on 't!
[Exit Ctesiphon.
Save you, comrade;
Why, thou look'st grave, methinks!

VALERIUS.
So do'st not thou.
Triumph, methinks, is written in that eye,
(Aside)
And pride upon that brow. (Aloud)
Come, we should bear
Success more gently.

YOUNG MARIUS.
Poh! what mean ye, sir?
I got no oaken garland—

VALERIUS.
Say thou did'st not;
Thou hast got something that can please as much,
Or else thy looks are liars.

YOUNG MARIUS.
So I have.
A prize the which to clutch methinks were worth
Another Marian triumph. Oh! 'tis not
The end of war that is the end indeed;
The end is that of which the trumpet speaks not;
The end is that of which your annals tell not;
The end is that which glory never names;
The end is that which even rapine recks not;
Below the famous, and above the base—
The choicest spoil of beauty. By the gods!
I had ne'er known that Marius quell'd the Cimber
Had I not known this hour!

VALERIUS
(aside).
What passion 's this
That stirs his nature thus; that nature never
Framed for such domination?
(Aloud)
Sir, you speak
Not like a man who humbly thanks the gods,
That he was born foredoom'd to serve his country;
But, like some robber, whom unlook'd-for fortune
Hath loosed to prey at large—unawed, untouch'd
By gratefulness or honour.

YOUNG MARIUS.
Hast turn'd Stoic,
In downright earnest, sweet Valerius?
Ha! ha! methinks I cannot chuse but laugh—!
Thou 'rt twenty years too young yet for the porch!
Hang up philosophy!

VALERIUS.
No man, I hope,
Can be too young for virtue.

YOUNG MARUIS.
Hang philosophy—
I tell thee! or, if needs't must be a Soph,
Take Epicurus! Psha!—Come! come with me,
I 'll shew thee that shall make thee convertite;
Or, if it fail, thy blood hath yet to learn
The wherefore it was risk'd! Come! Thou knows't Plato
Doth say 'tis good to contemplate on beauty.

VALERIUS.
What dos't thou mean?

YOUNG MARIUS.
Come with me and thou 'lt know.
I 'll shew thee, peradventure, a sweet bird,
Form'd to make Venus scorn her favourite dove.
Oh! if the song be equal to the hue—
And who can doubt it that hath eyes? I 'd not
Lose 't from my bosom for the Consulship
And all that Rome affords.

VALERIUS
(aside).
What can this mean?
Ev'n at his words I feel a chilly fire—
I know not what of shudd'ring feeling—creep
Thro' my whole frame.—I tremble with a fear
That knows not what it fears! Methought that Greek,
Who glided hence e'en now, snake-like, bore villany
Couch'd in his eye.

YOUNG MARIUS.
What 's all this reverie?
Art seeking Plato's precedent? I tell thee,
He says, 'tis wise e'en for philosophers
To know a handsome wench, if chance they see one!
Come; wilt thou go?

VALERIUS
(aside).
I feel a wild misgiving—
And yet it cannot be—this loose and libertine
Discourse alone would strike a kind of fear
In all who can love virtue;—and her beauty
Would awe such thoughts as these. It cannot be—
It is a baseless terror.

YOUNG MARIUS.
Come, philosopher!
I cannot wait for thy deep contemplations.
Wilt stay—or go?

VALERIUS.
No.

YOUNG MARIUS.
Why, farewell then!

VALERIUS.
Stop.—
(Aside)
Methought a voice did whisper me—“Stay not
And innocence in danger—wheresoe'er
That innocence may dwell.” (Aloud)
I will go with thee.

[Exeunt.