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Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed | |
Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net | |
THE | |
INFLEXIBLE CAPTIVE: | |
A TRAGEDY. | |
IN FIVE ACTS. | |
AS IT WAS ACTED AT THE | |
THEATRE ROYAL, AT BATH. | |
The man resolv'd, and steady to his trust, | |
Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just. | |
* * * * * | |
Drawn from: | |
THE | |
WORKS | |
OF | |
HANNAH MORE. | |
VOL. II. | |
LONDON | |
PRINTED FOR T. CADELL, STRAND | |
1830. | |
* * * * * | |
TO | |
THE HONOURABLE | |
MRS. BOSCAWEN. | |
MY DEAR MADAM, | |
It seems somewhat extraordinary that although with persons of great | |
merit and delicacy no virtue stands in higher estimation than truth, | |
yet, in such an address as the present, there would be some danger | |
of offending them by a strict adherence to it; I mean by uttering | |
truths so generally acknowledged, that every one, except the person | |
addressed, would acquit the writer of flattery. And it will be a | |
singular circumstance to see a Dedication without praise, to a lady | |
possessed of every quality and accomplishment which can justly entitle | |
her to it. | |
I am, | |
MY DEAR MADAM, | |
With great respect, | |
your most obedient, | |
and very obliged humble servant, | |
THE AUTHOR. | |
THE ARGUMENT. | |
Among the great names which have done honour to antiquity in general, | |
and to the Roman Republic in particular, that of Marcus Attilius Regulus | |
has, by the general consent of all ages, been considered as one of the | |
most splendid, since he not only sacrificed his labours, his liberty, | |
and his life for the good of his country, but by a greatness of soul, | |
almost peculiar to himself, contrived to make his very misfortunes | |
contribute to that glorious end. | |
After the Romans had met with various successes in the first Punic | |
war, under the command of Regulus, victory at length declared for the | |
opposite party, the Roman army was totally overthrown, and Regulus | |
himself taken prisoner, by Xantippus, a Lacedaemonian General in the | |
service of the Carthaginians: the victorious enemy exulting in so | |
important a conquest, kept him many years in close imprisonment, and | |
loaded him with the most cruel indignities. They thought it was now | |
in their power to make their own terms with Rome, and determined to | |
send Regulus thither with their ambassador, to negotiate a peace, or | |
at least an exchange of captives, thinking he would gladly persuade | |
his countrymen to discontinue a war, which necessarily prolonged his | |
captivity. They previously exacted from him an oath to return should his | |
embassy prove unsuccessful; at the same time giving him to understand, | |
that he must expect to suffer a cruel death if he failed in it; this | |
they artfully intimated as the strongest motive for him to leave no | |
means unattempted to accomplish their purpose. | |
At the unexpected arrival of this venerable hero, the Romans expressed | |
the wildest transports of joy, and would have submitted to almost | |
any conditions to procure his enlargement; but Regulus, so far from | |
availing himself of his influence with the Senate to obtain any personal | |
advantages, employed it to induce them to reject proposals so evidently | |
tending to dishonour their country, declaring his fixed resolution to | |
return to bondage and death, rather than violate his oath. | |
He at last extorted from them their consent; and departed amidst the | |
tears of his family, the importunites of his friends, the applauses of | |
the Senate, and the tumultuous opposition of the people; and, as a great | |
poet of his own nation beautifully observes, "he embarked for Carthage | |
as calm and unconcerned as if, on finishing the tedious law-suits of his | |
clients, he was retiring to Venafrian fields, or the sweet country of | |
Tarentum." | |
* * * * * | |
==> This piece is, in many parts, a pretty close imitation of the | |
_Attilio Regolo_ of Metastasio, but enlarged and extended into a tragedy | |
of five acts. Historical truth has in general been followed, except in | |
some less essential instances, particularly that of placing the return | |
of Regulus to Rome posterior to the death of his wife. The writer | |
herself never considered the plot as sufficiently bustling and dramatic | |
for representation. | |
PROLOGUE. | |
WRITTEN BY THE REV. DR. LANGHORNE. | |
Deep in the bosom of departed days, | |
Where the first gems of human glory blaze; | |
Where, crown'd with flowers, in wreaths immortal drest, | |
The sacred shades of ancient virtue rest; | |
With joy they search, who joy can feel, to find | |
Some honest reason still to love mankind. | |
There the fair foundress of the scene to-night | |
Explores the paths that dignify delight; | |
The regions of the mighty dead pervades; | |
The Sibyl she that leads us to the shades. | |
O may each blast of ruder breath forbear | |
To waft her light leaves on the ruthless air, | |
Since she, as heedless, strives not to maintain | |
This tender offspring of her teeming brain! | |
For this poor birth was no provision made, | |
A flower that sprung and languish'd in the shade. | |
On Avon's banks, forsaken and forlorn, | |
This careless mother left her elder born; | |
And though unlike what Avon hail'd of yore, | |
Those giant sons that Shakspeare's banners bore, | |
Yet may we yield this little offspring grace, | |
And love the last and least of such a race. | |
Shall the strong scenes, where senatorial Rome, | |
Mourn'd o'er the rigour of her patriot's doom; | |
Where melting Nature aw'd by Virtue's eye, | |
Hid the big drop, and held the bursting sigh; | |
Where all that majesty of soul can give, | |
Truth, Honour, Pity, fair Affection live; | |
Shall scenes like these, the glory of an age, | |
Gleam from the press, nor triumph on the stage? | |
Forbid it, Britons! and, as Romans brave, | |
Like Romans boast one citizen to save. | |
DRAMATIS PERSONAE. | |
REGULUS, _Mr. Henderson._ | |
PUBLIUS, his Son, _Mr. Dimond._ | |
MANLIUS, the Consul, _Mr. Blisset._ | |
LICINIUS, a Tribune, _Mr. Brown._ | |
HAMILCAR, the Carthaginian } _Mr. Rowbotham._ | |
Ambassador, } | |
ATTILIA, daughter of Regulus, _Miss Mansell._ | |
BARCE, a Carthaginian captive, _Miss Wheeler._ | |
Guards, Lictors, People, &c. | |
SCENE--_Near the Gates of Rome._ | |
THE INFLEXIBLE CAPTIVE. | |
ACT I. | |
SCENE--_A Hall in the Consul's Palace._ | |
_Enter_ LICINIUS, ATTILIA, _Lictors and People_. | |
_Lic._ Attilia waiting here? Is't possible? | |
Is this a place for Regulus's daughter? | |
Just gods! must that incomparable maid | |
Associate here with Lictors and Plebeians? | |
_At._ Yes, on this threshold patiently I wait | |
The Consul's coming; I would make him blush | |
To see me here his suitor. O Licinius, | |
This is no time for form and cold decorum; | |
Five lagging years have crept their tedious round, | |
And Regulus, alas! is still a slave, | |
A wretched slave, unpitied, and forgotten; | |
No other tribute paid his memory, | |
Than the sad tears of his unhappy child; | |
If _she_ be silent, who will speak for Regulus? | |
_Lic._ Let not her sorrows make my fair unjust. | |
Is there in Rome a heart so dead to virtue | |
That does not beat in Regulus's cause? | |
That wearies not the gods for his return? | |
That does not think all subjugated Afric | |
A slender, unimportant acquisition, | |
If, in return for this extended empire, | |
The freedom of thy father be the purchase? | |
These are the feelings of Imperial Rome; | |
My own, it were superfluous to declare. | |
For if _Licinius_ were to weigh his merit, | |
That he's _thy father_ were sufficient glory. | |
He was my leader, train'd me up to arms; | |
And if I boast a spark of Roman honour, | |
I owe it to _his_ precepts and _his_ virtues. | |
_At._ And yet I have not seen Licinius stir. | |
_Lic._ Ah! spare me thy reproaches--what, when late | |
A private citizen, could I attempt? | |
'Twas not the lust of power, or pride of rank, | |
Which made me seek the dignity of tribune; | |
No, my Attilia, but I fondly hop'd | |
'Twould strengthen and enforce the just request | |
Which as a _private_ man I vainly urg'd; | |
But now, the people's representative, | |
I shall _demand_, Attilia, to be heard. | |
_At._ Ah! let us not too hastily apply | |
This dang'rous remedy; I would not rouse | |
Fresh tumults 'twixt the people and the senate: | |
Each views with jealousy the idol, Power, | |
Which, each possessing, would alike abuse. | |
What one demands the other still denies. | |
Might _I_ advise you, try a gentler method; | |
I know that every moment Rome expects | |
Th' ambassador of Carthage, nay, 'tis said | |
The Conscript Fathers are already met | |
To give him audience in Bellona's temple. | |
There might the Consul at my suit, Licinius, | |
Propose the ransom of my captive father. | |
_Lic._ Ah! think, Attilia, who that Consul is, | |
Manlius, thy father's rival, and his foe: | |
His ancient rival, and his foe profess'd: | |
To hope in him, my fair, were fond delusion. | |
_At._ Yet though his rival, Manlius is a _Roman_: | |
Nor will he think of private enmities, | |
Weigh'd in the balance with the good of Rome: | |
Let me at least make trial of his honour. | |
_Lic._ Be it so, my fair! but elsewhere make thy suit; | |
Let not the Consul meet Attilia _here_, | |
Confounded with the refuse of the people. | |
_At._ Yes, I will see him _here_, e'en _here_, Licinius. | |
Let _Manlius_ blush, not _me_: _here_ will I speak, | |
_Here_ shall he answer me. | |
_Lic._ Behold he comes. | |
_At._ Do thou retire. | |
_Lic._ O bless me with a look, | |
One parting look at least. | |
_At._ Know, my Licinius, | |
That at this moment I am all the _daughter_, | |
The filial feelings now possess my soul, | |
And other passions find no entrance there. | |
_Lic._ O sweet, yet powerful influence of virtue, | |
That charms though cruel, though unkind subdues, | |
And what was love exalts to admiration! | |
Yes, 'tis the privilege of souls like thine | |
To conquer most when least they aim at conquest. | |
Yet, ah! vouchsafe to think upon Licinius, | |
Nor fear to rob thy father of his due; | |
For surely virtue and the gods approve | |
Unwearied constancy and spotless love. | |
[_Exit_ LICINIUS. | |
_Enter_ MANLIUS. | |
_At._ Ah! Manlius, stay, a moment stay, and hear me. | |
_Man._ I did not think to meet thee here, Attilia; | |
The place so little worthy of the guest. | |
_At._ It would, indeed, have ill become Attilia, | |
While still her father was a Roman citizen; | |
But for the daughter of a slave to Carthage, | |
It surely is most fitting. | |
_Man._ Say, Attilia, | |
What is the purpose of thy coming hither! | |
_At._ What is the purpose, patience, pitying heaven! | |
Tell me, how long, to Rome's eternal shame, | |
To fill with horror all the wond'ring world, | |
My father still must groan in Punic chains, | |
And waste the tedious hours in cruel bondage? | |
Days follow days, and years to years succeed, | |
And Rome forgets her hero, is content | |
That Regulus be a forgotten slave. | |
What is his crime? is it that he preferr'd | |
His country's profit to his children's good? | |
Is it th' unshaken firmness of his soul, | |
Just, uncorrupt, and, boasting, let me speak it, | |
Poor in the highest dignities of Rome? | |
O glorious poverty! illustrious crime! | |
_Man._ But know, Attilia---- | |
_At._ O have patience with me. | |
And can ungrateful _Rome_ so soon forget? | |
Can those who breathe the air _he_ breath'd forget | |
The great, the godlike virtues of my father? | |
There's not a part of Rome but speaks his praise. | |
The _streets_--through them the _hero_ pass'd triumphant: | |
The _Forum_--there the _Legislator_ plann'd | |
The wisest, purest laws:--_the Senate House_-- | |
There spoke the _patriot Roman_--there his voice | |
Secur'd the public safety: Manlius, yes; | |
The wisdom of his councils match'd his valour. | |
Enter the _Temples_--mount the _Capitol_-- | |
And tell me, Manlius, to what hand but _his_ | |
They owe their trophies, and their ornaments. | |
Their foreign banners, and their boasted ensigns, | |
Tarentine, Punic, and Sicilian spoils? | |
Nay, e'en those lictors who precede thy steps, | |
This Consul's purple which invests thy limbs, | |
All, all were Regulus's, were my father's. | |
And yet this hero, this exalted patriot, | |
This man of virtue, this immortal Roman, | |
In base requital for his services, | |
Is left to linger out a life in chains, | |
No honours paid him but a daughter's tears. | |
O Rome! O Regulus! O thankless citizens! | |
_Man._ Just are thy tears:--thy father well deserves them; | |
But know thy censure is unjust, Attilia. | |
The fate of Regulus is felt by all: | |
We know and mourn the cruel woes he suffers | |
From barbarous Carthage. | |
_At._ Manlius, you mistake; | |
Alas! it is not Carthage which is barbarous; | |
'Tis Rome, ungrateful Rome, is the barbarian; | |
Carthage but punishes a foe profess'd, | |
But Rome betrays her hero and her father: | |
Carthage remembers how he slew her sons, | |
But Rome forgets the blood he shed for _her_: | |
Carthage revenges an acknowledged foe, | |
But Rome, with basest perfidy, rewards | |
The glorious hand that bound her brow with laurels. | |
Which now is the barbarian, Rome or Carthage? | |
_Man._ What can be done? | |
_At._ A woman shall inform you. | |
Convene the senate; let them strait propose | |
A ransom, or exchange for Regulus, | |
To Africa's ambassador. Do this, | |
And heaven's best blessings crown your days with peace. | |
_Man._ Thou speakest like a _daughter_, I, Attilia, | |
Must as a _Consul_ act; I must consult | |
The good of Rome, and with her good, her glory. | |
Would it not tarnish her unspotted fame, | |
To sue to Carthage on the terms thou wishest? | |
_At._ Ah! rather own thou'rt still my father's foe. | |
_Man._ Ungen'rous maid! no fault of mine concurr'd | |
To his destruction. 'Twas the chance of war. | |
Farewell! ere this the senate is assembled---- | |
My presence is requir'd.----Speak to the fathers, | |
And try to soften _their_ austerity; | |
_My_ rigour they may render vain, for know, | |
I am Rome's _Consul_, not her _King_, Attilia. | |
[_Exit_ MANLIUS _with the lictors, &c._ | |
_At._ (_alone._) | |
This flattering hope, alas! has prov'd abortive. | |
One Consul is our foe, the other absent. | |
What shall the sad Attilia next attempt? | |
Suppose I crave assistance from the people! | |
Ah! my unhappy father, on what hazards, | |
What strange vicissitudes, what various turns, | |
Thy life, thy liberty, thy all depends! | |
_Enter_ BARCE (_in haste_). | |
_Barce._ Ah, my Attilia! | |
_At._ Whence this eager haste? | |
_Barce._ Th' ambassador of Carthage is arriv'd. | |
_At._ And why does _that_ excite such wondrous transport? | |
_Barce._ I bring another cause of greater still. | |
_At._ Name it, my Barce. | |
_Barce._ _Regulus_ comes with him. | |
_At._ My father! can it be? | |
_Barce._ Thy father----Regulus. | |
_At._ Thou art deceiv'd, or thou deceiv'st thy friend. | |
_Barce._ Indeed I saw him not, but every tongue | |
Speaks the glad tidings. | |
_Enter_ PUBLIUS. | |
_At._ See where Publius comes. | |
_Pub._ My sister, I'm transported! Oh, Attilia, | |
He's here, our father----Regulus is come! | |
_At._ I thank you, gods: O my full heart! where is he? | |
Hasten, my brother, lead, O lead me to him. | |
_Pub._ It is too soon: restrain thy fond impatience. | |
With Africa's ambassador he waits, | |
Until th' assembled senate give him audience. | |
_At._ Where was he Publius when thou saw'st him first? | |
_Pub._ You know, in quality of Roman quaestor, | |
My duty 'tis to find a fit abode | |
For all ambassadors of foreign states. | |
Hearing the Carthaginian was arriv'd, | |
I hasten'd to the port, when, O just gods! | |
No foreigner, no foe, no African | |
Salutes my eye, but Regulus----my father! | |
_At._ Oh mighty joy! too exquisite delight! | |
What said the hero? tell me, tell me all, | |
And ease my anxious breast. | |
_Pub._ Ere I arriv'd, | |
My father stood already on the shore, | |
Fixing his eyes with anxious eagerness, | |
As straining to descry the Capitol. | |
I saw, and flew with transport to embrace him, | |
Pronounc'd with wildest joy the name of father-- | |
With reverence seiz'd his venerable hand, | |
And would have kiss'd it; when the awful hero, | |
With that stern grandeur which made Carthage tremble, | |
Drew back--stood all collected in himself, | |
And said austerely, Know, thou rash young man, | |
That _slaves_ in _Rome_ have not the rights of _fathers_. | |
Then ask'd, if yet the senate was assembled, | |
And where? which having heard, without indulging | |
The fond effusions of his soul, or mine, | |
He suddenly retir'd. I flew with speed | |
To find the Consul, but as yet success | |
Attends not my pursuit. Direct me to him. | |
_Barce._ Publius, you'll find him in Bellona's temple. | |
_At._ Then Regulus returns to Rome a slave! | |
_Pub._ Yes, but be comforted; I know he brings | |
Proposals for a peace; his will's his fate. | |
_At._ Rome may, perhaps, refuse to treat of peace. | |
_Pub._ Didst thou behold the universal joy | |
At his return, thou wouldst not doubt success. | |
There's not a tongue in Rome but, wild with transport, | |
Proclaims aloud that Regulus is come; | |
The streets are filled with thronging multitudes, | |
Pressing with eager gaze to catch a look. | |
The happy man who can descry him first, | |
Points him to his next neighbour, he to his; | |
Then what a thunder of applause goes round; | |
What music to the ear of filial love! | |
Attilia! not a Roman eye was seen, | |
But shed pure tears of exquisite delight. | |
Judge of my feelings by thy own, my sister. | |
By the large measure of thy fond affection, | |
Judge mine. | |
_At._ Where is Licinius? find him out; | |
My joy is incomplete till he partakes it. | |
When doubts and fears have rent my anxious heart, | |
In all my woes he kindly bore a part: | |
Felt all my sorrows with a soul sincere, | |
Sigh'd as I sigh'd, and number'd tear for tear: | |
Now favouring heav'n my ardent vows has blest, | |
He shall divide the transports of my breast. | |
[_Exit_ ATTILIA. | |
_Pub._ Barce, adieu! | |
_Barce._ Publius, a moment hear me. | |
Know'st thou the name of Africa's ambassador? | |
_Pub._ Hamilcar. | |
_Barce._ Son of Hanno? | |
_Pub._ Yes! the same. | |
_Barce._ Ah me! Hamilcar!--How shall I support it! [_Aside._ | |
_Pub._ Ah, charming maid! the blood forsakes thy cheek: | |
Is he the rival of thy Publius? speak, | |
And tell me all the rigour of my fate. | |
_Barce._ Hear me, my Lord. Since I have been thy slave, | |
Thy goodness, and the friendship of Attilia, | |
Have soften'd all the horrors of my fate. | |
Till now I have not felt the weight of bondage. | |
Till now--ah, Publius!--think me not ungrateful, | |
I would not wrong thee--I will be sincere-- | |
I will expose the weakness of my soul. | |
Know then, my Lord--how shall I tell thee all? | |
_Pub._ Stop, cruel maid, nor wound thy Publius more; | |
I dread the fatal frankness of thy words: | |
Spare me the pain of knowing I am scorn'd; | |
And if thy heart's devoted to another, | |
Yet do not tell it me; in tender pity | |
Do not, my fair, dissolve the fond illusion, | |
The dear delightful visions I have form'd | |
Of future joy, and fond exhaustless love. | |
[_Exit_ PUBLIUS. | |
_Barce._ (_alone._) | |
And shall I see him then, see my Hamilcar, | |
Pride of my soul, and lord of all my wishes? | |
The only man in all our burning Afric | |
Who ever taught my bosom how to love! | |
Down, foolish heart! be calm, my busy thoughts! | |
If at his name I feel these strange emotions, | |
How shall I see, how meet my conqueror? | |
O let not those presume to judge of joy | |
Who ne'er have felt the pangs which absence gives. | |
Such tender transport those alone can prove, | |
Who long, like me, have known disastrous love; | |
The tears that fell, the sighs that once were paid, | |
Like grateful incense on his altar laid; | |
The lambent flame rekindle, not destroy, | |
And woes remember'd heighten present joy. [_Exit._ | |
ACT II. | |
SCENE--_The inside of the Temple of Bellona--Seats for the | |
Senators and Ambassadors--Lictors guarding the entrance._ | |
MANLIUS, PUBLIUS, _and Senators_. | |
_Man._ Let Regulus be sent for to our presence; | |
And with him the ambassador of Carthage. | |
Is it then true the foe would treat of peace? | |
_Pub._ They wish, at least, our captives were exchang'd, | |
And send my father to declare their wish: | |
If he obtain it, well: if not, then Regulus | |
Returns to meet the vengeance of the foe, | |
And pay for your refusal with his blood: | |
He ratified this treaty with his oath, | |
And ere he quitted Carthage, heard, unmov'd, | |
The dreadful preparations for his death, | |
Should he return. O, Romans! O, my countrymen! | |
Can you resign your hero to your foe? | |
Say, can you give up Regulus to Carthage? | |
_Man._ Peace, Publius, peace, for see thy father comes. | |
_Enter_ HAMILCAR _and_ REGULUS. | |
_Ham._ Why dost thou stop? dost thou forget this temple? | |
I thought these walls had been well known to Regulus? | |
_Reg._ Hamilcar! I was thinking what I was | |
When last I saw them, and what now I am. | |
_Ham._ (_to the Consul._) | |
Carthage by me to Rome this greeting sends, | |
That wearied out at length with bloody war, | |
If Rome inclines to peace she offers it. | |
_Man._ We will at leisure answer thee. Be seated. | |
Come, Regulus, resume thine ancient place. | |
_Reg._ (_pointing to the Senators._) Who then are these? | |
_Man._ The Senators of Rome. | |
_Reg._ And who art thou? | |
_Man._ What meanst thou? I'm her Consul; | |
Hast thou so soon forgotten Manlius? | |
_Reg._ And shall a _slave_ then have a place in Rome | |
Among her Consuls and her Senators? | |
_Man._ Yes!--For her _heroes_ Rome forgets her _laws_; | |
Softens their harsh austerity for thee, | |
To whom she owes her conquests and her triumphs. | |
_Reg._ Rome may forget, but Regulus remembers. | |
_Man._ Was ever man so obstinately good? [_Aside._ | |
_Pub._ (_rising._) Fathers! your pardon. I can sit no longer. | |
[_To the Senators._ | |
_Reg._ Publius, what dost thou mean? | |
_Pub._ To do my duty: | |
Where Regulus must stand, shall Publius sit? | |
_Reg._ Alas! O Rome, how are thy manners chang'd! | |
When last I left thee, ere I sail'd for Afric, | |
It was a crime to think of private duties | |
When public cares requir'd attention.----Sit, | |
(_To_ PUBLIUS.) And learn to occupy thy place with honour. | |
_Pub._ Forgive me, sir, if I refuse obedience: | |
My heart o'erflows with duty to my father. | |
_Reg._ Know, Publius, that duty's at an end; | |
Thy father died when he became a slave. | |
_Man._ Now urge thy suit, Hamilcar, we attend. | |
_Ham._ Afric hath chosen Regulus her messenger. | |
In him, both Carthage and Hamilcar speak. | |
_Man._ (_to_ REGULUS.) We are prepar'd to hear thee. | |
_Ham._ (_to_ REGULUS.) Ere thou speak'st, | |
Maturely weigh what thou hast sworn to do, | |
Should Rome refuse to treat with us of peace. | |
_Reg._ What I have sworn I will fulfil, Hamilcar. | |
Be satisfied. | |
_Pub._ Ye guardian gods of Rome, | |
With your own eloquence inspire him now! | |
_Reg._ Carthage by me this embassy has sent: | |
If Rome will leave her undisturb'd possession | |
Of all she now enjoys, she offers _peace_; | |
But if you rather wish protracted war, | |
Her next proposal is, _exchange of captives_;---- | |
If you demand advice of _Regulus_, | |
Reject them both! | |
_Ham._ What dost thou mean? | |
_Pub._ My father! | |
_Man._ Exalted fortitude! I'm lost in wonder. [_Aside._ | |
_Reg._ Romans! I will not idly spend my breath, | |
To show the dire effects of such a peace; | |
The foes who beg it, show their dread of war. | |
_Man._ But the exchange of prisoners thou proposest? | |
_Reg._ That artful scheme conceals some Punic fraud. | |
_Ham._ Roman, beware! hast thou so soon forgotten; | |
_Reg._ I will fulfil the treaty I have sworn to. | |
_Pub._ All will be ruin'd. | |
_Reg._ Conscript Fathers! hear me.---- | |
Though this exchange teems with a thousand ills, | |
Yet 'tis th' example I would deprecate. | |
This treaty fix'd, Rome's honour is no more. | |
Should her degenerate sons be promis'd life, | |
Dishonest life, and worthless liberty, | |
Her glory, valour, military pride, | |
Her fame, her fortitude, her all were lost. | |
What honest captive of them all would wish | |
With shame to enter her imperial gates, | |
The flagrant scourge of slavery on his back? | |
None, none, my friends, would wish a fate so vile, | |
But those base cowards who resign'd their arms | |
Unstain'd with hostile blood, and poorly sued, | |
Through ignominious fear of death, for bondage; | |
The scorn, the laughter, of th' insulting foe. | |
O shame! shame! shame! eternal infamy! | |
_Man._ However hurtful this _exchange_ may be, | |
The liberty, the life of Regulus, | |
More than compensates for it. | |
_Reg._ Thou art mistaken.---- | |
This Regulus is a mere mortal man, | |
Yielding apace to all th' infirmities | |
Of weak, decaying nature.----I am old, | |
Nor can my future, feeble services | |
Assist my country much; but mark me well: | |
The young fierce heroes you'd restore to Carthage, | |
In lieu of this old man, are her chief bulwarks. | |
Fathers! in vig'rous youth this well-strung arm | |
Fought for my country, fought and conquer'd for her: | |
That was the time to prize its service high. | |
Now, weak and nerveless, let the foe possess it, | |
For it can harm them in the field no more. | |
Let Carthage have the poor degrading triumph | |
To close these failing eyes;--but, O my countrymen! | |
Check their vain hopes, and show aspiring Afric | |
That heroes are the common growth of Rome. | |
_Man._ Unequall'd fortitude. | |
_Pub._ O fatal virtue! | |
_Ham._ What do I hear? this constancy confounds me. | |
_Man._ (_to the Senators._) | |
Let honour be the spring of all our actions, | |
Not interest, Fathers. Let no selfish views | |
Preach safety at the price of truth and justice. | |
_Reg._ If Rome would thank me, I will teach her how. | |
--Know, Fathers, that these savage Africans | |
Thought me so base, so very low of soul, | |
That the poor wretched privilege of breathing, | |
Would force me to betray my country to them. | |
Have these barbarians any tortures left | |
To match the cruelty of such a thought? | |
Revenge me, Fathers! and I'm still a Roman. | |
Arm, arm yourselves, prepare your citizens, | |
Snatch your imprison'd eagles from their fanes, | |
Fly to the shores of Carthage, force her gates, | |
Dye every Roman sword in Punic blood-- | |
And do such deeds--that when I shall return, | |
(As I have _sworn_, and am resolv'd to do,) | |
I may behold with joy, reflected back, | |
The terrors of your rage in the dire visages | |
Of my astonish'd executioners. | |
_Ham._ Surprise has chill'd my blood! I'm lost in wonder! | |
_Pub._ Does no one answer? must my father perish? | |
_Man._ Romans, we must defer th' important question; | |
Maturest councils must determine on it. | |
Rest we awhile:----Nature requires some pause | |
From high-rais'd admiration. Thou, Hamilcar, | |
Shalt shortly know our final resolution. | |
Meantime, we go to supplicate the gods. | |
_Reg._ Have you a doubt remaining? Manlius, speak. | |
_Man._ Yes, Regulus, I think the danger less | |
To lose th' advantage thy advice suggests, | |
Than would accrue to Rome in losing thee, | |
Whose wisdom might direct, whose valour guard her. | |
Athirst for glory, thou wouldst rush on death, | |
And for thy country's sake wouldst greatly perish. | |
Too vast a sacrifice thy zeal requires, | |
For Rome must bleed when Regulus expires. | |
[_Exeunt Consul and Senators._ | |
_Manent_ REGULUS, PUBLIUS, HAMILCAR; _to them | |
enter_ ATTILIA _and_ LICINIUS. | |
_Ham._ Does Regulus fulfil his promise thus? | |
_Reg._ I've promis'd to return, and I will do it. | |
_At._ My father! think a moment. | |
_Lic._ Ah! my friend! | |
_Lic. and At._ O by this hand we beg---- | |
_Reg._ Away! no more. | |
Thanks to Rome's guardian gods I'm yet a slave! | |
And will be still a slave to make Rome free! | |
_At._ Was the exchange refus'd? Oh ease my fears. | |
_Reg._ Publius! conduct Hamilcar and myself | |
To that abode thou hast for each provided. | |
_At._ A foreign residence? a strange abode? | |
And will my father spurn his household gods? | |
_Pub._ My sire a stranger?----Will he taste no more | |
The smiling blessings of his cheerful home? | |
_Reg._ Dost thou not know the laws of Rome forbid | |
A foe's ambassador within her gates? | |
_Pub._ This rigid law does not extend to thee. | |
_Reg._ Yes; did it not alike extend to all, | |
'Twere tyranny.--The law rights every man, | |
But favours none. | |
_At._ Then, O my father, | |
Allow thy daughter to partake thy fate! | |
_Reg._ Attilia! no. The present exigence | |
Demands far other thoughts, than the soft cares, | |
The fond effusions, the delightful weakness, | |
The dear affections 'twixt the child and parent. | |
_At._ How is my father chang'd, from what I've known him! | |
_Reg._ The fate of Regulus is chang'd, not Regulus. | |
I am the same; in laurels or in chains | |
'Tis the same principle; the same fix'd soul, | |
Unmov'd itself, though circumstances change. | |
The native vigour of the free-born mind | |
Still struggles with, still conquers adverse fortune; | |
Soars above chains, invincible though vanquish'd. | |
[_Exeunt_ REGULUS _and_ PUBLIUS. | |
ATTILIA, HAMILCAR _going; enter_ BARCE. | |
_Barce._ Ah! my Hamilcar. | |
_Ham._ Ah! my long-lost Barce: | |
Again I lose thee; Regulus rejects | |
Th' exchange of prisoners Africa proposes. | |
My heart's too full.--Oh, I have much to say! | |
_Barce._ Yet you unkindly leave me, and say nothing. | |
_Ham._ Ah! didst thou love as thy Hamilcar loves, | |
Words were superfluous; in my eyes, my Barce, | |
Thou'dst read the tender eloquence of love, | |
Th' uncounterfeited language of my heart. | |
A single look betrays the soul's soft feelings, | |
And shows imperfect speech of little worth. | |
[_Exit_ HAMILCAR. | |
_At._ My father then conspires his own destruction, | |
Is it not so? | |
_Barce._ Indeed I fear it much; | |
But as the senate has not yet resolv'd, | |
There is some room for hope: lose not a moment; | |
And, ere the Conscript Fathers are assembled, | |
Try all the powers of winning eloquence, | |
Each gentle art of feminine persuasion, | |
The love of kindred, and the faith of friends, | |
To bend the rigid Romans to thy purpose. | |
_At._ Yes, Barce, I will go; I will exert | |
My little pow'r, though hopeless of success. | |
Undone Attilia! fall'n from hope's gay heights | |
Down the dread precipice of deep despair. | |
So some tir'd mariner the coast espies, | |
And his lov'd home explores with straining eyes; | |
Prepares with joy to quit the treacherous deep, | |
Hush'd every wave, and every wind asleep; | |
But ere he lands upon the well-known shore, | |
Wild storms arise, and furious billows roar, | |
Tear the fond wretch from all his hopes away, | |
And drive his shatter'd bark again to sea. | |
ACT III. | |
SCENE--_A Portico of a Palace without the gates of | |
Rome--The abode of the Carthaginian Ambassador_. | |
_Enter_ REGULUS _and_ PUBLIUS _meeting_. | |
_Reg._ Ah! Publius here at such a time as this? | |
Know'st thou th' important question that the Senate | |
This very hour debate?--Thy country's glory, | |
Thy father's honour, and the public good? | |
Dost thou know this and fondly linger here? | |
_Pub._ They're not yet met, my father. | |
_Reg._ Haste--away-- | |
Support my counsel in th' assembled Senate, | |
Confirm their wav'ring virtue by thy courage, | |
And Regulus shall glory in his boy. | |
_Pub._ Ah! spare thy son the most ungrateful task. | |
What!--supplicate the ruin of my father? | |
_Reg._ The good of Rome can never hurt her sons. | |
_Pub._ In pity to thy children, spare thyself. | |
_Reg._ Dost thou then think that mine's a frantic bravery? | |
That Regulus would rashly seek his fate? | |
Publius! how little dost thou know thy sire! | |
Misjudging youth! learn, that like _other_ men, | |
I shun the _evil_, and I seek the _good_; | |
But _that_ I find in _guilt_, and _this_ in _virtue_. | |
Were it not guilt, guilt of the blackest die, | |
Even to _think_ of freedom at th' expense | |
Of my dear bleeding country? To me, therefore, | |
Freedom and life would be the heaviest evils; | |
But to preserve that country, to restore her, | |
To heal her wounds though at the price of _life_, | |
Or what is dearer far, the price of liberty, | |
Is _virtue_--therefore slavery and death | |
Are Regulus's good--his wish--his choice. | |
_Pub._ Yet sure our country---- | |
_Reg._ Is a _whole_, my Publius, | |
Of which we all are _parts_; nor should a citizen | |
Regard his interests as distinct from hers; | |
No hopes or fears should touch his patriot soul, | |
But what affect her honour or her shame. | |
E'en when in hostile fields he bleeds to save her, | |
'Tis not _his_ blood he loses, 'tis his _country's_; | |
He only pays her back a debt he owes. | |
To her he's bound for birth and education: | |
Her laws secure him from domestic feuds, | |
And from the foreign foe her arms protect him. | |
She lends him honours, dignity, and rank, | |
His wrongs revenges, and his merit pays; | |
And like a tender and indulgent mother, | |
Loads him with comforts, and would make his state | |
As blest as nature and the gods design'd it. | |
Such gifts, my son, have their alloy of _pain_; | |
And let th' unworthy wretch who will not bear | |
His portion of the public burden lose | |
Th' advantages it yields;--let him retire | |
From the dear blessings of a social life, | |
And from the sacred laws which guard those blessings; | |
Renounce the civilis'd abodes of man, | |
With kindred brutes one common shelter seek | |
In horrid wilds, and dens, and dreary caves, | |
And with their shaggy tenants share the spoil; | |
Or if the savage hunters miss their prey, | |
From scatter'd acorns pick a scanty meal;-- | |
Far from the sweet civilities of life; | |
There let him live and vaunt his wretched freedom: | |
While we, obedient to the laws that guard us, | |
Guard _them_, and live or die as they decree. | |
_Pub._ With reverence and astonishment I hear thee! | |
Thy words, my father, have convinc'd my reason, | |
But cannot touch my heart:--nature denies | |
Obedience so repugnant. I'm a son. | |
_Reg._ A poor excuse, unworthy of a Roman! | |
Brutus, Virginius, Manlius--they were fathers. | |
_Pub._ 'Tis true, they were; but this heroic greatness, | |
This glorious elevation of the soul, | |
Has been confin'd to fathers.--Rome, till now, | |
Boasts not a son of such unnatural virtue, | |
Who, spurning all the powerful ties of blood, | |
Has labour'd to procure his father's death. | |
_Reg._ Then be the first to give the great example-- | |
Go, hasten; be thyself that son, my Publius. | |
_Pub._ My father! ah!-- | |
_Reg._ Publius, no more; begone-- | |
Attend the Senate--let me know my fate; | |
'Twill be more glorious if announc'd by thee. | |
_Pub._ Too much, too much thy rigid virtue claims | |
From thy unhappy son. Oh, nature, nature! | |
_Reg._ Publius! am I a stranger, or thy father? | |
In either case an obvious duty waits thee: | |
If thou regard'st me as an alien here, | |
Learn to prefer to mine the good of Rome; | |
If as a father--reverence my commands. | |
_Pub._ Ah! couldst thou look into my inmost soul, | |
And see how warm it burns with love and duty, | |
Thou would'st abate the rigour of thy words. | |
_Reg._ Could I explore the secrets of thy breast, | |
The virtue I would wish should flourish there | |
Were fortitude, not weak, complaining love. | |
_Pub._ If thou requir'st my _blood_, I'll shed it all; | |
But when thou dost enjoin the harsher task | |
That I should labour to procure thy death, | |
Forgive thy son--he has not so much virtue. | |
[_Exit_ PUBLIUS. | |
_Reg._ Th' important hour draws on, and now my soul | |
Loses her wonted calmness, lest the Senate | |
Should doubt what answer to return to Carthage. | |
O ye protecting deities of Rome! | |
Ye guardian gods! look down propitious on her, | |
Inspire her Senate with your sacred wisdom, | |
And call up all that's Roman in their souls! | |
_Enter_ MANLIUS (_speaking_). | |
See that the lictors wait, and guard the entrance-- | |
Take care that none intrude. | |
_Reg._ Ah! Manlius here? | |
What can this mean? | |
_Man._ Where, where is Regulus? | |
The great, the godlike, the invincible? | |
Oh, let me strain the hero to my breast.-- | |
_Reg._ (_avoiding him._) | |
Manlius, stand off, remember I'm a slave! | |
And thou Rome's Consul. | |
_Man._ I am something more: | |
I am a man enamour'd of thy virtues; | |
Thy fortitude and courage have subdued me. | |
I _was_ thy _rival_--I am _now_ thy _friend_; | |
Allow me that distinction, dearer far | |
Than all the honours Rome can give without it. | |
_Reg._ This is the temper still of noble minds, | |
And these the blessings of an humble fortune. | |
Had I not been a _slave_, I ne'er had gain'd | |
The treasure of thy friendship. | |
_Man._ I confess, | |
Thy grandeur cast a veil before my eyes, | |
Which thy reverse of fortune has remov'd. | |
Oft have I seen thee on the day of triumph, | |
A conqueror of nations, enter Rome; | |
Now, thou hast conquer'd fortune, and thyself. | |
Thy laurels oft have mov'd my soul to envy, | |
Thy chains awaken my respect, my reverence; | |
Then Regulus appear'd a hero to me, | |
He rises now a god. | |
_Reg._ Manlius, enough. | |
Cease thy applause; 'tis dang'rous; praise like thine | |
Might tempt the most severe and cautious virtue. | |
Bless'd be the gods, who gild my latter days | |
With the bright glory of the Consul's friendship! | |
_Man._ Forbid it, Jove! said'st thou thy _latter_ days? | |
May gracious heav'n to a far distant hour | |
Protract thy valued life! Be it _my_ care | |
To crown the hopes of thy admiring country, | |
By giving back her long-lost hero to her. | |
I will exert my power to bring about | |
Th' exchange of captives Africa proposes. | |
_Reg._ Manlius, and is it thus, is this the way | |
Thou dost begin to give me proofs of friendship? | |
Ah! if thy love be so destructive to me, | |
What would thy hatred be? Mistaken Consul! | |
Shall I then lose the profit of my wrongs? | |
Be thus defrauded of the benefit | |
I vainly hop'd from all my years of bondage? | |
I did not come to show my chains to Rome, | |
To move my country to a weak compassion; | |
I came to save her _honour_, to preserve her | |
From tarnishing her glory; came to snatch her | |
From offers so destructive to her fame. | |
O Manlius! either give me proofs more worthy | |
A Roman's friendship, or renew thy hate. | |
_Man._ Dost thou not know, that this exchange refus'd, | |
Inevitable death must be thy fate? | |
_Reg._ And has the name of _death_ such terror in it, | |
To strike with dread the mighty soul of Manlius? | |
'Tis not _to-day_ I learn that I am mortal. | |
The foe can only take from Regulus | |
What wearied nature would have shortly yielded; | |
It will be now a voluntary gift, | |
'Twould then become a tribute seiz'd, not offer'd. | |
Yes, Manlius, tell the world that as I liv'd | |
For Rome alone, when I could live no longer, | |
'Twas my last care how, dying, to assist, | |
To save that country I had liv'd to serve. | |
_Man._ O unexampled worth! O godlike Regulus! | |
Thrice happy Rome! unparalleled in heroes! | |
Hast thou then sworn, thou awfully good man, | |
Never to bless the Consul with thy friendship? | |
_Reg._ If thou wilt love me, love me like a _Roman_. | |
These are the terms on which I take thy friendship. | |
We both must make a sacrifice to Rome, | |
I of my life, and thou of _Regulus_: | |
One must resign his being, one his friend. | |
It is but just, that what procures our country | |
Such real blessings, such substantial good, | |
Should cost thee something--I shall lose but little. | |
Go then, my friend! but promise, ere thou goest, | |
With all the Consular authority, | |
Thou wilt support my counsel in the Senate. | |
If thou art willing to accept these terms, | |
With transport I embrace thy proffer'd friendship. | |
_Man._ (_after a pause._) Yes, I do promise. | |
_Reg._ Bounteous gods, I thank you! | |
Ye never gave, in all your round of blessing, | |
A gift so greatly welcome to my soul, | |
As Manlius' friendship on the terms of honour! | |
_Man._ Immortal Powers! why am not I a slave? | |
By heav'n! I almost envy thee thy bonds. | |
_Reg._ My friend, there's not a moment to be lost; | |
Ere this, perhaps, the Senate is assembled. | |
To thee, and to thy virtues, I commit | |
The dignity of Rome--my peace and honour. | |
_Man._ Illustrious man, farewell! | |
_Reg._ Farewell, my friend! | |
_Man._ The sacred flame thou hast kindled in my soul | |
Glows in each vein, trembles in every nerve, | |
And raises me to something more than man. | |
My blood is fir'd with virtue, and with Rome, | |
And every pulse beats an alarm to glory. | |
Who would not spurn a sceptre when compar'd | |
With chains like thine? Thou man of every virtus, | |
O, farewell! may all the gods protect and bless thee. | |
[_Exit_ MANLIUS. | |
_Enter_ LICINIUS. | |
_Reg._ Now I begin to live; propitious heaven | |
Inclines to favour me.----Licinius here? | |
_Lic._ With joy, my honour'd friend, I seek thy presence. | |
_Reg._ And why with joy? | |
_Lic._ Because my heart once more | |
Beats high with flattering hope. In thy great cause | |
I have been labouring. | |
_Reg._ Say'st thou in _my_ cause? | |
_Lic._ In thine and Rome's. Does it excite thy wonder? | |
Couldst thou, then, think so poorly of Licinius, | |
That base ingratitude could find a place | |
Within his bosom?--Can I, then, forget | |
Thy thousand acts of friendship to my youth? | |
Forget them, too, at that important moment | |
When most I might assist thee?--Regulus, | |
Thou wast my leader, general, father--all. | |
Didst thou not teach me early how to tread | |
The path of glory; point the way thyself, | |
And bid me follow thee? | |
_Reg._ But say, Licinius, | |
What hast thou done to serve me? | |
_Lic._ I have defended | |
Thy liberty and life! | |
_Reg._ Ah! speak--explain.-- | |
_Lic._ Just as the Fathers were about to meet, | |
I hasten'd to the temple--at the entrance | |
Their passage I retarded by the force | |
Of strong entreaty: then address'd myself | |
So well to each, that I from each obtain'd | |
A declaration, that his utmost power | |
Should be exerted for thy life and freedom. | |
_Reg._ Great gods! what do I hear? Licinius, too? | |
_Lic._ Not he alone; no, 'twere indeed unjust | |
To rob the fair Attilia of her claim | |
To filial merit.--What I could, I did. | |
But _she_--thy charming daughter--heav'n and earth, | |
What did she not to save her father? | |
_Reg._ Who? | |
_Lic._ Attilia, thy belov'd--thy age's darling! | |
Was ever father bless'd with such a child? | |
Gods! how her looks took captive all who saw her! | |
How did her soothing eloquence subdue | |
The stoutest hearts of Rome! How did she rouse | |
Contending passions in the breasts of all! | |
How sweetly temper dignity with grief! | |
With what a soft, inimitable grace | |
She prais'd, reproach'd, entreated, flatter'd, sooth'd. | |
_Reg._ What said the Senators? | |
_Lic._ What could they say? | |
Who could resist the lovely conqueror? | |
See where she comes--Hope dances in her eyes, | |
And lights up all her beauties into smiles. | |
_Enter_ ATTILIA. | |
_At._ Once more, my dearest father---- | |
_Reg._ Ah, presume not | |
To call me by that name. For know, Attilia, | |
I number _thee_ among the foes of Regulus. | |
_At._ What do I hear? thy foe? my father's foe? | |
_Reg._ His worst of foes--the murd'rer of his glory. | |
_At._ Ah! is it then a proof of enmity | |
To wish thee all the good the gods can give thee, | |
To yield my life, if needful, for thy service? | |
_Reg._ Thou rash, imprudent girl! thou little know'st | |
The dignity and weight of public cares. | |
Who made a weak and inexperienc'd _woman_ | |
The arbiter of Regulus's fate? | |
_Lic._ For pity's sake, my Lord! | |
_Reg._ Peace, peace, young man! | |
Her silence better than thy language pleads. | |
_That_ bears at least the semblance of repentance. | |
Immortal Powers!----a daughter and a Roman! | |
_At._ Because I _am_ a daughter, I presum'd---- | |
_Lic._ Because I _am_ a Roman, I aspired | |
T' oppose th' inhuman rigour of thy fate. | |
_Reg._ No more, Licinius. How can he be call'd | |
A Roman who would live in infamy? | |
Or how can she be Regulus's daughter | |
Whose coward mind wants fortitude and honour? | |
Unhappy children! now you make me _feel_ | |
The burden of my chains: your feeble souls | |
Have made me know I am indeed a slave. | |
[_Exit_ REGULUS. | |
_At._ Tell me, Licinius, and, oh! tell me truly, | |
If thou believ'st, in all the round of time, | |
There ever breath'd a maid so truly wretched? | |
To weep, to mourn a father's cruel fate-- | |
To love him with soul-rending tenderness-- | |
To know no peace by day or rest by night-- | |
To bear a bleeding heart in this poor bosom, | |
Which aches, and trembles but to think he suffers: | |
This is my crime--in any other child | |
'Twould be a merit. | |
_Lic._ Oh! my best Attilia, | |
Do not repent thee of the pious deed: | |
It was a virtuous error. _That_ in _us_ | |
Is a just duty, which the god-like soul | |
Of Regulus would think a shameful weakness. | |
If the contempt of life in him be virtue, | |
It were in us a crime to let him perish. | |
Perhaps at last he may consent to live: | |
He then will thank us for our cares to save him: | |
Let not his anger fright thee. Though our love | |
Offend him now, yet, when his mighty soul | |
Is reconcil'd to life, he will not chide us. | |
The sick man loathes, and with reluctance takes | |
The remedy by which his health's restor'd. | |
_At._ Licinius! his reproaches wound my soul. | |
I cannot live and bear his indignation. | |
_Lic._ Would my Attilia rather lose her father | |
Than, by offending him, preserve his life? | |
_At._ Ah! no. If he but live, I am contented. | |
_Lic._ Yes, he shall live, and we again be bless'd; | |
Then dry thy tears, and let those lovely orbs | |
Beam with their wonted lustre on Licinius, | |
Who lives but in the sunshine of thy smiles. | |
[_Exit_ LICINIUS. | |
_At._ (_alone_.) O Fortune, Fortune, thou capricious goddess! | |
Thy frowns and favours have alike no bounds: | |
Unjust, or prodigal in each extreme. | |
When thou wouldst humble human vanity, | |
By singling out a wretch to bear thy wrath, | |
Thou crushest him with anguish to excess: | |
If thou wouldst bless, thou mak'st the happiness | |
Too poignant for his giddy sense to bear.---- | |
Immortal gods, who rule the fates of men, | |
Preserve my father! bless him, bless him, heav'n! | |
If your avenging thunderbolts _must_ fall, | |
Strike _here_--this bosom will invite the blow, | |
And _thank_ you for it: but in mercy spare, | |
Oh! spare _his_ sacred, venerable head: | |
Respect in _him_ an image of yourselves; | |
And leave a world, who wants it, an example | |
Of courage, wisdom, constancy and truth. | |
Yet if, Eternal Powers who rule this ball! | |
You have decreed that Regulus must fall; | |
Teach me to yield to your divine command, | |
And meekly bow to your correcting hand; | |
Contented to resign, or pleas'd receive, | |
What wisdom may withhold, or mercy give. | |
[_Exit_ ATTILIA. | |
ACT IV. | |
SCENE--_A Gallery in the Ambassador's Palace._ | |
_Reg._ (_alone._) | |
Be calm, my soul! what strange emotions shake thee? | |
Emotions thou hast never felt till now. | |
Thou hast defied the dangers of the deep, | |
Th' impetuous hurricane, the thunder's roar, | |
And all the terrors of the various war; | |
Yet, now thou tremblest, now thou stand'st dismay'd, | |
With fearful expectation of thy fate.---- | |
Yes--thou hast amplest reason for thy fears; | |
For till this hour, so pregnant with events, | |
Thy fame and glory never were at stake. | |
Soft--let me think--what is this thing call'd _glory_? | |
'Tis the soul's tyrant, that should be dethron'd, | |
And learn subjection like her other passions! | |
Ah! no! 'tis false: this is the coward's plea; | |
The lazy language of refining vice. | |
That man was born in vain, whose wish to serve | |
Is circumscrib'd within the wretched bounds | |
Of _self_--a narrow, miserable sphere! | |
Glory exalts, enlarges, dignifies, | |
Absorbs the selfish in the social claims, | |
And renders man a blessing to mankind.-- | |
It is this principle, this spark of deity, | |
Rescues debas'd humanity from guilt, | |
And elevates it by her strong excitements:-- | |
It takes off sensibility from pain, | |
From peril fear, plucks out the sting from death, | |
Changes ferocious into gentle manners, | |
And teaches men to imitate the gods. | |
It shows----but see, alas! where Publius comes. | |
Ah! he advances with a down-cast eye, | |
And step irresolute---- | |
_Enter_ PUBLIUS. | |
_Reg._ My Publius, welcome! | |
What tidings dost thou bring? what says the Senate? | |
Is yet my fate determin'd? quickly tell me.-- | |
_Pub._ I cannot speak, and yet, alas! I must. | |
_Reg._ Tell me the whole.-- | |
_Pub._ Would I were rather dumb! | |
_Reg._ Publius, no more delay:--I charge thee speak. | |
_Pub._ The Senate has decreed thou shalt depart. | |
_Reg._ Genius of Rome! thou hast at last prevail'd-- | |
I thank the gods, I have not liv'd in vain! | |
Where is Hamilcar?--find him--let us go, | |
For Regulus has nought to do in Rome; | |
I have accomplished her important work, | |
And must depart. | |
_Pub._ Ah, my unhappy father! | |
_Reg._ Unhappy, Publius! didst thou say unhappy? | |
Does he, does that bless'd man deserve this name, | |
Who to his latest breath can serve his country? | |
_Pub._ Like thee, my father, I adore my country, | |
Yet weep with anguish o'er thy cruel chains. | |
_Reg._ Dost thou not know that _life_'s a slavery? | |
The body is the chain that binds the soul; | |
A yoke that every mortal must endure. | |
Wouldst thou lament--lament the general fate, | |
The chain that nature gives, entail'd on all, | |
Not these _I_ wear? | |
_Pub._ Forgive, forgive my sorrows: | |
I know, alas! too well, those fell barbarians | |
Intend thee instant death. | |
_Reg._ So shall my life | |
And servitude together have an end.---- | |
Publius, farewell; nay, do not follow me.-- | |
_Pub._ Alas! my father, if thou ever lov'dst me, | |
Refuse me not the mournful consolation | |
To pay the last sad offices of duty | |
I e'er can show thee.---- | |
_Reg._ No!--thou canst fulfil | |
Thy duty to thy father in a way | |
More grateful to him: I must strait embark. | |
Be it meanwhile thy pious care to keep | |
My lov'd Attilia from a sight, I fear, | |
Would rend her gentle heart.--Her tears, my son, | |
Would dim the glories of thy father's triumph. | |
Her sinking spirits are subdu'd by grief. | |
And should her sorrows pass the bounds of reason, | |
Publius, have pity on her tender age, | |
Compassionate the weakness of her sex; | |
We must not hope to find in _her_ soft soul | |
The strong exertion of a manly courage.---- | |
Support her fainting spirit, and instruct her, | |
By thy example, how a Roman ought | |
To bear misfortune. Oh, indulge her weakness! | |
And be to her the father she will lose. | |
I leave my daughter to thee--I do more---- | |
I leave to thee the conduct of--thyself. | |
--Ah, Publius! I perceive thy courage fails-- | |
I see the quivering lip, the starting tear:-- | |
That lip, that tear calls down my mounting soul. | |
Resume thyself--Oh, do not blast my hope! | |
Yes--I'm compos'd--thou wilt not mock my age-- | |
Thou _art_--thou art a _Roman_--and my son. | |
[_Exit_. | |
_Pub._ And is he gone?--now be thyself, my soul-- | |
Hard is the conflict, but the triumph glorious. | |
Yes.--I must conquer these too tender feelings; | |
The blood that fills these veins demands it of me; | |
My father's great example too requires it. | |
Forgive me _Rome_, and _glory_, if I yielded | |
To nature's strong attack:--I must subdue it. | |
Now, Regulus, I _feel_ I am thy _son_. | |
_Enter_ ATTILIA _and_ BARCE. | |
_At._ My brother, I'm distracted, wild with fear-- | |
Tell me, O tell me, what I dread to know-- | |
Is it then true?--I cannot speak--my father? | |
_Barce._ May we believe the fatal news? | |
_Pub._ Yes, Barce, | |
It is determin'd. Regulus must go. | |
_At._ Immortal Powers!--What say'st thou? | |
_Barce._ Can it be? | |
Thou canst not mean it. | |
_At._ Then you've all betray'd me. | |
_Pub._ Thy grief avails not. | |
_Enter_ HAMILCAR _and_ LICINIUS. | |
_Barce._ Pity us, Hamilcar! | |
_At._ Oh, help, Licinius, help the lost Attilia! | |
_Ham._ My Barce! there's no hope. | |
_Lic._ Ah! my fair mourner, | |
All's lost. | |
_At._ What all, Licinius? said'st thou all? | |
Not one poor glimpse of comfort left behind? | |
Tell me, at least, where Regulus is gone: | |
The daughter shall partake the father's chains, | |
And share the woes she knew not to prevent. [_Going._ | |
_Pub._ What would thy wild despair? Attilia, stay, | |
Thou must not follow; this excess of grief | |
Would much offend him. | |
_At._ Dost thou hope to stop me? | |
_Pub._ I hope thou wilt resume thy better self, | |
And recollect thy father will not bear---- | |
_At._ I only recollect I am a _daughter_, | |
A poor, defenceless, helpless, wretched daughter! | |
Away----and let me follow. | |
_Pub._ No, my sister. | |
_At._ Detain me not--Ah! while thou hold'st me here, | |
He goes, and I shall never see him more. | |
_Barce._ My friend, be comforted, he cannot go | |
Whilst here Hamilcar stays. | |
_At._ O Barce, Barce! | |
Who will advise, who comfort, who assist me? | |
Hamilcar, pity me.--Thou wilt not answer? | |
_Ham._ Rage and astonishment divide my soul. | |
_At._ Licinius, wilt thou not relieve my sorrows? | |
_Lic._ Yes, at my life's expense, my heart's best treasure, | |
Wouldst thou instruct me how. | |
_At._ My brother, too---- | |
Ah! look with mercy on thy sister's woes! | |
_Pub._ I will at least instruct thee how to _bear_ them. | |
My sister--yield thee to thy adverse fate; | |
Think of thy father, think of Regulus; | |
Has he not taught thee how to brave misfortune? | |
'Tis but by following his illustrious steps | |
Thou e'er canst merit to be call'd his daughter. | |
_At._ And is it thus thou dost advise thy sister? | |
Are these, ye gods, the feelings of a son? | |
Indifference here becomes impiety-- | |
Thy savage heart ne'er felt the dear delights | |
Of filial tenderness--the thousand joys | |
That flow from blessing and from being bless'd! | |
No--didst thou love thy father as _I_ love him, | |
Our kindred souls would be in unison; | |
And all my sighs be echoed back by thine. | |
Thou wouldst--alas!--I know not what I say.-- | |
Forgive me, Publius,--but indeed, my brother, | |
I do not understand this cruel coldness. | |
_Ham._ Thou may'st not--but I understand it well. | |
His mighty soul, full as to thee it seems | |
Of Rome, and glory--is enamour'd--caught-- | |
Enraptur'd with the beauties of fair Barce.-- | |
_She_ stays behind if Regulus _departs_. | |
Behold the cause of all the well-feign'd virtue | |
Of this mock patriot--curst dissimulation! | |
_Pub._ And canst thou entertain such vile suspicions? | |
Gods! what an outrage to a son like me! | |
_Ham._ Yes, Roman! now I see thee as thou art, | |
Thy naked soul divested of its veil, | |
Its specious colouring, its dissembled virtues: | |
Thou hast plotted with the Senate to prevent | |
Th' exchange of captives. All thy subtle arts, | |
Thy smooth inventions, have been set to work-- | |
The base refinements of your _polish'd_ land. | |
_Pub._ In truth the doubt is worthy of an African. | |
[_Contemptuously._ | |
_Ham._ I know.---- | |
_Pub._ Peace, Carthaginian, peace, and hear me, | |
Dost thou not know, that on the very man | |
Thou hast insulted, Barce's fate depends? | |
_Ham._ Too well I know, the cruel chance of war | |
Gave her, a blooming captive, to thy mother; | |
Who, dying, left the beauteous prize to thee. | |
_Pub._ Now, see the use a _Roman_ makes of power. | |
Heav'n is my witness how I lov'd the maid! | |
Oh, she was dearer to my soul than light! | |
Dear as the vital stream that feeds my heart! | |
But know my _honour_'s dearer than my love. | |
I do not even hope _thou_ wilt believe me; | |
_Thy_ brutal soul, as savage as thy clime, | |
Can never taste those elegant delights, | |
Those pure refinements, love and glory yield. | |
'Tis not to thee I stoop for vindication, | |
Alike to me thy friendship or thy hate; | |
But to remove from others a pretence | |
For branding Publius with the name of villain; | |
That _they_ may see no sentiment but honour | |
Informs this bosom--Barce, thou art _free_. | |
Thou hast my leave with him to quit this shore. | |
Now learn, barbarian, how a _Roman_ loves! [_Exit._ | |
_Barce._ He cannot mean it! | |
_Ham._ Oh, exalted virtue! | |
Which challenges esteem though from a foe. | |
[_Looking after_ PUBLIUS. | |
_At._ Ah! cruel Publius, wilt thou leave me thus? | |
Thus leave thy sister? | |
_Barce._ Didst thou hear, Hamilcar? | |
Oh, didst thou hear the god-like youth resign me? | |
[HAMILCAR _and_ LICINIUS _seem lost in thought_. | |
_Ham._ Farewell, I will return. | |
_Lic._ Farewell, my love! [_To_ ATTILIA. | |
_Barce._ Hamilcar, where---- | |
_At._ Alas! where art thou going? | |
[_To_ LICINIUS. | |
_Lic._ If possible, to save the life of Regulus. | |
_At._ But by what means?--Ah! how canst thou effect it? | |
_Lic._ Since the disease so desperate is become, | |
We must apply a desperate remedy. | |
_Ham._ (_after a long pause._) | |
Yes--I will mortify this generous foe; | |
I'll be reveng'd upon this stubborn Roman; | |
Not by defiance bold, or feats of arms, | |
But by a means more sure to work its end; | |
By emulating his exalted worth, | |
And showing him a virtue like his own; | |
Such a refin'd revenge as noble minds | |
Alone can practise, and alone can feel. | |
_At._ If thou wilt go, Licinius, let Attilia | |
At least go with thee. | |
_Lic._ No, my gentle love, | |
Too much I prize thy safety and thy peace. | |
Let me entreat thee, stay with Barce here | |
Till our return. | |
_At._ Then, ere ye go, in pity | |
Explain the latent purpose of your souls. | |
_Lic._ Soon shalt thou know it all--Farewell! farewell! | |
Let us keep Regulus in _Rome_, or _die_. | |
[_To_ HAMILCAR _as he goes out_. | |
_Ham._ Yes.--These smooth, polish'd Romans shall confess | |
The soil of _Afric_, too, produces heroes. | |
What, though our pride, perhaps, be less than theirs, | |
Our virtue may be equal: they shall own | |
The path of honour's not unknown to Carthage, | |
Nor, as they arrogantly think, confin'd | |
To their proud Capitol:----Yes--they shall learn | |
The gods look down on other climes than theirs. | |
[_Exit._ | |
_At._ What gone, _both_ gone? What can I think or do? | |
Licinius leaves me, led by love and virtue, | |
To rouse the citizens to war and tumult, | |
Which may be fatal to himself and Rome, | |
And yet, alas! not serve my dearest father. | |
Protecting deities! preserve them both! | |
_Barce._ Nor is thy Barce more at ease, my friend; | |
I dread the fierceness of Hamilcar's courage: | |
Rous'd by the grandeur of thy brother's deed, | |
And stung by his reproaches, his great soul | |
Will scorn to be outdone by him in glory. | |
Yet, let us rise to courage and to life, | |
Forget the weakness of our helpless sex, | |
And mount above these coward woman's fears. | |
Hope dawns upon my mind--my prospect clears, | |
And every cloud now brightens into day. | |
_At._ How different are our souls! Thy sanguine temper, | |
Flush'd with the native vigour of thy soil, | |
Supports thy spirits; while the sad Attilia, | |
Sinking with more than all her sex's fears, | |
Sees not a beam of hope; or, if she sees it, | |
'Tis not the bright, warm splendour of the sun; | |
It is a sickly and uncertain glimmer | |
Of instantaneous lightning passing by. | |
It shows, but not diminishes, the danger, | |
And leaves my poor benighted soul as dark | |
As it had never shone. | |
_Barce._ Come, let us go. | |
Yes, joys unlook'd-for now shall gild thy days, | |
And brighter suns reflect propitious rays. [_Exeunt._ | |
SCENE--_A Hall looking towards the Garden._ | |
_Enter_ REGULUS, _speaking to one of_ HAMILCAR'S _Attendants_. | |
Where's your Ambassador? where is Hamilcar? | |
Ere this he doubtless knows the Senate's will. | |
Go, seek him out--Tell him we must depart---- | |
Rome has no hope for him, or wish for me. | |
Longer delay were criminal in _both_. | |
_Enter_ MANLIUS. | |
_Reg._ He comes. The Consul comes! my noble friend! | |
O let me strain thee to this grateful heart, | |
And thank thee for the vast, vast debt I owe thee! | |
But for _thy_ friendship I had been a wretch---- | |
Had been compell'd to shameful _liberty_. | |
To thee I owe the glory of these chains, | |
My faith inviolate, my fame preserv'd, | |
My honour, virtue, glory, bondage,--all! | |
_Man._ But we shall lose thee, so it is decreed---- | |
Thou must depart? | |
_Reg._ Because I must depart | |
You will not lose me; I were lost, indeed, | |
Did I remain in Rome. | |
_Man._ Ah! Regulus, | |
Why, why so late do I begin to love thee? | |
Alas! why have the adverse fates decreed | |
I ne'er must give thee other proofs of friendship, | |
Than those so fatal and so full of woe? | |
_Reg._ Thou hast perform'd the duties of a friend; | |
Of a just, faithful, Roman, noble friend: | |
Yet, generous as thou art, if thou constrain me | |
To sink beneath a weight of obligation, | |
I could--yes, Manlius--I could ask still more. | |
_Man._ Explain thyself. | |
_Reg._ I think I have fulfill'd | |
The various duties of a citizen; | |
Nor have I aught beside to do for Rome. | |
Now, nothing for the public good remains! | |
Manlius, I recollect I am a father! | |
My Publius! my Attilia! ah! my friend, | |
They are--(forgive the weakness of a parent) | |
To my fond heart dear as the drops that warm it. | |
Next to my country they're my all of life; | |
And, if a weak old man be not deceiv'd, | |
They will not shame that country. Yes, my friend, | |
The love of virtue blazes in their souls. | |
As yet these tender plants are immature, | |
And ask the fostering hand of cultivation: | |
Heav'n, in its wisdom, would not let their _father_ | |
Accomplish this great work.--To thee, my friend, | |
The tender parent delegates the trust: | |
Do not refuse a poor man's legacy; | |
I do bequeath my orphans to thy love-- | |
If thou wilt kindly take them to thy bosom, | |
Their loss will be repaid with usury. | |
Oh, let the father owe his glory to thee, | |
The children their protection! | |
_Man._ Regulus, | |
With grateful joy my heart accepts the trust: | |
Oh, I will shield, with jealous tenderness, | |
The precious blossoms from a blasting world. | |
In me thy children shall possess a father, | |
Though not as worthy, yet as fond as thee. | |
The pride be mine to fill their youthful breasts | |
With ev'ry virtue--'twill not cost me much: | |
I shall have nought to teach, nor they to learn, | |
But the great history of their god-like sire. | |
_Reg._ I will not hurt the grandeur of thy virtue, | |
By paying thee so poor a thing as thanks. | |
Now all is over, and I bless the gods, | |
I've nothing more to do. | |
_Enter_ PUBLIUS _in haste_. | |
_Pub._ O Regulus! | |
_Reg._ Say what has happened? | |
_Pub._ Rome is in a tumult-- | |
There's scarce a citizen but runs to arms-- | |
They will not let thee go. | |
_Reg._ Is't possible? | |
Can Rome so far forget her dignity | |
As to desire this infamous exchange? | |
I blush to think it! | |
_Pub._ Ah! not so, my father. | |
Rome cares not for the peace, nor for th' exchange; | |
She only wills that Regulus shall stay. | |
_Reg._ How, stay? my oath--my faith--my honour! ah! | |
Do they forget? | |
_Pub._ No: every man exclaims | |
That neither faith nor honour should be kept | |
With Carthaginian perfidy and fraud. | |
_Reg._ Gods! gods! on what vile principles they reason! | |
Can guilt in Carthage palliate guilt in Rome, | |
Or vice in one absolve it in another? | |
Ah! who hereafter shall be criminal, | |
If precedents are us'd to justify | |
The blackest crimes. | |
_Pub._ Th' infatuated people | |
Have called the augurs to the sacred fane, | |
There to determine this momentous point. | |
_Reg._ I have no need of _oracles_, my son; | |
_Honour's_ the oracle of honest men. | |
I gave my promise, which I will observe | |
With most religious strictness. Rome, 'tis true, | |
Had power to choose the peace, or change of slaves; | |
But whether Regulus return, or not, | |
Is _his_ concern, not the concern of _Rome_. | |
_That_ was a public, _this_ a private care. | |
Publius! thy father is not what he was; | |
_I_ am the slave of _Carthage_, nor has Rome | |
Power to dispose of captives not her own. | |
Guards! let us to the port.--Farewell, my friend. | |
_Man._ Let me entreat thee stay; for shouldst thou go | |
To stem this tumult of the populace, | |
They will by force detain thee: then, alas! | |
Both Regulus and Rome must break their faith. | |
_Reg._ What! must I then remain? | |
_Man._ No, Regulus, | |
I will not check thy great career of glory: | |
Thou shalt depart; meanwhile, I'll try to calm | |
This wild tumultuous uproar of the people. | |
The consular authority shall still them. | |
_Reg._ Thy virtue is my safeguard----but---- | |
_Man._ Enough---- | |
_I_ know _thy_ honour, and trust thou to _mine_. | |
I am a _Roman_, and I feel some sparks | |
Of Regulus's virtue in my breast. | |
Though fate denies me thy illustrious chains, | |
I will at least endeavour to _deserve_ them. [_Exit._ | |
_Reg._ How is my country alter'd! how, alas, | |
Is the great spirit of old Rome extinct! | |
_Restraint_ and _force_ must now be put to use | |
To _make_ her virtuous. She must be _compell'd_ | |
To faith and honour.--Ah! what, Publius here? | |
And dost thou leave so tamely to my friend | |
The honour to assist me? Go, my boy, | |
'Twill make me _more_ in love with chains and death, | |
To owe them to a _son_. | |
_Pub._ I go, my father-- | |
I will, I will obey thee. | |
_Reg._ Do not sigh---- | |
One sigh will check the progress of thy glory. | |
_Pub._ Yes, I will own the pangs of death itself | |
Would be less cruel than these agonies: | |
Yet do not frown austerely on thy son: | |
His anguish is his virtue: if to conquer | |
The feelings of my soul were easy to me, | |
'Twould be no merit. Do not then defraud | |
The sacrifice I make thee of its worth. | |
[_Exeunt severally._ | |
MANLIUS, ATTILIA. | |
_At._ (_speaking as she enters._) | |
Where is the Consul?--Where, oh, where is Manlius? | |
I come to breathe the voice of mourning to him, | |
I come to crave his mercy, to conjure him | |
To whisper peace to my afflicted bosom, | |
And heal the anguish of a wounded spirit. | |
_Man._ What would the daughter of my noble friend? | |
_At._ (_kneeling._) | |
If ever pity's sweet emotions touch'd thee,-- | |
If ever gentle love assail'd thy breast,-- | |
If ever virtuous friendship fir'd thy soul-- | |
By the dear names of husband and of parent-- | |
By all the soft, yet powerful ties of nature-- | |
If e'er thy lisping infants charm'd thine ear, | |
And waken'd all the father in thy soul,-- | |
If e'er thou hop'st to have thy latter days | |
Blest by their love, and sweeten'd by their duty-- | |
Oh, hear a kneeling, weeping, wretched daughter, | |
Who begs a father's life!--nor hers alone, | |
But Rome's--his country's father. | |
_Man._ Gentle maid! | |
Oh, spare this soft, subduing eloquence!-- | |
Nay, rise. I shall forget I am a Roman-- | |
Forget the mighty debt I owe my country-- | |
Forget the fame and glory of thy father. | |
I must conceal this weakness. [_Turns from her._ | |
_At._ (_rises eagerly._) Ah! you weep! | |
Indulge, indulge, my Lord, the virtuous softness: | |
Was ever sight so graceful, so becoming, | |
As pity's tear upon the hero's cheek? | |
_Man._ No more--I must not hear thee. [_Going._ | |
_At._ How! not, not hear me! | |
You must--you shall--nay, nay return, my Lord-- | |
Oh, fly not from me!----look upon my woes, | |
And imitate the mercy of the gods: | |
'Tis not their thunder that excites our reverence, | |
'Tis their mild mercy, and forgiving love. | |
'Twill add a brighter lustre to thy laurels, | |
When men shall say, and proudly point thee out, | |
"Behold the Consul!--He who sav'd his friend." | |
Oh, what a tide of joy will overwhelm thee! | |
Who will not envy thee thy glorious feelings? | |
_Man._ Thy father scorns his liberty and life, | |
Nor will accept of either at the expense | |
Of honour, virtue, glory, faith, and Rome. | |
_At._ Think you behold the god-like Regulus | |
The prey of unrelenting savage foes, | |
Ingenious only in contriving ill:---- | |
Eager to glut their hunger of revenge, | |
They'll plot such new, such dire, unheard-of tortures-- | |
Such dreadful, and such complicated vengeance, | |
As e'en the Punic annals have not known; | |
And, as they heap fresh torments on his head, | |
They'll glory in their genius for destruction. | |
--Ah! Manlius--now methinks I see my father-- | |
My faithful fancy, full of his idea, | |
Presents him to me--mangled, gash'd, and torn-- | |
Stretch'd on the rack in writhing agony-- | |
The torturing pincers tear his quivering flesh, | |
While the dire murderers smile upon his wounds, | |
His groans their music, and his pangs their sport. | |
And if they lend some interval of ease, | |
Some dear-bought intermission, meant to make | |
The following pang more exquisitely felt, | |
Th' insulting executioners exclaim, | |
--"Now, Roman! feel the vengeance thou hast scorn'd." | |
_Man._ Repress thy sorrows---- | |
_At._ Can the friend of Regulus | |
Advise his daughter not to mourn his fate? | |
How cold, alas! is friendship when compar'd | |
To ties of blood--to nature's powerful impulse! | |
Yes--she asserts her empire in my soul, | |
'Tis Nature pleads--she will--she must be heard; | |
With warm, resistless eloquence she pleads.-- | |
Ah, thou art soften'd!--see--the Consul yields-- | |
The feelings triumph--tenderness prevails-- | |
The Roman is subdued--the daughter conquers! | |
[_Catching hold of his robe._ | |
_Man._ Ah, hold me not!--I must not, cannot stay, | |
The softness of thy sorrow is contagious; | |
I, too, may feel when I should only reason. | |
I dare not hear thee--Regulus and Rome, | |
The patriot and the friend--all, all forbid it. | |
[_Breaks from her, and exit._ | |
_At._ O feeble grasp!--and is he gone, quite gone? | |
Hold, hold thy empire, Reason, firmly hold it, | |
Or rather quit at once thy feeble throne, | |
Since thou but serv'st to show me what I've lost, | |
To heighten all the horrors that await me; | |
To summon up a wild distracted crowd | |
Of fatal images, to shake my soul, | |
To scare sweet peace, and banish hope itself. | |
Farewell! delusive dreams of joy, farewell! | |
Come, fell Despair! thou pale-ey'd spectre, come, | |
For thou shalt be Attilia's inmate now, | |
And thou shalt grow, and twine about her heart, | |
And she shall be so much enamour'd of thee, | |
The pageant Pleasure ne'er shall interpose | |
Her gaudy presence to divide you more. | |
[_Stands in an attitude of silent grief._ | |
_Enter_ LICINIUS. | |
_Lic._ At length I've found thee--ah, my charming maid! | |
How have I sought thee out with anxious fondness! | |
Alas! she hears me not.----My best Attilia! | |
Ah! grief oppresses every gentle sense. | |
Still, still she hears not----'tis Licinius speaks, | |
He comes to soothe the anguish of thy spirit, | |
And hush thy tender sorrows into peace. | |
_At._ Who's he that dares assume the voice of love, | |
And comes unbidden to these dreary haunts? | |
Steals on the sacred treasury of woe, | |
And breaks the league Despair and I have made? | |
_Lic._ 'Tis one who comes the messenger of heav'n, | |
To talk of peace, of comfort, and of joy. | |
_At._ Didst thou not mock me with the sound of joy? | |
Thou little know'st the anguish of my soul, | |
If thou believ'st I ever can again, | |
So long the wretched sport of angry Fortune, | |
Admit delusive hope to my sad bosom. | |
No----I abjure the flatterer and her train. | |
Let those, who ne'er have been like me deceiv'd, | |
Embrace the fair fantastic sycophant-- | |
For I, alas! am wedded to despair, | |
And will not hear the sound of comfort more. | |
_Lic._ Cease, cease, my love, this tender voice of woe, | |
Though softer than the dying cygnet's plaint: | |
She ever chants her most melodious strain | |
When death and sorrow harmonise her note. | |
_At._ Yes--I will listen now with fond delight; | |
For death and sorrow are my darling themes. | |
Well!--what hast thou to say of death and sorrow? | |
Believe me, thou wilt find me apt to listen, | |
And, if my tongue be slow to answer thee, | |
Instead of words I'll give thee sighs and tears. | |
_Lic._ I come to dry thy tears, not make them flow; | |
The gods once more propitious smile upon us, | |
Joy shall again await each happy morn, | |
And ever-new delight shall crown the day! | |
Yes, Regulus shall live.---- | |
_At._ Ah me! what say'st thou? | |
Alas! I'm but a poor, weak, trembling woman-- | |
I cannot bear these wild extremes of fate-- | |
Then mock me not.--I think thou art Licinius, | |
The generous lover, and the faithful friend! | |
I think thou wouldst not sport with my afflictions. | |
_Lic._ Mock thy afflictions?--May eternal Jove, | |
And every power at whose dread shrine we worship, | |
Blast all the hopes my fond ideas form, | |
If I deceive thee! Regulus shall live, | |
Shall live to give thee to Licinius' arms. | |
Oh! we will smooth his downward path of life, | |
And after a long length of virtuous years, | |
At the last verge of honourable age, | |
When nature's glimmering lamp goes gently out, | |
We'll close, together close his eyes in peace-- | |
Together drop the sweetly-painful tear-- | |
Then copy out his virtues in our lives. | |
_At._ And shall we be so blest? is't possible? | |
Forgive me, my Licinius, if I doubt thee. | |
Fate never gave such exquisite delight | |
As flattering hope hath imag'd to thy soul. | |
But how?----Explain this bounty of the gods. | |
_Lic._ Thou know'st what influence the name of Tribune | |
Gives its possessor o'er the people's minds: | |
That power I have exerted, nor in vain; | |
All are prepar'd to second my designs: | |
The plot is ripe,--there's not a man but swears | |
To keep thy god-like father here in Rome---- | |
To save his life at hazard of his own. | |
_At._ By what gradation does my joy ascend! | |
I thought that if my father had been sav'd | |
By any means, I had been rich in bliss: | |
But that he lives, and lives preserv'd by thee, | |
Is such a prodigality of fate, | |
I cannot bear my joy with moderation: | |
Heav'n should have dealt it with a scantier hand, | |
And not have shower'd such plenteous blessings on me; | |
They are too great, too flattering to be real; | |
'Tis some delightful vision, which enchants, | |
And cheats my senses, weaken'd by misfortune. | |
_Lic._ We'll seek thy father, and meanwhile, my fair, | |
Compose thy sweet emotions ere thou see'st him, | |
Pleasure itself is painful in excess; | |
For joys, like sorrows, in extreme, oppress: | |
The gods themselves our pious cares approve, | |
And to reward our virtue crown our love. | |
ACT V. | |
_An Apartment in the Ambassador's Palace--Guards | |
and other Attendants seen at a distance._ | |
_Ham._ Where is this wondrous man, this matchless hero, | |
This arbiter of kingdoms and of kings, | |
This delegate of heav'n, this Roman god? | |
I long to show his soaring mind an equal, | |
And bring it to the standard of humanity. | |
What pride, what glory will it be to fix | |
An obligation on his stubborn soul! | |
Oh! to constrain a foe to be obliged! | |
The very thought exalts me e'en to rapture. | |
_Enter_ REGULUS _and Guards_. | |
_Ham._ Well, Regulus!--At last-- | |
_Reg._ I know it all; | |
I know the motive of thy just complaint-- | |
Be not alarm'd at this licentious uproar | |
Of the mad populace. I will depart-- | |
Fear not--I will not stay in Rome alive. | |
_Ham._ What dost thou mean by uproar and alarms? | |
Hamilcar does not come to vent complaints; | |
He rather comes to prove that Afric, too, | |
Produces heroes, and that Tiber's banks | |
May find a rival on the Punic coast. | |
_Reg._ Be it so.--'Tis not a time for vain debate: | |
Collect thy people.--Let us strait depart. | |
_Ham._ Lend me thy hearing, first. | |
_Reg._ O patience, patience! | |
_Ham._ Is it esteem'd a glory to be grateful? | |
_Reg._ The time has been when 'twas a duty only, | |
But 'tis a duty now so little practis'd, | |
That to perform it is become a glory. | |
_Ham._ If to fulfil it should expose to danger?---- | |
_Reg._ It rises then to an illustrious virtue. | |
_Ham._ Then grant this merit to an African. | |
Give me a patient hearing----Thy great son, | |
As delicate in honour as in love, | |
Hath nobly given my Barce to my arms; | |
And yet I know he doats upon the maid. | |
I come to emulate the generous deed; | |
He gave me back my love, and in return | |
I will restore his father. | |
_Reg._ Ah! what say'st thou? | |
Wilt thou preserve me then? | |
_Ham._ I will. | |
_Reg._ But how? | |
_Ham._ By leaving thee at liberty to _fly_. | |
_Reg._ Ah! | |
_Ham._ I will dismiss my guards on some pretence, | |
Meanwhile do thou escape, and lie conceal'd: | |
I will affect a rage I shall not feel, | |
Unmoor my ships, and sail for Africa. | |
_Reg._ Abhorr'd barbarian! | |
_Ham._ Well, what dost thou say? | |
Art thou not much surpris'd? | |
_Reg._ I am, indeed. | |
_Ham._ Thou could'st not then have hop'd it? | |
_Reg._ No! I could not. | |
_Ham._ And yet I'm not a Roman. | |
_Reg._ (_smiling contemptuously._) I perceive it. | |
_Ham._ You may retire (_aloud to the guards_). | |
_Reg._ No!--Stay, I charge you stay. | |
_Ham._ And wherefore stay? | |
_Reg._ I thank thee for thy offer, | |
But I shall go with thee. | |
_Ham._ 'Tis well, proud man! | |
Thou dost despise me, then? | |
_Reg._ No--but I pity thee. | |
_Ham._ Why pity me? | |
_Reg._ Because thy poor dark soul | |
Hath never felt the piercing ray of virtue. | |
Know, African! the scheme thou dost propose | |
Would injure me, thy country, and thyself. | |
_Ham._ Thou dost mistake. | |
_Reg._ Who was it gave thee power | |
To rule the destiny of Regulus? | |
Am I a slave to Carthage, or to thee? | |
_Ham._ What does it signify from whom, proud Roman! | |
Thou dost receive this benefit? | |
_Reg._ A benefit? | |
O savage ignorance! is it a benefit | |
To lie, elope, deceive, and be a villain? | |
_Ham._ What! not when life itself, when all's at stake? | |
Know'st thou my countrymen prepare thee tortures | |
That shock imagination but to think of? | |
Thou wilt be mangled, butcher'd, rack'd, impal'd. | |
Does not thy nature shrink? | |
_Reg._ (_smiling at his threats._) Hamilcar! no. | |
Dost thou not know the Roman genius better? | |
We live on honour--'tis our food, our life. | |
The motive, and the measure of our deeds! | |
We look on death as on a common object; | |
The tongue nor faulters, nor the cheek turns pale, | |
Nor the calm eye is mov'd at sight of him: | |
We court, and we embrace him undismay'd; | |
We smile at tortures if they lead to glory, | |
And only cowardice and guilt appal us. | |
_Ham._ Fine sophistry! the valour of the tongue, | |
The heart disclaims it; leave this pomp of words, | |
And cease dissembling with a friend like me. | |
I know that life is dear to all who live, | |
That death is dreadful,--yes, and must be fear'd, | |
E'en by the frozen apathists of Rome. | |
_Reg._ Did I fear death when on Bagrada's banks | |
I fac'd and slew the formidable serpent | |
That made your boldest Africans recoil, | |
And shrink with horror, though the monster liv'd | |
A native inmate of their own parch'd deserts? | |
Did I fear death before the gates of Adis?-- | |
Ask Bostar, or let Asdrubal confess. | |
_Ham._ Or shall I rather of Xantippus ask, | |
Who dar'd to undeceive deluded Rome, | |
And prove this vaunter not invincible? | |
'Tis even said, in Africa I mean, | |
He made a prisoner of this demigod.-- | |
Did we not triumph then? | |
_Reg._ Vain boaster! no. | |
No Carthaginian conquer'd Regulus; | |
Xantippus was a Greek--a brave one too: | |
Yet what distinction did your Afric make | |
Between the man who serv'd her, and her foe: | |
I was the object of her open hate; | |
He, of her secret, dark malignity. | |
He durst not trust the nation he had sav'd; | |
He knew, and therefore fear'd you.--Yes, he knew | |
Where once you were oblig'd you ne'er forgave. | |
Could you forgive at all, you'd rather pardon | |
The man who hated, than the man who serv'd you. | |
Xantippus found his ruin ere it reach'd him, | |
Lurking behind your honours and rewards; | |
Found it in your feign'd courtesies and fawnings. | |
When vice intends to strike a master stroke, | |
Its veil is smiles, its language protestations. | |
The Spartan's merit threaten'd, but his service | |
Compell'd his ruin.--Both you could not pardon. | |
_Ham._ Come, come, I know full well---- | |
_Reg._ Barbarian! peace. | |
I've heard too much.--Go, call thy followers: | |
Prepare thy ships, and learn to do thy duty. | |
_Ham._ Yes!--show thyself intrepid, and insult me; | |
Call mine the blindness of barbarian friendship. | |
On Tiber's banks I hear thee, and am calm: | |
But know, thou scornful Roman! that too soon | |
In Carthage thou may'st fear and feel my vengeance: | |
Thy cold, obdurate pride shall there confess, | |
Though Rome may talk--'tis Africa can punish. | |
[_Exit._ | |
_Reg._ Farewell! I've not a thought to waste on thee. | |
Where is the Consul? why does Publius stay? | |
Alas! I fear--but see Attilia comes!-- | |
_Enter_ ATTILIA. | |
_Reg._ What brings thee here, my child? what eager joy | |
Transports thee thus? | |
_At._ I cannot speak--my father! | |
Joy chokes my utterance--Rome, dear grateful Rome, | |
(Oh, may her cup with blessings overflow!) | |
Gives up our common destiny to thee; | |
Faithful and constant to th' advice thou gav'st her, | |
She will not hear of peace, or change of slaves, | |
But she insists--reward and bless her, gods!-- | |
That thou shalt here remain. | |
_Reg._ What! with the shame---- | |
_At._ Oh! no--the sacred senate hath consider'd | |
That when to Carthage thou did'st pledge thy faith, | |
Thou wast a captive, and that being such, | |
Thou could'st not bind thyself in covenant. | |
_Reg._ He who can die, is always free, my child! | |
Learn farther, he who owns another's strength | |
Confesses his own weakness.--Let them know, | |
I swore I would return because I chose it, | |
And will return, because I swore to do it. | |
_Enter_ PUBLIUS. | |
_Pub._ Vain is that hope, my father. | |
_Reg._ Who shall stop me? | |
_Pub._ All Rome.----The citizens are up in arms: | |
In vain would reason stop the growing torrent; | |
In vain wouldst thou attempt to reach the port, | |
The way is barr'd by thronging multitudes: | |
The other streets of Rome are all deserted. | |
_Reg._ Where, where is Manlius? | |
_Pub._ He is still thy friend: | |
His single voice opposes a whole people; | |
He threats this moment and the next entreats, | |
But all in vain; none hear him, none obey. | |
The general fury rises e'en to madness. | |
The axes tremble in the lictors' hands, | |
Who, pale and spiritless, want power to use them-- | |
And one wild scene of anarchy prevails. | |
_Reg._ Farewell! my daughter. Publius, follow me. | |
[_Exit_ PUBLIUS. | |
_At._ Ah! where? I tremble---- | |
[_Detaining_ REGULUS. | |
_Reg._ To assist my friend-- | |
T' upbraid my hapless country with her crime-- | |
To keep unstain'd the glory of these chains-- | |
To go, or perish. | |
_At._ Oh! have mercy! | |
_Reg._ Hold; | |
I have been patient with thee; have indulg'd | |
Too much the fond affections of thy soul; | |
It is enough; thy grief would now offend | |
Thy father's honour; do not let thy tears | |
Conspire with Rome to rob me of my triumph. | |
_At._ Alas! it wounds my soul. | |
_Reg._ I know it does. | |
I know 'twill grieve thy gentle heart to lose me; | |
But think, thou mak'st the sacrifice to Rome, | |
And all is well again. | |
_At._ Alas! my father, | |
In aught beside---- | |
_Reg._ What wouldst thou do, my child? | |
Canst thou direct the destiny of Rome, | |
And boldly plead amid the assembled senate? | |
Canst thou, forgetting all thy sex's softness, | |
Fiercely engage in hardy deeds of arms? | |
Canst thou encounter labour, toil and famine, | |
Fatigue and hardships, watchings, cold and heat? | |
Canst thou attempt to serve thy country thus? | |
Thou canst not:--but thou may'st sustain my loss | |
Without these agonising pains of grief, | |
And set a bright example of submission, | |
Worthy a Roman's daughter. | |
_At._ Yet such fortitude-- | |
_Reg._ Is a most painful virtue;--but Attilia | |
Is Regulus's daughter, and must have it. | |
_At._ I will entreat the gods to give it me. | |
Ah! thou art offended! I have lost thy love. | |
_Reg._ Is this concern a mark that thou hast lost it? | |
I cannot, cannot spurn my weeping child. | |
Receive this proof of my paternal fondness;-- | |
Thou lov'st Licinius--he too loves my daughter. | |
I give thee to his wishes; I do more-- | |
I give thee to his virtues.--Yes, Attilia, | |
The noble youth deserves this dearest pledge | |
Thy father's friendship ever can bestow. | |
_At._ My lord! my father! wilt thou, canst thou leave me? | |
The tender father will not quit his child! | |
_Reg._ I am, I am thy father! as a proof, | |
I leave thee my example how to suffer. | |
My child! I have a heart within this bosom; | |
That heart has passions--see in what we differ; | |
Passion--which is thy tyrant--is my slave. | |
_At._ Ah! stay my father. Ah!-- | |
_Reg._ Farewell! farewell! | |
[_Exit._ | |
_At._ Yes, Regulus! I feel thy spirit here, | |
Thy mighty spirit struggling in this breast, | |
And it shall conquer all these coward feelings, | |
It shall subdue the woman in my soul; | |
A Roman virgin should be something more-- | |
Should dare above her sex's narrow limits-- | |
And I will dare--and mis'ry shall assist me-- | |
My father! I will be indeed thy daughter! | |
The hero shall no more disdain his child; | |
Attilia shall not be the only branch | |
That yields dishonour to the parent tree. | |
_Enter_ BARCE. | |
_Barce._ Attilia! is it true that Regulus, | |
In spite of senate, people, augurs, friends, | |
And children, will depart? | |
_At._ Yes, it is true. | |
_Barce._ Oh! what romantic madness! | |
_At._ You forget-- | |
Barce! the deeds of heroes claim respect. | |
_Barce._ Dost thou approve a virtue which must lead | |
To chains, to tortures, and to certain death? | |
_At._ Barce! those chains, those tortures, and that death, | |
Will be his triumph. | |
_Barce._ Thou art pleas'd, Attilia: | |
By heav'n thou dost exult in his destruction! | |
_At._ Ah! pitying powers. [_Weeps._ | |
_Barce._ I do not comprehend thee. | |
_At._ No, Barce, I believe it.--Why, how shouldst thou? | |
If I mistake not, thou wast born in Carthage, | |
In a barbarian land, where never child | |
Was taught to triumph in a father's chains. | |
_Barce._ Yet thou dost weep--thy tears at least are honest, | |
For they refuse to share thy tongue's deceit; | |
They speak the genuine language of affliction, | |
And tell the sorrows that oppress thy soul. | |
_At._ Grief, that dissolves in tears, relieves the heart. | |
When congregated vapours melt in rain, | |
The sky is calm'd, and all's serene again. [_Exit._ | |
_Barce._ Why, what a strange, fantastic land is this! | |
This love of glory's the disease of Rome; | |
It makes her mad, it is a wild delirium, | |
An universal and contagious frenzy; | |
It preys on all, it spares nor sex nor age: | |
The Consul envies Regulus his chains-- | |
He, not less mad, contemns his life and freedom-- | |
The daughter glories in the father's ruin-- | |
And Publius, more distracted than the rest, | |
Resigns the object that his soul adores, | |
For this vain phantom, for this empty glory. | |
This may be virtue; but I thank the gods, | |
The soul of Barce's not a Roman soul. [_Exit._ | |
_Scene within sight of the Tiber--Ships ready for the embarkation | |
of Regulus and the Ambassador--Tribune and People stopping up the | |
passage--Consul and Lictors endeavouring to clear it._ | |
MANLIUS _and_ LICINIUS _advance_. | |
_Lic._ Rome will not suffer Regulus to go. | |
_Man._ I thought the Consul and the Senators | |
Had been a part of Rome. | |
_Lic._ I grant they are-- | |
But still the people are the greater part. | |
_Man._ The greater, not the wiser. | |
_Lic._ The less cruel.---- | |
Full of esteem and gratitude to Regulus, | |
We would preserve his life. | |
_Man._ And we his honour. | |
_Lic._ His honour!---- | |
_Man._ Yes. Time presses. Words are vain. | |
Make way there--clear the passage. | |
_Lic._ On your lives, | |
Stir not a man. | |
_Man._ I do command you, go. | |
_Lic._ And I forbid it. | |
_Man._ Clear the way, my friends. | |
How dares Licinius thus oppose the Consul? | |
_Lic._ How dar'st thou, Manlius, thus oppose the Tribune? | |
_Man._ I'll show thee what I dare, imprudent boy!-- | |
Lictors, force through the passage. | |
_Lic._ Romans, guard it. | |
_Man._ Gods! is my power resisted then with arms? | |
Thou dost affront the Majesty of Rome. | |
_Lic._ The Majesty of Rome is in the people; | |
Thou dost insult it by opposing them. | |
_People._ Let noble Regulus remain in Rome. | |
_Man._ My friends, let me explain this treacherous scheme. | |
_People._ We will not hear thee----Regulus shall stay. | |
_Man._ What! none obey me? | |
_People._ Regulus shall stay. | |
_Man._ Romans, attend.---- | |
_People._ Let Regulus remain. | |
_Enter_ REGULUS, _followed by_ PUBLIUS, ATTILIA, | |
HAMILCAR, BARCE, _&c._ | |
_Reg._ Let Regulus remain! What do I hear? | |
Is't possible the wish should come from you? | |
Can Romans give, or Regulus accept, | |
A life of infamy? Is't possible? | |
Where is the ancient virtue of my country? | |
Rise, rise, ye mighty spirits of old Rome! | |
I do invoke you from your silent tombs; | |
Fabricius, Cocles, and Camillus, rise, | |
And show your sons what their great fathers were. | |
My countrymen, what crime have I committed? | |
Alas! how has the wretched Regulus | |
Deserv'd your hatred? | |
_Lic._ Hatred? ah! my friend, | |
It is our love would break these cruel chains. | |
_Reg._ If you deprive me of my chains, I'm nothing; | |
They are my honours, riches, titles,--all! | |
They'll shame my enemies, and grace my country; | |
They'll waft her glory to remotest climes, | |
Beyond her provinces and conquer'd realms, | |
Where yet her conq'ring eagles never flew; | |
Nor shall she blush hereafter if she find | |
Recorded with her faithful citizens | |
The name of Regulus, the captive Regulus. | |
My countrymen! what, think you, kept in awe | |
The Volsci, Sabines, AEqui, and Hernici? | |
The arms of Rome alone? no, 'twas her virtue; | |
That sole surviving good, which brave men keep | |
Though fate and warring worlds combine against them: | |
This still is mine--and I'll preserve it, Romans! | |
The wealth of Plutus shall not bribe it from me! | |
If you, alas! require this sacrifice, | |
Carthage herself was less my foe than Rome; | |
She took my freedom--she could take no more; | |
But Rome, to crown her work, would take my honour. | |
My friends! if you deprive me of my chains, | |
I am no more than any other slave: | |
Yes, Regulus becomes a common captive, | |
A wretched, lying, perjur'd fugitive! | |
But if, to grace my bonds, you leave my honour, | |
I shall be still a Roman, though a slave. | |
_Lic._ What faith should be observ'd with savages? | |
What promise should be kept which bonds extort? | |
_Reg._ Unworthy subterfuge! ah! let us leave | |
To the wild Arab and the faithless Moor | |
These wretched maxims of deceit and fraud: | |
Examples ne'er can justify the coward: | |
The brave man never seeks a vindication, | |
Save from his own just bosom and the gods; | |
From principle, not precedent, he acts: | |
As that arraigns him, or as that acquits, | |
He stands or falls; condemn'd or justified. | |
_Lic._ Rome is no more if Regulus departs. | |
_Reg._ Let Rome remember Regulus must die! | |
Nor would the moment of my death be distant, | |
If nature's work had been reserv'd for nature: | |
What Carthage means to do, _she_ would have done | |
As speedily, perhaps, at least as surely. | |
My wearied life has almost reach'd its goal; | |
The once-warm current stagnates in these veins, | |
Or through its icy channels slowly creeps---- | |
View the weak arm; mark the pale furrow'd cheek, | |
The slacken'd sinew, and the dim sunk eye, | |
And tell me then I must not think of dying! | |
How can I serve you else? My feeble limbs | |
Would totter now beneath the armour's weight, | |
The burden of that body it once shielded. | |
You see, my friends, you see, my countrymen, | |
I can no longer show myself a Roman, | |
Except by dying like one.----Gracious Heaven | |
Points out a way to crown my days with glory; | |
Oh, do not frustrate, then, the will of Jove, | |
And close a life of virtue with disgrace! | |
Come, come, I know my noble Romans better; | |
I see your souls, I read repentance in them; | |
You all applaud me--nay, you wish my chains: | |
'Twas nothing but excess of love misled you, | |
And as you're Romans you will conquer that. | |
Yes!--I perceive your weakness is subdu'd-- | |
Seize, seize the moment of returning virtue; | |
Throw to the ground, my sons, those hostile arms; | |
<DW44> no longer Regulus's triumph; | |
I do request it of you, as a friend, | |
I call you to your duty, as a patriot, | |
And--were I still your gen'ral, I'd command you. | |
_Lic._ Lay down your arms--let Regulus depart. | |
[_To the People, who clear the way, and quit their arms._ | |
_Reg._ Gods! gods! I thank you--you indeed are righteous. | |
_Pub._ See every man disarm'd. Oh, Rome! oh, father! | |
_At._ Hold, hold my heart. Alas! they all obey. | |
_Reg._ The way is clear. Hamilcar, I attend thee. | |
_Ham._ Why, I begin to envy this old man! [_Aside._ | |
_Man._ Not the proud victor on the day of triumph, | |
Warm from the slaughter of dispeopled realms, | |
Though conquer'd princes grace his chariot wheels, | |
Though tributary monarchs wait his nod, | |
And vanquish'd nations bend the knee before him, | |
E'er shone with half the lustre that surrounds | |
This voluntary sacrifice for Rome! | |
Who loves his country will obey her laws; | |
Who most obeys them is the truest patriot. | |
_Reg._ Be our last parting worthy of ourselves. | |
Farewell! my friends.--I bless the gods who rule us, | |
Since I must leave you, that I leave you Romans. | |
Preserve the glorious name untainted still, | |
And you shall be the rulers of the globe, | |
The arbiters of earth. The farthest east, | |
Beyond where Ganges rolls his rapid flood, | |
Shall proudly emulate the Roman name. | |
(_Kneels._) Ye gods, the guardians of this glorious people, | |
Who watch with jealous eye AEneas' race, | |
This land of heroes I commit to you! | |
This ground, these walls, this people be your care! | |
Oh! bless them, bless them with a liberal hand! | |
Let fortitude and valour, truth and justice, | |
For ever flourish and increase among them! | |
And if some baneful planet threat the Capitol | |
With its malignant influence, oh, avert it!-- | |
Be Regulus the victim of your wrath.-- | |
On this white head be all your vengeance pour'd, | |
But spare, oh, spare, and bless immortal Rome! | |
Ah! tears? my Romans weep? Farewell! farewell! | |
ATTILIA _struggles to get to_ REGULUS--_is prevented--she | |
faints--he fixes his eye steadily on her for some time, | |
and then departs to the ships_. | |
_Man._ (_looking after him._) | |
Farewell! farewell! thou glory of mankind! | |
Protector, father, saviour of thy country! | |
Through Regulus the Roman name shall live, | |
Shall triumph over time, and mock oblivion. | |
Farewell! thou pride of this immortal coast! | |
'Tis Rome alone a Regulus can boast. | |
EPILOGUE. | |
WRITTEN BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ. | |
SPOKEN BY MISS MANSELL. | |
What son of physic, but his art extends, | |
As well as hand, when call'd on by his friends? | |
What landlord is so weak to make you fast, | |
When guests like you bespeak a good repast? | |
But weaker still were he whom fate has plac'd | |
To soothe your cares, and gratify your taste, | |
Should he neglect to bring before your eyes | |
Those dainty dramas which from genius rise; | |
Whether your luxury be to smile or weep, | |
His and your profits just proportion keep. | |
To-night he brought, nor fears a due reward, | |
A Roman Patriot by a Female Bard. | |
Britons who feel his flame, his worth will rate, | |
No common spirit his, no common fate. | |
INFLEXIBLE and CAPTIVE must be great. | |
"How!" cries a sucking <DW2>, thus lounging, straddling | |
(Whose head shows want of ballast by its nodding), | |
"A woman write? Learn, Madam, of your betters, | |
And read a noble Lord's Post-hu-mous Letters. | |
There you will learn the sex may merit praise | |
By making puddings--not by making plays: | |
They can make tea and mischief, dance and sing; | |
Their heads, though full of feathers, can't take wing." | |
I thought they could, Sir; now and then by chance, | |
Maids fly to Scotland, and some wives to France. | |
He still went nodding on--"Do all she can, | |
Woman's a trifle--play-thing--like her fan." | |
Right, Sir, and when a wife the _rattle_ of a man. | |
And shall such _things_ as these become the test | |
Of female worth? the fairest and the best | |
Of all heaven's creatures? for so Milton sung us, | |
And, with such champions, who shall dare to wrong us? | |
Come forth, proud man, in all your pow'rs array'd; | |
Shine out in all your splendour--Who's afraid? | |
Who on French wit has made a glorious war, | |
Defended Shakspeare, and subdu'd Voltaire?-- | |
Woman![A]--Who, rich in knowledge, knows no pride, | |
Can boast ten tongues, and yet not satisfied? | |
Woman![B]--Who lately sung the sweetest lay? | |
A woman! woman! woman![C] still I say. | |
Well, then, who dares deny our power and might? | |
Will any married man dispute our right? | |
Speak boldly, Sirs,--your wives are not in sight. | |
What! are you silent? then you are content; | |
Silence, the proverb tells us, gives consent. | |
Critics, will you allow our honest claim? | |
Are you dumb, too? This night has fix'd our fame. | |
FOOTNOTES. | |
A: Mrs. Montague, Author of an Essay on the Writings of | |
Shakspeare. | |
B: Mrs. Carter, well known for her skill in ancient and | |
modern languages. | |
C: Miss Aikin, whose Poems were just published. | |
LONDON: | |
Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode, | |
New-Street-Square. | |
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: | |
Hyphenation is inconsistent. | |
In view of the Roman context, the word "virtus" was left in place in | |
a speech by Manlius in Act III, although it may be a misprint for | |
"virtue". | |
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inflexible Captive, by Hannah More | |
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