University of Virginia Library

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.