diff --git "a/data/test/36256.txt" "b/data/test/36256.txt" new file mode 100644--- /dev/null +++ "b/data/test/36256.txt" @@ -0,0 +1,2822 @@ + + + + +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; + 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 , 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 + +*** \ No newline at end of file