University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

—A Street in Rome, somewhat dark.
Enter Ctesiphon, disguised, and Barine.
CTESIPHON.
Hear this, before thou goest. If thou art false,
And play'st the traitress with us, that dark dungeon,
In which Jugurtha famish'd, is thy lot,
As sure as Jove can thunder. Serve Young Marius,
And this is but an earnest of the bounty (gives money)

His gratitude shall heap on thee. Beware, then;
Thou 'rt counsell'd on both sides

BARINE.

Sir,—My Lord, Young Marius, and yourself may
rely on me. What I now have told you is sooth—he
shall find it to-night if he adventure. Only beware of
Sylla—you now know the kindred!

CTESIPHON.
We fear not Sylla. The time 's past for that,
I doubt thee not; but it is fit thou knowest
The penalty of doubt—so shalt thou be
The warier to ensure success. Now go,
Lest we should be observed; and be thou sure
To time the hour to a minute.

BARINE.
I am school'd;
The sun shall not be more exact than I.

CTESIPHON.
Then, fare thee well! and prosper, for thine own sake.
[Exit Barine.
These are the magnanimous Romans! these the Gods
Of the nether world!—By heaven! the very wolf,
Whose life is rapine, is not like to these.—
He teareth not his fellow, and will starve
E'er he lap kindred gore. While this fell libertine,
Whom fate doth seem to have set astride on fortune,
Must tear the heart of innocence, tho' that deed
Shall stab his very friend.
What's that to thee
Oh! Ctesiphon? Thou art no son of Rome.
Thy country hath been crush'd beneath the hoofs
Of these her ruthless brood; be it thy pastime,
Having made thee a slave, to see them slaves
To their own curbless passions; having torn
Thy heart, do thou help them to tear their own;
And laugh when they reward thee for such service,
Whom they have made unfit for any other.
Let no weak, womanish pity mar thy purpose.
This Marius doth revenge thy country, Greek;
Then be thou grateful; think thee of thy home;
He strikes for thee each blow he deals to Rome.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

—A Chamber in Cornelia's House.
Flavia
alone—she walks to the window.
This is the Roman holiday. The sky
Glares with the festal fires; unnumber'd feet
Throng to the lighted temples; and the crowds
With shows and shoutings, and the violent gusts
Of popular breath, do magnify their Consul;
While they of higher strain bless the great Fates
For our Rome's safety, and pour fresh libations
Of joy to the immortal Gods. Amid this tumult
Silence is mine. Methinks there hangs i' th' air
Some troubles yet which augurs tell not of,
Nor will the skies reveal. Sylla I've noted
With lip compress'd by inward struggling thoughts;
And on Valerius' brow—oh! guest too early
For such a mansion—care, methought, did sit
In spite of smiles.
[She pauses.
Hear me, O! purest Dian,
Who with unsandall'd foot dost print the snows,
But sulliest not their whiteness; at whose breath
Even the virgin rose shews transient blush
Throughout her unsunn'd leaves, woke by a sigh
Less warm than Zephyr's! Spread thy milk-white veil
Over thy votress; and still rampart her
Who is but strong in thee.

Enter Young Marius, guided by Barine.
BARINE.
Be not too sudden—

YOUNG MARIUS.
Go—and prate not, hag.
I am resolv'd;—and now, oh! Aphroditè,—
Now, Venus, Cythereà,—zoned queen,—
Lend music to my tongue, such as thou gav'st
The Syrens,—or did'st teach Endymion
To woo the ice-cold Moon! Is she not like thee
In all beside? Then, Venus, let that bosom
Beat in soft tune with thine. Now, Cupid, help me.
(Aloud.)
Such greeting as the tongue of love would give
To beauty such as thine, I give thee, lady,
In heart if not in breath.

FLAVIA.
Protect me, powers!
What man art thou? What means this dark intrusion?
Know'st thou that this is Rome? and know'st thou, sir,
These are a Roman matron's floors, whose threshold
Crime never pass'd,—since virtue ever guards it?
Unheralded thou com'st, a rude embassador,
Whatever be thine errand; so I treat thee.
I'll hear thee not;—begone!

YOUNG MARIUS.
That this is Rome,
Lady, methinks, I never learn'd till now.
Rome is the queen of cities. So she is,
Containing thee; which did she not, I wot
That boast might go elsewhere.
Nay, shun me not;
If 'tis a crime to kneel, where adoration
Is child of sweet necessity—if to love,
Where coldness were miraculous, be sin,—
Then must I suffer.

FLAVIA.
Insolent! Say, who art thou?

YOUNG MARIUS.
One can love beauty as it should be lov'd;
One can guard beauty as it should be guarded;
One who can seek it as it should be sought;
One can deserve it—when that it is won!
Oh! I have known ere now what passion is,
But not like this. E'en as the bridegroom rushes
To his bride's arms, so have I yearn'd to rush,
And, if need were, bid breath and blood go forth
Amid Rome's fiercest foes; yet, in that flame,
With hate and glory burning in my veins,
Ne'er did I feel such ardour as when now
I gaze upon those charms, and every glance
Seems call upon my manhood to be sure
The conquest shall be mine.
Nay, tremble not.
I that seem terrible, am but thy slave,
Whose life doth hang upon thee; and whose lip
Shall echo thy commands—whose love alone
Brooks not to be commanded; and thus claims thee
With a most gentle violence.

FLAVIA.
Unhand me,
Rash and unmanly ruffian. Thou a Roman!
Rome sure is sack'd, and the barbarian here,
Despite plebeian Marius!

YOUNG MARIUS.
(Aside.)
Hah!—so lofty?
By heavens I love her better for 't; and triumph
Is doubly sweet, dash'd with a smack of scorn.
(Aloud.)
Lady, I love thee, and in such a wise
As reason reaches not, and, therefore, seeming
Is not that which it seems. I venture all,
And I must have all, or I 've nothing won.
Now, help me, God of Love (struggles with her)
.

Enter Sylla.
SYLLA.
Whoe'er thou art,
That thus dar'st outrage aught pertains to Sylla,
Of name or nameless—ruffian violator;—
Slave—not of beauty, but thine own foul heart,
Thust do'st thou pay the forfeit!
[They fight and Sylla overcomes.
Enter Valerius.
Die, vile wretch!
Base of the base—plebeian of the plebs—
Dizzy with triumph—drunk with some small fame—
Go, hide thee in the grave.

[Marius is beaten down and disarmed.
VALERIUS.
Great Gods! 'Tis Sylla!
Oh! that I had two hearts, for one is torn
A thousand ways at once. I must be quick.
Oh! hold great sir—for your own sake, own honour,
I pray you shed not blood—such blood as that,
On such a night as this.

SYLLA.
The night becomes
The deed. The deed the blood!—and who art thou
That interlopest thus?

VALERIUS.
Oh! sir, my name
Is nought,—or else 'tis written on this wreath
Given to a youth men call Valerius;
Who 'cause he saved a greater than himself
Is just thus more than nothing. I do pray you,
Not for the sake of me—nor yet of him—
But for your own great honour, that you shed not
This blood—perchance too riotous—yet young,
And which may flow for Rome.

SYLLA.
Valerius!—
Young man, what chance hath sent thee here those powers
That guard us only know. Thy voice is fatal,
For doom is on it,—and as thou hast come,
Heaven knows to which side may the scale incline;
But thou hast come,—I pray thee so believe it,—
In a most happy or most heavy hour.
That wreath of thine, giv'n for prolonging mine,
Saves too this villain's breath. Take thy request.
I quit him: let him go: but without word
Or passage more; for if mine eye meet his,
Nought can delay the fate that 's on this hour.
Let him begone. I 'll speak to ye anon.

[Turns to Flavia.
YOUNG MARIUS
(aside).
If there be swords of poniards here in Rome,
And hands to use them—that will strike, for hate,
Or fear, or gold,—then will I be reveng'd!
This hour is his—my time is yet to come.
[Exit Young Marius.

SYLLA.
Why, pretty trembler! all is over now.
Be calm. 'Tis Sylla that now speaks to you.
Come, come!
Young man, is the plebeian gone?
I pray your pardon—'twas the deed I glanc'd at
And not the man. He is gone. The earth-sprung ruffian
Is not Antæus! Come, sir; come Valerius,
Take you this arm, and let us have some parley
Of this strange outrage. Nay; you're safe now, Flavia,
A warrior on each side, and crown'd ones too!
Come, come!—no more of trembling;—come!

[They lead Flavia in.

SCENE III.

—The Forum and Consul's chair.
Enter two Citizens, meeting.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Sergius; well met! hast heard the news?

SECOND CITIZEN.
What news?

FIRST CITIZEN.
The life of Sylla hath been foully lanced at
By hired assassins! set on, as 'tis said,
By these illustrious Marii, or, at least,
By Marius the younger, who doth rage
'Gainst Sylla, with all venom that together
And love and hate can mingle.

SECOND CITIZEN.
Love and hate!
For what? and whom?

FIRST CITIZEN.
For beauty; and 'gainst him
Would keep it from him! Hark! they 're here; to seek
For justice of the Consul! Now. Stand close!

Enter Tubero with a crowd of Citizens; Lictors drag in a chained Gladiator.
THIRD CITIZEN.
Bring him before him! bring him 'fore the Consul!
We will have justice.

[The crowd cry “Justice, justice!”
TUBERO.
There;—place him there. So. (Loudly.)
Caius Marius, Consul!—
The seat of justice is unfill'd, and Rome
Must wait for retribution. 'Twas not thus,
When Rome's patricians fill'd the Curule chair,
And consulship was duty. Oh! he comes;
We suitors are impatient!

Enter Marius and Young Marius. (He sits down; Young Marius stands beside him; the chair is guarded by Lictors and armed men.)
MARIUS.
Whosoe'er
Doth seek for justice—asking it of Rome—
For aught that Rome protects—here let him speak,
For here is justice.

SYLLA
(entering).
I am glad to hear it,
Lord Consul,—for, methinks—or I must err
Most grossly—Rome protects her citizens
In life and weal—aye, and the innocence
And honour of her matrons and her daughters.
No more o' that. It is no aim of mine
To stir the blood by artful preamble,
Or barter truth for words. I ask for justice.
My life hath been attempted by assassins,
By whom instruct I know not: tho', Lord Consul,
Haply, by your good zeal for law and justice,
That quest may be unravell'd.

MARIUS.
Set the man
Before me who has aim'd at this ill deed.
'Tis well.—Now, Lucius Sylla, let me ask,
For such a question justice sure exacts,
Was this a brawl? or stands this man accus'd
Of homicide premeditate—cold murder?

SYLLA.
Some ground of quarrel there was sought; no doubt:
That is most true—but sought premeditately.
I say premeditately, and to further
The ends of others;—for what quarrel, sir,
Could this man, this paid bravo, this kept ruffian,
This stall-fed gladiator, have with Sylla?
The wolf can have no quarrel with the lion,
For enmity asks some equality;
And 'tis concluded that the dog is mad
That bays the moon. This, therefore, is a tool
Of some, more great than he; and punishment,
Without enquiry, were but semi-justice.

MARIUS.
This is no inquisition. I sit here
As Consul, not accuser. Name the man,
Who hath conspired against you; bring your proof,
And justice shall be done. As for this fellow,
Methinks the Prætor should best deal with him,
He hardly fits the forum.

SYLLA.
Are the lives
Of Senators, men who have served their country,
Grown of so little value, that the Prætor
Is judge enough for such?
(Aside.)
Now, Jove, avenger!
My bosom bursts if 'tis not out?— (Aloud.)
No, sir,
I make my accusation 'fore the Consul.
The man, who hath conspired against me, stands,
Perhaps too near the judgment-seat; I say it,
For that his name is Marius!

YOUNG MARIUS.
It is false!
Your proofs?—Who knows, that yond man hath my gold?
Who knows from what patrician treasury
It came—perchance to foster some vile brawl,
And wreck the name of Marius? I deny
The baseless accusation.

MARIUS.
Lucius Sylla,
T' accuse a son before the judgment-seat,
On which the father sits, is somewhat harsh—
But let that pass. Yet still methinks the proofs,
In such a case, should not consist of words!
What visible motive—living evidence—
Are there for this? Produce them.

SYLLA.
Visible motive?—
That hatred which is ever child o' the sense
Of mercy undeserv'd. Ill clemency,
Requited by revenge. This man did violate
The threshold of a noble Roman lady.
I caught him in the deed—and I did spare him.

YOUNG MARIUS.
Gods! Is it then become a crime in Rome,
For Marius to o'er-step patrician thresholds?
Pardon me, sir;—perhaps, I did not know—
Perhaps, I had no reason to believe—
That I was so unwelcome!

MARIUS.
Silence, both!
I cannot listen to such controversies
As this appears to be.—
If you have proof
To shew my son did instigate this man,
Produce it. If not, I dismiss this cause.
Words weigh not here: nor sit I here to judge
Of a street brawl!

SYLLA.
Oh! Rome, dost thou hear this?
What, shall the sanctity of a matron's door
Be violate—and maiden innocence,
Worst sacrilege! shrink before ruffian rudeness,
And justice be denied us? Caius Marius!
Consul!
[Marius rises.
No Consul, but a would-be King,
Or worse than that, Dictator! I stand here
For justice. Justice is denied in Rome!
A Roman cannot find it!

CITIZENS.
You shall have it! Sylla! Sylla!
Down with the Dictator! Down with the Tarquin!

MARIUS.
Ho! Lictors, keep the peace. This is a plot.
Beat back the ruffians, Lictors! Am I Consul?
Or is this Rome?

[Sylla's friends draw, and the people join, shouting “Sylla! Sylla! Down with the Dictator!” Marius' party beaten in.
MARIUS.
Silence! ungrateful wolves! Here is my breast;
Pierce it, if 't be your pleasure. Nay, shrink not,
This bosom fears not falchions. It hath bled
Too often for you, and it shall not grieve
To end such office! Nay then, farewell! I leave ye
To the masters ye have chosen. Luxury
And Pride, perchance, may bring ye softer hearts;
And selfishness, that deifies e'en baseness,
Deserve the people's love; that people whom
It scorns too much to hate. So be it. I would not
Stay here to mix in civil broil. The world
Hath room enough; and Marius, like the swallow,
Can seek another spring. Follow, me boy.

[Exeunt Marius and his followers.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Drive them out at the gates!
Away with the Tarquins? Some guard Sylla home.

[All cry “Sylla! Sylla!”
SYLLA.
I thank you, generous Romans,
For this your kindness. Rome shall be Rome yet,
Or Sylla shall lie low. Friends, I am yours—
And oh! in after time remember this,
'Tis not for Pride that we now strike—but Justice.

[Exeunt Sylla and Citizens.