University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A sitting Apartment.
Cornelia and Flavia seated, the latter employed in some female occupation.
CORNELIA.
Flavia!—What, still intent? Beshrew me, girl!
Thou almost dost belie thy blood! How rest'st thou
At such a time as this?

FLAVIA.
And why not, madam?

CORNELIA.
Why not!—And yet the old Cornelian blood
Runs in thy veins! Well may it blush. Why, girl,
If thou canst rest at such an hour as this,
Thou hardly art my daughter.

FLAVIA.
Dearest madam,
And what of good should come of my unrest?

CORNELIA.
Good?—Foolish thing! 'Twas sure Barine's step,—
No, no—what, calm, when all is on the cast
And Rome looks hardly Roman! Gods preserve us,
Would Sylla were come back!
Enter Barine.
Barine! now,
What news?

BARINE.
What news? Oh! Madam, every hour
Brings in a worse report. They say the Cimber
Hath join'd the Ambron; and the desert sand,
Stirr'd to fierce action by the whirlwind's breath,
Outnumbers not their host. I heard a slave
Say that he talk'd with one who, some days back,
Pass'd o'er the plain where they had rested them:
'Twas trampled all, as if some mighty powers
Had met in battle to enslave the world,
And struggled foot to foot. Nor tree, nor bush,
Nor turf, nor greenling blade, for league on league,
But told their passage, prostrated and torn
In one wide devastation,—locust-like,
Where'er they sweep is ruin. Nay, 'tis said,
That when they shout, th' o'er winging birds drop down,
Stunn'd with that giant clamour.

CORNELIA.
What of Sylla?
Who is made general?

BARINE.
Nothing heard I, madam,
And nothing could I hear. The Senate sits
In anxious consultation; whilst the crowds
Toss names about, and bandy to and fro
Conjectures, hopes, and fears. Some talk of Sylla,
Some—

CORNELIA.
Peace! he 's here. Flavia, quick! hasten, girl—
Who enters?

FLAVIA
(returning).
It is only Tubero, madam.
Perchance he comes to tell of Sylla's coming.

BARINE
(aside).
Oh! “only Tubero, madam!”—He 's old and rich,
Valerius is poor and handsome, madam;
Bah!—these young fools!

CORNELIA.
What mutt'rest?

BARINE.
Nothing, madam.

[Exit.
Enter Tubero.
CORNELIA.
Health, Tubero!—We are anxious, all; what news?
Who 's general?

TUBERO.
The Senate has elected,
After long storm and pause, Marius.

CORNELIA.
What! Marius!
He! the Patrician of the Plebes! Marius;
That bear with gilded collar! Caius Marius!
Could Rome's patricians not afford a leader?
Is the wine drawn, or else the vintage spoil'd,
That we must strain the dregs? Now, by my life,
I'd taken sword and buckler first; aye—woman
E'en as I am—rather than this had been!

TUBERO.
Be patient, madam, pray you. Here is Sylla,
Your noble relative; and he will tell you
He gave his voice for Marius.

Enter Sylla.
SYLLA.
Save you, lady.

CORNELIA.
You are welcome, Sylla. But you had been more so
(For I must speak the truth) if that right hand
Had grasp'd the general's truncheon. Marius! Sylla!
I can't away with 't—Sylla after Marius!—
I cannot syllable 't.

SYLLA.
Take time, good lady;
We shall all learn.

TUBERO.
I fear, Cornelia never!
Patience is out of doors—and Caius dubb'd
“A bear—with gilded collar!”

SYLLA
(agitated).
He 's a soldier,
A tried one; that 's enough. Say he be rude
And rough of speech; say that his discipline
(And that it does I, who have felt it, say—)
Doth smack of times when Roman hardihood
Had felt not Greek refinement; yet, believe me,
With all his harshness, he is like that tree
Whose leaves embrown i' the sun; but, tho' rust-like,
Deep umber'd towards the torrid eye of day,
Are ever green beneath—
Nay! no more words.
What, know ye not when Scipio erst was ask'd
“Where Rome should find another general?”
He answered “Here—in Caius;” and by my soul,
She will. “Nobility!”—When fortune lours,
And kingdoms quake to th' centre, he who doth
His duty best 's your truest noble!

CORNELIA.
Sir;
You are warm.

SYLLA.
No—no.

CORNELIA.
And do you serve with him?

SYLLA.
I do. What then?

CORNELIA.
Only I hope you 'll profit
In such a noble school.

SYLLA.
I shall; no doubt on 't.
Madam, too much of this. Who serves his country
Cannot but profit. Tubero, time presses;
There is no hour to lose. If Marius close not
Ere that pale moon be old—aye, if he spring not
Upon the Cimber like the famish'd lion,
I know him not.
I shall sup here. Meantime,
See to our preparation. Thou knowest who
And where. Why dost thou pause?

TUBERO.
Only to say
Good even. And to hope that these bright eyes
Shall gaze on us the brighter that we come
All crown'd with garlands, and victorious home.

FLAVIA.
What Rome shall smile on ne'er shall make me frown.

TUBERO.
Fair patriot! I 'll take you at your word.
Perchance—.

SYLLA.
Come, Tubero, these soft enigmas
Suit not the time. Farewell!
[Exit Tubero.
Ladies, your hand.
Nay, madam, you shall smile. Next time, perchance,
I shall be general. Flavia!—nay! no tears!
When Rome shall weep, weep then.
Come, come; no weakness.

[Sylla leads them out.