[Antonius], [Citizen 1], [Citizen 2], [Citizen 3], [Oldman 1], [Messenger], [Citizen 4], [Clodius], [Officer], [Servant], [Catulus], [Herdsman 1], [Herdsman 2], [Herdsman 3], [Soldier 1], [Soldier 2], [Soldier 3], [Servant 2], [Martha], [Ruffian], [Ambassador 1], [Ambassador 2], [Child]

THE HISTORY and FALL OF Caius Marius. A TRAGEDY. ACT I. SCENE I.

Within.
Liberty! Liberty! Marius and Sulpitius!
Liberty! Liberty Liberty! &c. Enter Metellus, Antonius, Cinna, and Senatours.

Metell.
When will the Tut'lar Gods of Rome awake,
To fix the Order of our wayward State,
That we may once more know each other; know
Th' extent of Laws, Prerogatives and Dues;
The Bounds of Rules and Magistracy; who
Ought first to govern, and who must obey?
It was not thus when God-like Scipio held
The Scale of Pow'r; he who with temp'rate poise
Knew how to guide the People's Liberty
In its full bounds, nor did the Nobles wrong,
For he himself was one—

Cinna.
He was indeed,
A Noble born: and still in Rome there are
Most worthy Patrons of her ancient Honour,
Such as are fit to fill the seat of Pow'r,

And awe this riotous unruly Rabble,
That bear down all Authority before 'em,
Were we not sold to Ruine.

Metell.
Cinna, there
Thou'st hit my Mark: We are to Ruine sold;
In all things sold; Voices are sold in Rome:
And yet we boast of Liberty. Just Gods!
That Guardians of an Empire should be chosen
By the lewd noise of Licentious Rout!
The sturdiest Drinker makes the Ablest Statesman.

Anton.
Would it not anger any true-born Roman,
To see the giddy Multitude together,
Never consulting who 'tis best deserves,
But who Feasts highest to obtain their Suffrage?
As 'tis not many years since two Great men
In Rome stood equal Candidates together,
For high Command: In every house was Riot.
To day the Drunken Rabble reel'd to one;
To morrow they were mad agen for t'other;
Changing their Voices with their Entertainment:
And none could guesse on whom the Choice would settle;
Till at the last a Stratagem was thought of.
A mighty Vessell of Falernian Wine
Was brought into the Forum crown'd with Wreaths
Of Ivy sacred to the Jolly God.
The Monster people roar'd aloud for Joy:
When straight the Candidate himself appears
In pomp, to grace the Present he had made 'em.
The Fools all gap'd. Then when a while he had
With a smooth Tale tickled their Asses Ears.
H' at both ends tapt his Butt, and got the Consulship.

Cinna.
This Curse we owe to Marius Pride,
That made him first most basely bribe the People
For Consul in the War against Jugurtha:
Where he went out, Metellus, your Lieutenant.
And how the Kindness was return'd, all know.
I never lov'd his rough untoward Nature,
And wonder such a Weed got growth in Rome.

Metell.
What says my Cinna?

Cinna.
That I like not Marius,
Nor love him—

Metell.
There Rome's better Genius spoke.
Let us consult and weigh this subject well.
O Romans, he's the Thorn that galls us all.
Our harrass'd State is Crippled with the weight
Of his Ambition: We're not safe in Marius.

Do I not know his Rise, his low Beginning,
From what a wretched despicable Root
His Greatness grew? Gods! that a Peasant's Brat,
Born in the outmost Cottages of Arpos,
And foster'd in a Corner, should by Bribes,
By Covetousness, and all the hatefull means
Of working Pride, advance his little Fate
So high, to vaunt it o're the Lords of Rome!

Anton.
Ambition, raging like a Dæmon in him,
Distorts him to all ugly forms, sh'as need to use.
In his first start of Fortune, Oh how vile
Were his Endeavours and Submissions then!
When suing to be chosen first Ædilis,
He was by general Vote repulst, yet bore it;
And in the same day shamefully return'd,
T'obtain the second Office of that name.
Equal was his success, deny'd in both:
Yet could he condescend at last to ask
The Prætorship, and but with Bribes got that.
Yet this is he that has disturb'd the World,
Rome's Idol, and the Darling of her Wishes.

Metell.
I must confess it burthens much my Age,
To see the Man I hate thus ride my Country.
For, Romans, I have mighty Cause to hate him.
I was the first (and I am well rewarded)
That lent my hand to raise his feeble state.
When first I made him Tribune by my Voice,
I thought there might be something in his Nature
That promis'd well. His Parents were most honest,
And serv'd my Father justly in their Trust.
Then as his Fortunes grew, when I was Consul,
And went against Jugurtha into Africk,
I took him with me one of my Lieutenants.
'Twas there his Pride first shew'd it self in Actions,
Opprest my Friends, and robb'd me of my Honour.

Cinn.
The Story's famous. Base Ingratitude,
Dissimulation, Cruelty, and Pride,
Ill Manners, Ignorance, and all the Ills
Of one base born, in Marius are join'd.

Metell.
Ev'n Age can't heal the rage of his Ambition.
Six times the Consul's Office has he born:
How well, our present Discords best declare.
Yet now agen, when time has worn him low,
Consum'd with Age, and by Diseases prest,
He courts the People to be once more chosen,
To lead the War against King Mithridates.

Anton.
For this each day he rises with the Sun,
And in the Field of Mars appears in Arms,
Excelling all our Youth in warlike Exercise:
He rides and Tilts, and when the Prize h'has won,
He brings it back with triumph into Rome,
And there presents it to the sordid Rabble;
Who shout to Heav'n, and cry, Let Marius live.

Metell.
He shall not have it, by the Gods he shall not.
There is a Roman Noble just and valiant,
Sylla's his name, sprung from the ancient Stock
Of the Cornelii, bred from youth in War,
Flusht with Success, and of a spirit bold,
And, more then all, hates Marius, still has crost
His Pride, and clouded ev'n his brightest Triumphs:
He's Consul now. Then let us all resolve
And fix on him, to check this Havocker,
That with his Kennell of the Rabble hunts
Our Senate into Holes, and frights our Laws.

Cinna.
Agreed for Sylla.

All.
All for Sylla.

Metell.
Nay,
This Monster Marius, who has us'd me thus,
Ev'n now would wed his Family with mine,
And asks my Daughters for his hated Offspring.
But, for my Wrongs, Lavinia shall be Sylla's,
My eldest born, her and the best of all
My Fortune I'll confirm on him, to crush the Pride
Of this base-born hot-brain'd Plebeian Tyrant.

Anton.
Now Rome's last Stake of Liberty is set,
And must be pusht for to the Teeth of Fortune.

Cinn.
Then Caius Marius shall not have the Consulship.

Metell.
No, I would rather be Sulpitius Slave,
That furious Headlong Libertine Sulpitius,
That mad wild Bull, whom Marius lets loose
On each occasion when he'd make Rome feel him,
To toss our Laws and Liberties i'th' Air.

Anton.
That lawless Tribune then must be reduc'd,
Unhindg'd from off the pow'r that holds him up,
His Band of full six hundred Roman Knights,
All in their youth, and pamper'd high with Riot,
Which he his Guard against the Senate calls;
Tall wild young men, and fit for glorious Mischiefs.

Metell.
Fear nothing: let but Sylla once have Pow'r,
And then see how like Day he'll break upon 'em,
And scatter all those Goblins of the Night,
Confusion's Night, wherein the dark Disorders

Of a Divided State, men know not where
Or how to walk, for fear they lose their way,
And stumble upon Ruine. Mark the race
Of Sylla's Life; observe but what has past,
How still h' has born a Face against this Marius,
And kept an equal stretch with him for Glory.

Cinn.
H' has in the Capitol an Image set
Of Gold, in honour of his own Atchievement,
Wherein's describ'd how the Numidian King
Gave up Jugurtha Prisoner to Sylla,
And all in spight of Marius. Oh now,
If you are truly Roman Nobles, wake,
Resume your Rights, and keep your Sylla Consul.
Courage, Nobility, and innate Honour,
Justice unbyass'd, the true Roman Spirit,
Presence of Mind and resolute Performance
Meet all in Sylla.

Metell.
Let's agree for Sylla.

All.
All for Sylla. [Exeunt. Enter Marius senior, Marius junior, Granius.

Marius sen.
There Rome's Dæmons go.
Like Witches in ill weather, in this Storm
And Tempest of the State they meet in Corners,
And urge Destruction higher: for this end
Th' have rais'd their Imp, their dear Familiar Sylla,
To cross my way, and stop my tide of Glory.
If I am Caius Marius, if I'm he
That brought Jugurtha chain'd in triumph hither;
If I am he that led Rome's Armies out,
Spent all my years in Toil and cruel War,
Chill'd my warm Youth in cold and winter Camps,
Till I brought settled Peace and Plenty home,
Made her the Court and Envy of the world;
Why does she use me thus?

Mar. jun.
Because she's rul'd
By lazy Droans that feed on others Labours,
And fatten with the fruits they never toil'd for;
Old gouty Senatours of crude Minds and Brains,
That always are fermenting Mischief up,
And style their private Malice publick Safety....

Gran.
One discontented Villain leads a State
To Madness. There's that Bell-weather of Mutiny
And damnd Sedition, Cinna, of a life
And manners sordid; one whose Gain's his God;

And to that cursed end he'd sacrifice
His Country's Honour, Liberty, or Peace,
Nay, had he any, ev'n his very Gods.

Mar. sen.
H' has taken Rome even in the nicest Minute,
And easily debaucht her to his ends,
When she was over cloy'd with Happiness,
Wantonly full, and longing after Change.
For Sylla too, a Boy, a Woman's Play-thing,
She has relinquisht me, and flouts my Age.
Constant ill Fortune wait upon her for't,
And wreck her Fate as low as first I found it,
When it lay trembling like a hunted Prey,
And hungry Ruine had it in the wind;
When Barb'rous Nations, of a race unknown,
From undiscover'd Northern Regions came,
To lay her waste, and sweep her from the Earth;
Till I, I Marius rose, the Soul of all
The Hope sh' had left, and with unwearied Toil,
Dangers each hour, and never-sleeping Care,
(A burthen for a God) oppos'd my self
'Twixt her and Desolation, gorg'd the maw
Of Death with slaughter'd numbers of her Foes,
Restor'd her Peace, and made her Name renown'd.

Mar. jun.
The Glory of that War must be remember'd,
When Rome, like her old Mother Troy, shall lie
In Ashes.... Full 300000 men,
All sons of Fortune, born and bred in Fields,
Whose Trade was War, and Camps their Habitation,
Hung like a Swarm of Mischiefs on the Hills
Of Italy, and threatned Fate to Europe.

Gran.
They came in Tribes, as if to take possession,
And seem'd a People whom the hand of Fate
Had scourg'd by Famine from a barren Land,
Of Visage soul and ugly, pinch'd and chapt
By bitter Frosts and winter Winds; yet fierce
As hungry Lions of the Desart.
Their Wives with loads of Children at their backs,
Bold manly Haggs, whom Shame had long forsook,
And vagrant living had inur'd to Ill,
Follow'd in Troups like Furies.

Mar. jun.
And all was done too when that Dolt Metellus
Shrank like a Worm, and Sylla scarce was heard of.

Mar. sen.
That curst Metellus still has bin my Plague,
And ever done me most deliberate Wrong;
Because, like a tame Hawk, I scorn'd to fly
Just at his Quarries, and attend his Lure.

Because I grew too great for him in Wars,
And serv'd his Country well, he hates me. Twice
Have I already offer'd him Alliance,
And ask'd Lavinia, Marius, for thy Bed.
Beggary catch me when agen I court him.
Why sigh'st thou, Boy? still at th' unlucky name
Of that Lavinia, I've observ'd thee thus
With thy Looks fixt, as if thy Fate had seiz'd thee.

Mar. jun.
Why did you name Lavinia? would sh' had ne'r
Bin born, or that Metellus had not got her.

Mar. sen.
Forget her, Marius: she's a dainty Bit,
A Delicate for none but Sylla's tast,
The Fav'rite Sylla, th' Idol that's set up
To blast thy Hopes, and cloud thy Father's Glories.
Consider that, my Marius, and forget her.

Mar. jun.
Forget her? oh! sh' has Beauty might ensnare
A Conquerour's Soul, and make him leave his Crowns
At random to be scuffled for by Slaves.
Forget her? oh! teach me, (great Parent) teach me;
Reade me each day a Lecture of the Wrongs
Done you by that Inglorious Patrician;
Till my Heart know no Longings but Revenge,
And quite forget Lavinia e're dwelt there.
Methinks 'twould not be hard, ev'n midst the Senate,
To strike this through him n in his Consul's Chair,
Tumble him thence, and mount it in his stead.

Mar. sen.
Oh! name not him and Consulship together:
Sylla and Consul? set 'em far apart
As East from West; for as they now are met,
It bodes Confusion, Rome, to thee and thine.

Gran.
I'd rather see Rome but one Funeral pile,
And all her people quitting her like Bees,
Driven by Sulphur from their Hives;
Much rather see her Senatours in Chains
Dragg'd through the Streets to death, and Slaves made Lords,
Then see that vain presumptuous Upstart's Pride
Succeed to lead the Armies you have bred.

Mar. sen.
'Tis such a Wrong as even Tortures Thought,
That we who 've been her Champion forty years,
Fought all her Battels with renown'd Success,
And never lost her yet a man in vain,
Should, now her noblest Fortune is at stake,
And Mithridates Sword is drawn, be thrown
Aside, like some old broken batter'd Shield:
To see my Lawrels wither as I rust:
And all this manag'd by the cursed Craft,

Petulant Envy, and malignant Spight
Of that old barking Senate's Dog Metellus.
Stake me, just Gods, with Thunder to the Earth,
Lay my gray Hairs low in the Cave of Death,
Rather then live in mem ry of such Shame.

Gran.
Perish Metellus first, and all his Race.

Mar. sen.
There spoke the Soul of Marius. By the head
Of Jove,
I hate him worse then Famine or Diseases.
Perish his Family, let inveterate Hate
Commence between our Houses from this moment;
And meeting never let 'em bloudless part.
Go, Granius, bid Sulpitius straight be ready
To meet me with his Guards upon the Forum.
By all the Gods, I'll chase this Dæmon out,
That rages thus in Rome; or let her bloud
To that degree, till she grow tame enough
To tremble at the Rod of my Revenge.
Why didst not thou applaud me for the Thought,
Take m'in thy Arms, and cherish my old Heart?
'T had bin a lucky Omen. Art thou dumb?

Mar. jun.
As dumb as solemn Sorrow ought to be.
Could my Griefs speak, the Tale would have no end.
Must I resolve to hate Metellus Race,
Yet know Lavinia took her Being thence?
Lavinia! Oh! there's Musick in the Name,
That softning me to Infant Tenderness,
Makes my Heart spring like the first leaps of Life.

Mar. sen.
Then thou art lost: if thou art Man and Roman,
If thou hast Vertue in thee, or canst prize
Thy Father's Honour, scorn her like a Slave.
Hell! love her? Dam her: there's Metellus in her.
In every Line of her bewitching Face,
There's a Resemblance tells whose Brood she came of.
I'd rather see thee in a Brothel trapt,
And basely wedded to a Ruffian's Whore,
Then thou shouldst think to taint my generous Bloud
With the base Puddle of that o're-fed Gown-man.
Lavinia?—

Mar. jun.
Yes, Lavinia: is she not
As harmless as the Turtle of the Woods?
Fair as the Summer-Beauty of the Fields?
As opening Flow'rs untainted yet with Winds,
The pride of Nature, and the Joy of Sense?
Why first did you bewitch me else to Weakness?
When from the Sacrifice we came together,

And as by her's our Chariot drove along,
These were your words, That, Marius, that is She
That must give Happiness to Thee and Rome,
Confirming in thy Arms my wish'd-for Peace
With old Metellus, and break Sylla's heart.

Mar. sen.
Then she was charming.

Mar. jun.
Oh! I found her so.
I lookt and gaz'd, and never miss'd my Heart,
It fled so pleasingly away. But now
My Soul is all Lavinia's, now she's fixt
Firm in my Heart by secret Vows made there,
Th' indeleble Records of faithfull Love,
You'd have me hate her. Can my Nature change?
Create me o're agen ... and I may be
That haughty Master of my self you'd have me:
But as I am, the Slave of strong Desires,
That keep me struggling under. Though I see
The hopeless state of my unhappy Love;
With Torment, like a stubborn Slave that lies
Chain'd to the Floor, stretcht helpless on his back,
I look to Liberty, and break my Heart.

Mar. sen.
Has she yet heard your Love, or granted her's?

Mar. jun.
If Eyes may speak the language of the Heart,
If tend'rest Glances, Sighs, and sudden Blushes
May be interpreted for Love in one
So young, so fair, and innocent as she,
Our Souls can ne'r be Strangers.—

Mar. sen.
No more: I'll have Lavinia nam'd no more.
When next thou nam'st her, let it be with infamy.
Tell me, Sh' has whor'd, or fled her Father's house
With some course Slave t' a secret Cell of Lust,
And then I'll bless thee.

Mar. jun.
I shall obey, Gods, from your Skies look down,
And find like me one wretched if you can.
No, Sir, I'll speak that hatefull Name no more,
But be as Curst as you can wish your Son. Enter Sulpitius.

Mar. sen.
Oh Sulpitius!
Thou darling of m' Ambition, art thou come?
What news?

Sulpit.
I've left a Present at your house,
The Head of a Metellus, a gay tall
Young thing, that was in time t' have bin a Lord,
But he's but Worms meat now.

Mar. sen.
My best Sulpitius,
Thou always comfort'st me. See here a man,
A Stranger to my Bloud as well as Fortune,
But meerly of his choice my Honour's friend:
What mighty things would he not doe for me?
Could'st thou, when Honour call'd thee, whine for Love?...

Sulpit.
How? my young son of war in Love? with whom?

Mar. jun.
A Woman, Sir.... I must not speak her Name.

Sulpit.
If it be hopeless Love, use generous means,
And lay a kinder Beauty to the Wound.
Take in a new Infection to the heart,
And the rank Poison of the old will dy.—

Mar. jun.
A Plantane leaf is excellent for that.

Sulpit.
For what?

Mar. jun.
For broken Shins.

Sulpit.
Why? art thou mad?

Mar. jun.
Not mad, but bound more then a Mad-man is,
Confin'd to limits, kept without my food,
Whipt and tormented.... Prithee do not wake me;
Let me dream on—

Sulpit.
Oh! the small Queen of Fairies
Is busy in his Brains; the Mab that comes
Drawn by a little Team of smallest Atoms
Over mens Noses as they lie asleep,
In a Chariot of an empty Hazel-nut
Made by a Joiner-Squirrel: in which state
She gallops night by night through Lovers brains.
And then how wickedly they dream, all know.
Sometimes she courses o're a Courtier's Nose,
And then he dreams of begging an Estate.
Sometimes she hurries o're a Souldier's Neck,
And then dreams he of cutting forrein Throats,
Of Breaches, Ambuscado's, temper'd Blades,
Of good rich Winter-quarters, and false Musters.
Sometimes she tweaks a Poet by the Ear,
And then dreams he
Of Panegyricks, flatt'ring Dedications,
And mighty Presents from the Lord knows who,
But wakes as empty as he laid him down.
Sh' has bin with Sylla too, and he dreams now
Of nothing but a Consulship.

Mar. sen.
A Rattle!
Give the fantastick giddy Boy a Rattle:
The puling Fondling should not want a Play-thing.
A Consulship?

Sulpit.
By all the Gods, he'll shake it.

H' has drawn a Force from Capua here to Rome,
As if he meant Destruction or Success:
The Rabble too are drunk with him already....

Mar. sen.
Alarm all our Citizens to Arms
That are my Friends. Draw you your Guards together,
And take possession of the Forum. Thou,
Inglorious Boy, behold my Face no more,
Till thou'st done something worthy of my Name.

Mar. jun.
First perish Rome, and all I hold most dear,
Rather then let me feel my Father's Hate....

Mar. sen.
Why, that's well said....

Sulpit.
My Troups are all together,
All ready on the Forum: but the Heav'ns
Play tricks with us. Our Ensigns, as they stood
Display'd before our Troups, took fire untouch'd,
And burnt to tinder.
Three Ravens brought their young ones in the streets,
Devouring 'em before the people's eyes,
Then bore the Garbage back into their Nests.
And noise of Trumpets rattling in the Air
Was heard, and dreadfull Cries of dying men.

Mar. sen.
It was the Roman Genius that thus warns
Me, her old Friend, not to let slip my Fate.
Ambition! oh Ambition! if I 've done
For thee things great and well .... shall Fortune now
Forsake me?
Hark thee, Sulpitius, if it come to blows,
Let not a Hair of that Metellus scape thee,
Who'd strip my Age yf its most dear-bought Honours.
Else why have I thus bustled in the World,
Through various and uncertain Fortunes hurl'd,
But to be Great, unequall'd, and alone?
Which onely he can be who still spurs on
As swift at last as when he first begun..... [Exeunt. The end of the First ACT.

ACT II. Scene 1 Enter Metellus and Nurse.

Metell.
I cannot rest to night: Ill-boding Thoughts
Have chas'd soft Sleep from my unsettled Brains.
This seems Lavinia's Chamber, and she up.
Rest too to night has bin a stranger here.
Lavinia! my Daughter, hoa! where art thou?

Nurse.
Now by my Maidenhead, (at twelve years old I had one)
Come: what, Lamb? what, Lady-bird? Gods forbid.
Where's this Girl Lavinia? Enter Lavinia.

Lavin.
How now? who calls?

Nurse.
Your Father, Child.

Lavin.
I'm here. Your Lordship's pleasure.

Metell.
Why up at this unlucky time of Night,
When nought but loathsome Vermin are abroad,
Or Witches gathering pois'nous Herbs for Spells
By the pale light of the cold waning Moon?

Lavin.
Alas! I could not sleep: in a sad Dream,
Methought I saw one standing by my Bed,
To warn me I should have a care of Sleep,
For 'twould be banefull—

Metell.
Dreams give Children Fears.

Lavin.
At which I rose from my uneasy Pillows,
And to my Closet went, to pray the Gods.
T' avert th' unlucky Omen.

Metell.
'Twas well done.
Nurse, give us leave a while: I must impart
Something to my Lavinia. Yet stay,
And hear it too. Thou know'st Lavinia's Age.

Nurse.
'Faith, I know her Age to an hour.

Metell.
She's bare Sixteen.

Nurse.

I'll lay Sixteen of my Teeth of it; and yet no Disparagement, I have but Six: she's not Sixteen. How long is't now since Marius triumph'd last?

Metell.

No matter, Woman, what is that to thee?

Nurse.

Even or odd, of all days in the year, since Marius enter'd

Rome in Triumph, 'tis now even Thirteen years. Young Marius then too was but a Boy. My Lais and she were both of an Age. Well, Lais is in Happiness: she was too good for me. But as I was saying, a month hence she 'll be Sixteen. 'Tis since Marius triumph'd now full Thirteen years, and then she was weaned. Sure I shall never forget it of all days.... Upon that day, (for I had then laid Wormseed to my Breast, sitting in the Sun under the Dovehouse-Wall) my Lady and you were at the Show. Nay, I do bear a Brain! but, as I said before, when it did tast the Wormseed on my Nipple, and felt it bitter, pretty Fool! to see it teachy and fall out with the Nipple. Shout quo' the people in the streets. 'Twas no need, I trow, to bid me trudge. And since that time it is Thirteen years; and then she cou'd stand alone, nay, she cou'd run and waddle all about: for just the day before, she broke her Forehead, and then my Husband (Peace be with him, he was a merry man) took up the Baggage. Ay, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy Face? thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; wilt thou not, Vinny? and by my fackings, the pretty Chit left Crying, and said, Ay.... I warrant and I should live a Thousand years, I never should forget it. Wilt thou not, Vinny? quoth he; and, pretty Fool, it stopt, and said, Ay.

Metell.

Enough of this; stop thy impertinent Chat.

Nurse.

Yes, my Lord: yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to think it should leave Crying, and say, Ay.... And yet in sadness it had a Bump on its Brow as big as a Cockrill's stone, a parlous Knock, and it cry'd bitterly. Ay, quo' my Husband, fall'st upon thy Face? thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to Age, wilt thou not, Vinny? Look you now, it stinted, and said, Ay....

Metell.

Intolerable trifling Gossip, peace.

Nurse.

Well; thou wast the pretty'st Babe that e're I nurst. Might I but live to see thee marry'd once, I should be happy. It stinted, and said, Ay.

Metell.
What think you then of Marriage, my Lavinia?
It was the subject that I came to treat of.

Lavin.
It is a thing I have not dreamt of yet.

Nurse.
Thing? the thing of Marriage? were I not thy Nurse,
I would swear thou hadst suckt thy Wisedome from thy Teat
The thing?

Metell.
Think of it now then, for I come to make
Proposals may be worthy of your Wishes.
They are for Sylla, the young, the gay, the handsome,
Noble in Birth and Mind, the valiant Sylla.

Nurse.

A man, young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world... why, he's a man of Wax.

Metell.
Consider, Child, my Hopes are all in Thee.
And now Old age gains ground so fast upon me,

'Mongst all its sad Infirmities, my Fears
For Thee are not the smallest.
Therefore I've made Alliance with this Sylla,
A high-born Lord, and of the noblest Hopes
That Rome can boast, to give thee to his Arms;
So in the Winter of my Age to find
Rest from all worldly Cares, and kind rejoycing
In the warm Sun-shine of thy Happiness.

Lavin.
If Happiness be seated in Content,
Or that my being blest can make you so,
Let me implore it on my Knees. I am
Your onely Child, and still, through all the Course
Of my past Life, have bin obedient too:
And as y' have ever bin a loving Parent,
And bred me up with watchfull tender'st Care,
Which never cost me hitherto a Tear;
Name not that Sylla any more: indeed
I cannot love him.

Metell.
Why?

Lavin.
In deed I cannot.

Metell.
Oh early Disobedience! by the Gods,
Debaucht already to her Sexe's Folly,
Perverseness, and untoward headstrong Will!

Lavin.
Think me not so; I gladly shall submit
To any thing; nay, must submit to all:
Yet think a little, or you sell my Peace.
The Rites of Marriage are of mighty moment:
And should you violate a thing so Sacred
Into a lawful Rape, and load my Soul
With hatefull Bonds, which never can grow easy,
How miserable am I like to be?

Metell.
Has then some other taken up your Heart?
And banisht Duty as an Exile thence?
What sensual lewd Companion of the Night
Have you bin holding Conversation with,
From open Windows at a midnight-hour,
When your loose Wishes would not let you sleep?

Lavin.
If I should love, is that a fault in one
So young as I? I cannot guess the Cause,
But when you first nam'd Sylla for my Love,
My Heart shrunk back as if you'd done it wrong.
If I did love, I'd tell you .... if I durst.
Oh Marius!

Metell.
Hah!

Lavin.
'T was Marius, Sir, I nam'd,
That Enemy to you and all your House.

'Twas an unlucky Omen that he first
Demanded me in Marriage for his Son.
Yet, Sir, believe me, I as soon cou'd wed
That Marius, whom I've cause to hate, as Sylla.

Metell.
No more: by all the Gods, 'twill make me mad,
That daily, nightly, hourly, every way
My care has bin to make thy Fortune high;
And having now provided thee a Lord
Of noblest Parentage, of fair Demeans,
Early in Fame, Youthful, and well ally'd,
In every thing as thought cou'd wish a man,
To have at last a wretched puling Fool,
A whining Suckling, ignorant of her Good,
To answer, I'll not wed, I cannot love.
If thou art mine, resolve upon Compliance,
Or think no more to rest beneath my Roofs.
Go, try thy Risk in Fortune's barren Field,
Graze where thou wilt, but think no more of Me,
Till thy Obedience welcome thy Return.

Lavin.
Will you then quite cast off your poor Lavinia?
And turn me like a Vagrant out of Doors,
To wander up and down the streets of Rome,
And beg my bread with sorrow? Can I bear
The proud and hard Revilings of a Slave,
Fat with his Master's plenty, when I ask
A little Pity for my pinching Wants?
Shall I endure the cold, wet, windy Night,
To seek a shelter under dropping Eves,
A Porch my Bed, a Threshold for my Pillow,
Shiv'ring and starv'd for want of warmth and food,
Swell'd with my Sighs, and almost choak'd with Tears?
Must I at the uncharitable Gates
Of proud great men implore Relief in vain?
Must I, your poor Lavinia, bear all this,
Because I am not Mistriss of my Heart,
Or cannot love according to your liking?

Metell.
Art thou not Mistriss of thy Heart then?

Lavin.
No.
'Tis giv'n away.

Metell.
To whom?

Lavin.
I dare not tell.
But I'll endeavour strangely to forget him,
If you'll forget but Sylla.

Metell.
Thou dost well.
Conceal his Name if thou'dst preserve his Life.
For if there be a Death in Rome that might

Be bought, it should not miss him. From this hour
Curst be thy Purposes, most curst thy Love.
And if thou marry'st, in thy Wedding-night
May all the Curses of an injur'd Parent
Fall thick, and blast the Blessings of thy Bed.

Lavin.
What have you done? alas! Sir, as you spoke,
Methought the Fury of your words took place,
And struck my Heart, like Lightning, dead within me.
Gone too? [Ex. Metell.
Is there no Pity sitting in the Clouds
That sees into the bottom of my Grief?
Alas! that ever Heav'n should practise Strategems
Upon so soft a Subject as my self!
What say'st Thou? hast not thou a word of Joy?
Some Comfort, Nurse, in this Extremity.

Nurse.

Marry, and there's but need on't: 'ods my life, this Dad of ours was an arrant Wag in his young days for all this. Well, and what then? Marius is a Man, and so's Sylla. Oh! but Marius's Lip! and then Sylla's Nose and Forehead! But then Marius's Eye agen! how 'twill sparkle, and twinckle, and rowl, and sleer? But to see Sylla a horseback! But to see Marius walk, or dance! such a Leg, such a Foot, such a Shape, such a Motion. Ahhh... Well, Marius is the man, must be the man, and shall be the man.

Lavin.
He's by his Father's Nature rough and fierce,
And knows not yet the follies of my Love:
And when he does, perhaps may scorn and hate me.

Nurse.

Yes, yes, he's a rude, unmannerly, ill-bred Fellow. He is not the Flow'r of Curtesy; but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a Lamb. Go thy ways, Child, serve God. What? a Father's an Old man, and old men they say will take care. But a Young man! Girl, ah! a Young man! There's a great deal in a Young man, and thou shalt have a Young man. What? I have bin thy Nurse these Sixteen years, and I should know what's good for thee surely. Oh! ay ... a Young man!

Lavin.
Now prithee leave me to my self a while. [Ex. Nurse.
'Tis hardly yet within two hours of Day.
Sad Nights seem long.... I'll down into the Garden.
The Queen of Night
Shines fair with all her Virgin-stars about her.
Not one amongst 'em all a Friend to me:
Yet by their Light a while I'll guide my steps,
And think what course my wretched state must take.
Oh Marius! [Ex. Lavinia.

SCENE A walled Garden belonging to Metellus house. Enter Marius junior.

Mar. jun.
How vainly have I spent this idle Night!
Ev'n Wine can't heal the ragings of my Love.
This sure should be the Mansion of Lavinia;
For in such Groves the Deities first dwelt.
Can I go forward when my Heart is here?
Turn back, dull Earth, and find thy Center out... [Enters the Garden. Enter Granius and Sulpitius.

Gran.
This way ... he went... Why, Marius! Brother Marius!

Sulp.
Perhaps he's wise, and gravely gone to bed.
There's not so weak a Drunkard as a Lover;
One Bottle to his Lady's health quite addles him.

Gran.
He ran this way, and leapt this Orchard-Wall.
Call, good Sulpitius.

Sulpit.
Nay, I'll conjure too.
Why, Marius! Humours! Passion! mad-man Lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a Sigh.
Speak but one word, and I am satisfy'd.
He hears not, neither stirs he yet. Nay then
I conjure thee by bright Lavinia's Eyes,
By her high Forehead, and her scarlet Lip,
By her fine Foot, straight Leg, and quivering Thigh,
And the Demeans that there adjacent ly,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Gran.
Hold, good Sulpitius, this will anger him....

Sulp.
This cannot anger him. 'Twould anger him
To raise a Spirit in his Lady's Arms,
Till she had laid and charm'd it down agen.

Gran.
Let's go: h' has hid himself among these Trees,
To dy his melancholick Mind in Night.
Blind is his Love, and best befits the Dark.

Sulpit.
Pox o' this Love, this little Scarcrow Love,
That frights Fools with his painted Bow of Lath
Out of their feeble sense.

Gran.
Stop there ... let's leave the Subject and its Slave;
Or burn Metellus House about his ears.

Sulpit.
This morning Sylla means to enter Rome:
Your Father too demands the Consulship.
Yet now when he shou'd think of cutting Throats,
Your Brother's lost; lost in a maze of Love,
The idle Truantry of Callow Boys.
I'd rather trust my Fortunes with a Daw,
That hops at every Butterfly he sees,
Then have to doe in honour with a man
That sells his Vertue for a Woman's Smiles.... [Exeunt. Enter Marius junior in the Garden.

Mar. jun.
He laughs at Wounds that never felt their smart.
What Light is that which breaks through yonder Shade? Lavinia in the Balcony.
Oh! 'tis my Love.
She seems to hang upon the cheek of Night,
Fairer then Snow upon the Raven's back,
Or a rich Jewel in an Æthiop's ear.
Were she in yonder Sphear, she'd shine so bright,
That Birds would sing and think the Day were breaking.

Lavin.
Ah me!

Mar. jun.
She speaks.
Oh! speak agen, bright Angel: for thou art
As glorious to this Night, as Sun at Noon
To the admiring eyes of gazing Mortals,
When he bestrides the lazy puffing Clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the Air.

Lavin.
O Marius, Marius! wherefore art thou Marius?
Deny thy Family, renounce thy Name:
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my Love,
And I'll no longer call Metellus Parent.

Mar. jun.
Shall I hear this, and yet keep silence?

Lavin.
No.
'Tis but thy Name that is my Enemy.
Thou would'st be still thy self, though not a Marius,
Belov'd of me, and charming as thou art.
What's in a Name? that which we call a Rose,
By any other name wou'd smell as sweet.
So Marius, were he not Marius call'd,
Be still as dear to my desiring Eyes,
Without that Title. Marius, lose thy Name,
And for that Name, which is no part of Thee,
Take all Lavinia.

Mar. jun.
At thy word I take thee.
Call me but Thine, and Joys will so transport me,
I shall forget my self, and quite be chang'd.

Lavin.
Who art Thou, that thus hid and veil'd in Night
Hast overheard my Follies?

Mar. jun.
By a Name
I know not how to tell thee who I am.
My Name, dear Creature,'s hatefull to my self,
Because it is an Enemy to Thee.

Lavin.
Marius? how cam'st thou hither? tell, and why?
The Orchard-walls are high, and hard to climb,
And the place Death, consid'ring who thou art,
If any of our Family here find thee.
By whose Directions didst thou find this place?

Mar. jun.
By Love, that first did prompt me to enquire.
He lent me Counsell, and I lent him Eyes.
I am no Pilot; yet wert thou as far
As the vast Shoar washt by the farthest Sea,
I'd hazard Ruine for a Prize so dear.—

Lavin.
Oh Marius! vain are all such Hopes and Wishes.
The hand of Heav'n has thrown a Bar between us,
Our Houses Hatred and the Fate of Rome,
Where none but Sylla must be happy now.
All bring him Sacrifices of some sort,
And I must be a Victim to his Bed.
To night my Father broke the dreadfull news;
And when I urg'd him for the Right of Love,
He threaten'd me to banish me his House,
Naked and shiftless to the World. Would'st thou,
Marius, receive a Beggar to thy Bosom?

Mar. jun.
Oh! were my Joys but fixt upon that point,
I'd then shake hands with Fortune and be friends;
Thus grasp my Happiness, embrace it thus,
And bless th'ill turn that gave thee to my Arms.

Lavin.
Thou know'st the mark of Night is on my Face,
Else should I blush for what th' hast heard me speak.
Fain would I dwell on Form; fain, fain deny
The things I've said: but farewell all such Follies.
Dost thou then love? I know thou'lt say thou dost;
And I must take thy word, though thou prove false.

Mar. jun.
By yon bright Cynthia's beams that shines above.

Lavin.
Oh! swear not by the Moon, th' inconstant Moon,
That changes Monthly, and shines but by seasons,
Lest that thy Love prove variable too.

Mar. jun.
What shall I swear by?

Lavin.
Do not swear at all.
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious Self,
Who art the God of my Idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Mar. jun.
Witness, all ye Powr's.

Lavin.
Nay, do not swear: although my Joy be great,
I'm hardly satisfy'd with this night's Contract:
It seems too rash, too unadvis'd and sudden,
Too like the Lightning, which does cease to be
E're one can say it is. Therefore this time
Good night, my Marius: may a happier hour
Bring us to crown our Wishes.

Mar. jun.
Why wilt thou leave me so unsatisfy'd?

Lavin.
What wouldst thou have?

Mar. jun.
Th' Exchange of Love for mine.

Lavin.
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
And yet I wish I could retrieve it back.

Mar. jun.
Why?

Lavin.
But to be frank, and give it thee agen.
My Bounty is as boundless as the Sea,
My Love as deep: the more I give to Thee,
The more I have: for both are Infinite.
I hear a Noise within. Farewell, my Marius;
Or stay a little, and I'll come agen.

Mar. jun.
Stay? sure for ever.

Lavin.
Three words, and, Marius, then good night indeed.
If that thy Love be honourably meant,
Thy purpose Marriage, send me word to morrow,
And all my Fortunes at thy feet I'll lay.

Nurse within.
Madam!

Lavin.
I come anon. But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee,

Nurse within.
Madam! Madam!....

Lavin.
By and by, I come.
To cease thy Suit, and leave me to my Griefs.
To morrow I will send..... [Exit.

Mar. jun.
So thrive my Soul. Is not all this a Dream,
Too lovely, sweet and flatt'ring, to be true? Re-enter Lavinia.

Lavin.
Hist, Marius, hist. Oh for a Falkner's voice,
To Lure this Tassell-gentle back agen.
Restraint has Fears, and may not speak aloud:
Else would I tear the Cave where Echo lies,
With repetition of my Marius.—

Mar. jun.
It is my Love that calls me back agen.
How sweetly Lovers voices sound by night!
Like softest Musick to attending ears.

Lavin.
Marius.

Mar. jun.
My dear.

Lavin.
What a clock to morrow?

Mar. jun.
At the hour of nine.

Lavin.
I will not fail: 'Tis twenty years till then.
Why did I call thee back?

Mar. jun.
Let me here stay till thou remember'st why.

Lavin.
The Morning's breaking, I wou'd have thee gone,
And yet no farther then a Wanton's Bird,
That lets it hop a little from his hand,
To pull it by its Fetters back agen.

Mar. jun.
Would I were thine.

Lavin.
Indeed and so would I.
Yet I should kill thee sure with too much cherishing.
No more... Good night.

Mar. jun.
There's such sweet Pain in parting,
That I could hang for ever on thy Arms,
And look away my life into thy Eyes.

Lavin.
To morrow will come.

Mar. jun.
So it will. Good night.
Heav'n be thy Guard, and all its Blessings wait thee... [Ex. Lavin.
To morrow! 'tis no longer: but Desires
Are swift, and longing Love wou'd lavish time.
To morrow! oh to morrow! till that come,
The tedious Hours move heavily away,
And each long Minute seems a lazy Day.
Already Light is mounted in the Air,
Striking it self through every Element.
Our Party will by this time be abroad,
To try the Fate of Marius and Rome.
Love and Renown sure court me thus together.
Smile, smile, ye Gods, and give Success to both. [Exit. Scene 2 SCENE the Forum. Enter Four Citizens.

3. Cit.

Well, Neighbours, now we are hear, what must we doe?

1. Cit.

Why, you must give your Vote for Caius Marius to be Consul: and if any body speaks against you, knock 'em down.

2. Cit.

The truth on't is, there's nothing like a Civil Government, where good Subjects may have leave to knock Brains out to maintain Privileges.

3. Cit.

Look you .... but what's this Sylla? this Sylla? I've heard great talk of him.... He's a damnable fighting fellow they say; but hang him ... he's a Lord.

1. Cit.

Ay, so he is, Neighbours: and I know not why any one should be a Lord more then another. I care not for a Lord: what good do they doe? nothing but run in our debts, and ly with our Wives.—

4. Cit.

Why, there's a Grievance now. I have three Boys at home, no more mine then Rome's mine. They are all fair curl'd-hair Cupids; and I am an honest black tawny Kettle-fac'd Fellow.... I'll ha' no Lords. ...

1. Cit.

Hark! hark! Drums and Trumpets! Drums and Trumpets! They are coming. Be you sure you roar out for a Marius: and doe as much mischief as you can.—

Marius born upon the Shoulders of two Roman Slaves; Sulpitius at the head of the Guards. [Trumpets.

Sulpit.
Harken, ye men of Rome. I, I Sulpitius,
Your Tribune, and Protectour of your Freedoms,
By virtue of that Office here have call'd you,
To chuse a Consul. Mithridates King of Pontus has begun a War upon us,
Invaded our Allies, our Edicts violated,
And threatens Rome it self. Whom will you chuse
To lead you forth in this most glorious War?
Marius, or Sylla?

All Cit.
A Marius! a Marius! a Marius!

Mar. sen.
Countrymen,
And Fellow-citizens, my Brethren all,
Or, if it may be thought a dearer name,
My Sons, my Children, glory of my Age;
I come not hither arm'd to force your Suffrage,
As Sylla does to enter Rome with Pow'r,
As if he meant a Triumph o're his Country.
I have not made a Party in the Senate,
To bring you into Slavery, or load
Your Necks with the hard Yoak of Lordly pow'r.
I am no Noble, but a Free-born man,
A Citizen of Rome, as all you are,
A Lover of your Liberties and Laws,
Your Rights and Privileges. Witness here
These Wounds, which in your Service I have got,
And best plead for me.....

All Cit.
Marius! Marius! Marius! No Sylla! no Sylla! no Sylla!

Sulpit.
No more remains,
Most honourable Consul, but that straight you mount
The Seat-Tribunall.... Lictors, bring your Rods,
Axes and Fasces, and present 'em here.
Hail, Caius Marius, Consul of the War.

-- 23 --

Trumpets. Enter Metellus, Cinna, Antonius, Quintus Pompeius, his Son, &c. Guards.

Metell.
See, Romans, there the Ruine of your Freedome,
The blazing Meteor that bodes ill to Rome.
Oppression, Tyranny, Avarice and Pride,
All center in that melancholick Brow.
If you are mad for Slavery, long to try
The weight of abs'lute Chains, once more proclaim him,
And shout so loud till Mithridates hear,
And laugh to think your Throats fit for his Sword.
Take Me, take all your Senatours, and drag
Us headlong to the Tiber .... plunge us in,
And bid adieu to Liberty for ever—
Then turn and fall before your new-made God;
Bring your Estates, your Children and your Wives,
And lay 'em at the feet of his Ambition.
This you must doe, and well it will become
Such Slaves, who sell their Charters for a Holiday.

Cit.
No Marius! no Marius!

Metell.
Quintus Pompeius, in the Senate's name,
As Consul, we command thee to demand
Justice of Marius, and proclaim him Traitour.

Q. Pomp.
Descend then, Marius, Traitour to the State
And Liberty of Rome, and hear thy Sentence.

Mar. sen.
Now, by the Gods, this Cause is worthy of me,
Worthy my Fate.
Is this the Right and Liberty of Rome,
To pull its lawfull Consul from his Seat,
Unjudg'd, and brand him with the mark of Traitour?
Draw all your Swords, all you that are my Friends.
Sulpitius, dam the Rabble, let 'em fall
Like common Dross with that well-spoken Fool,
That popular Clack: or let us sell our Fates
So dear, that Rome may sicken with our Fall.

All Cit.
No Marius! no Marius! Down with him; down with him...

Sulp.
Ha! what art Thou?

Y. Pomp.
The Consul's Son.

Sulp.
A Worm;
A thin Skin full of Dirt; and thus I tread thee
Into thy mother Earth..... [Kills him.

Mar. sen.
Drag hence that Traitour,
And bring me straight his Head upon thy Dart.
The Fate of Rome's begun.

Q. Pomp.
Our Children murther'd,

-- 24 --

Thus massacred before our eyes? Come all
That love Pompeius, and revenge his Loss.

Sulpit.
Fall on.

All Cit.
No Marius! no Marius! Liberty! Liberty! &c. They fight. Marius conquers....

Mar. sen.
Thanks for this good beginning, Gods. These Slaves,
These wide-mouth'd Brutes that bellow thus for Freedome,
Oh! how they ran before the hand of Pow'r,
Flying for shelter into every Brake!
Like cow'rdly fearful Sheep they break their Herd,
When the Wolf's out, and ranging for his Prey.
Sulpitius, thy Guards did noble Service.

Sulpit.
Oh! they are Fellows fit for you and I,
Fit for the work of Power: say the word,
Not one amongst 'em all but what shall run,
Take an old grumbling Senatour by th' Beard,
And shake his Head off from his shrinking Shoulders.

Mar. sen.
Sylla, I hear, is at the Gates of Rome.
Proclaim straight Liberty to every Slave
That will but own the Cause of Caius Marius.
Horrour, Confusion, and inverted Order,
Vast Desolation, Slaughter, Death and Ruine
Must have their Courses e're this Ferment settle.
  “Thus the Great Jove above, who rules alone,
  “When men forget his Godlike Pow'r to own,
  “Uses no common means, no common ways,
  “But sends forth Thunder, and the World obeys. [Ex. omnes. The end of the Second ACT.

-- 25 --

ACT III. Scene 1 Enter Sulpitius, Granius, and all the Guards.

Sulpit.
Rome never saw a Morning sure like this:
Now she begins to know the Rod of Pow'r,
Her wanton Bloud can smart.
Were I the Consul, not a Head in Rome
That had but Thoughts of Sylla should stand safe.

Gran.
Slaughter shou'd have continu'd with the Day.
Mercy but gives Sedition time to rally.
Ev'ry soft, pliant, talking, busy Rogue,
Gathering a Flock of hot-brain'd Fools together,
Can preach up new Rebellion. Till the Heads
Of all those heav'nly-inspired Knaves be crush'd,
No Power can be safe.....

Sulp.
Much will this day
Determine; Sylla's now before the Walls,
And all his Forces ready for command.
Four thousand Slaves have taken hold on Freedome,
And come on Proclamation to our side.

Gran.
Where should my Brother be? he came not home to night.

Sulpit.
Think of him as a Wretch that's dead,
Stabb'd with an Eye, run through the Brains with Love.

Gran.
He talkt of sending Sylla a Defiance.

Sulpit.
Writ with a Pen made of a Cupid's Quill.

Gran.
Why, what is Sylla?

Sulpit.
A most courageous Captain at a Congee:
He fights by measure, as your Artists sing,
Keeps Distance, Time, Proportion, rests his Rests,
One, two, and the third in your Guts.
Oh! he's the very Butcher of a Button.

Gran.
Would I could see my Brother. That damn'd love
Of Women ruins noblest purposes.

Sulpit.
That Sex was first in mockery of us made.
They are the false deceitfull Glasses where
We gaze, and dress our selves to all the shapes
Of Folly. What is't Women cannot doe?
She'll make a States-man quite forget his Cunning,
And trust his dearest Secrets to her Breast,
Where Fops have daily entrance: make a Priest,
Forgetting the hypocrisy of's Office,

-- 26 --

Dance and show tricks, to prove his strength and brawn:
Make a Projector quibble, an old Judge
Put on False hair, and paint: and after all,
Though she be known the lewdest of her Sex,
She'll make some Fool or other think she's honest.
Your Father promis'd me to meet me here.
I wonder he delays so long.

Gran.
He comes.
And with him too my Brother.

Sulpit.
See your General,
Salute him all my Fellow-souldiers. [Shout.

Mar. sen.
This,
Sulpitius, looks like Power. Granius, here
Receive thy Brother to thy Arms and bless him:
H' has done a thing most worthy of our Name,
Sent a Defiance into Sylla's Camp,
Challenging forth the stoutest Champion there,
In vindication of his Father's Cause.
And not an Out-law there dare send his Answer.
Once more, Sulpitius, are the People ours,
Enrag'd with Sylla's coming arm'd, to force
The City. At the Celimontane Gate
He's posted now: let's send him straight Commands
I' th' name o'th'Senate and the Roman People,
T' advance no farther, till the state of Rome
Be heard in publick, and my Choice confirm'd,
Or he continu'd Consul.....

Sulpit.
That would be
But to prolong Necessity; for Rome
Must bleed: and since the Rabble now is ours,
Keep the Fools hot, preach Dangers in their Ears,
Spread false Reports o'th' Senate, working up
Their Madness to a Fury quick and desp'rate,
Till they run headlong into civil Discords,
And doe our business with their own Destruction.
Granius, go thou,
Send word to Sylla that he lay down Arms,
And render up himself to Rome.

Mar. jun.
There's still
A dangerous Wheel at work, a Thoughtfull Villain,
Cinna, wh'has rais'd his Fortune by the Jars
And Discords of his Country: like a Fly
O're Flesh, he buzzes about itching Ears,
Till he has vented his Infection there,
To fester into Rancour and Sedition.
Would he were safe.

-- 27 --

Mar. sen.
And safe he shall be: let him be proscrib'd,
The Fine upon his head its weight in Gold.
Wou'd I cou'd buy Metellus's as cheap.
I have a tender Foolishness within me
May sometimes get the better of my Rage:
Sulpitius, therefore keep me warm; still ply
My ebbing Fury with the Thoughts of Sylla,
Th' ingratefull Senate, and Metellus Pride;
And let not any thing may make me dreadfull
Be left undone. Now to our Troups let's hasten,
And wait for Sylla's Answer at our Arms. Ex. Mar. sen. & Granius.

Sulpit.
Is not this better now then whining Love?
Now thou again art Marius, son of Arms,
Thy Father's Honour, and thy Friends Delight. Enter Nurse and Clodius.

Mar. jun.
Sulpitius, what comes here? a Sail, Sulpitius.

Sulpit.
A tatter'd one, and weather-beaten much.
Many a boistrous Storm has she bin toss'd in,
And many a Pilot kept her to the wind.

Nurse.
Clodius.

Clod.
Madam.

Sulpit.
Madam.

Nurse.
My Fan, Clodius.

Sulpit.
Ay, good Clodius, to hide her Face.

Nurse.
Good morrow, Gentlemen.

Sulpit.
Good even, fair Gentlewoman.

Nurse.
Fair Gentlewoman? really 'tis very hot.

Sulpit.
It should be so by your Ladyship's parcht Face.

Nurse.
Marry come up, my Gossip: whose man are you?

Sulpit.
A Woman's man, my Sibyll, wouldst thou try
My strength in Feats of amorous engagement.
Lead me amongst the Beauteous, where they run
Wild in their Youth, and wanton to their Wildness,
Where I may chuse the foremost of the Herd,
And bear her trembling to some Bank, bedeckt
With sweetest Flowers, such as Joy would chuse
To dwell in; throw my inspir'd Arms about her,
And press her till she thought her self more blest
Then Io panting with the Joys of Jove.

Nurse.

Panting? Joys? and Jove? now by my troth, 'tis very pretty. But, Gentlemen, can any of you tell where I may find young Marius?

Mar. jun.
Yes, I can tell you, Madam. I am he.

-- 28 --

Sulpit.
Hah! by this light, a Baud. So ho!
Come let's away. I hate a morning-Bawd,
That stinks of last-night's office..... [Ex. Sulpit.

Nurse.
Pray, Sir, what sawcy Fellow's he that's gone?

Mar. jun.

A Gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute then he'll stand to in a month.

Nurse.

And he speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, and he were lustier then he is, and twenty such Jacks; or I'll find those that shall. But now, Sir, I wish you much Joy.... I hear you are—

Mar. jun.
Marry'd, this day the blessed deed was done.
When the unhappy Discords first took flame
Betwixt my Father and the Senate; then
A holy Priest of Hymen, whom with Gold
I brib'd to yield us privately his Office,
Joyn'd our kind Hands, and now She's ever mine.

Nurse.

Well: 'fore God, I am so vext, that every part about me quivers. But pray, Sir, a word: and, as I told you, my young Lady bade me find you out. What she bade me say, I'll keep to my self. But first let me tell you; if you have led her into a Fool's Paradise, as they say; for the Gentlewoman is young, and therefore if you should deal doubly with her, though you don't look like a Gentleman that wou'd use double-dealing with a Lady.—

Mar. jun.

Commend me to thy Lady. I protest—

Nurse.

Good heart, and i' faith I will tell as much. Lord! Lord! she will be a joyfull Woman.

Mar. jun.
Bid her devise this Evening to receive
Me at her Window: here is for thy pains..... [Gives money.

Nurse.
No truly, Sir; not a Drachma.

Mar. jun.
Away; I say you shall.

Nurse.
This Evening, say you? well, she shall be there.

Mar. jun.
And stay, kind Nurse, behind the Garden-wall.
Within this hour my man shall meet thee there,
And bring thee Cords made like a Tackling-Ladder,
Which to the blessed Mansion of my Joy
Must be my Conduct in the secret Night.
Farewell.... be true, and I'll reward thy pains.

Nurse.
Now Heav'ns bless thee. ... Hark you, Sir.

Mar. jun.
What say'st thou, Nurse?

Nurse.

Nothing, but that my Mistriss is the sweetest Lady. Lord! Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing .... Oh! .... there's a Spark, one Sylla, that wou'd fain have a finger in the py .... but she, good soul, had as lieve hear of a Toad, a very Toad, as hear of him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her Sylla is the properer man.... But I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any Clout in the versall world. Well, you'll be sure to come....

-- 29 --

Mar. jun.

As sure as truth.

Nurse.

Well, when it was a Little thing, and us'd to ly with me, it wou'd so kick, so sprawl, and so play .... and then I would tickle it, and then it would laugh, and then it would play agen. When it had tickling and playing enough, it would go to sleep as gently as a Lamb. I shall never forget it.... Then you'll be sure to come....

Mar. jun.

Can I forget to live?

Nurse.

Nay, but swear though.

Mar. jun.

By this Kiss, which thou shalt carry to Lavinia.—

Nurse.

Oh! dear Sir, by no means. Indeed you shall not. I have bin drinking Aqua vitæ. Oh! those Eyes of yours!

Mar. jun.

Till night farewell....

Nurse.

Till night; I'll say no more, but da da. Come, Clodius. Ah! those Eyes!

[Ex. Nurse & Clodius.

Mar. jun.
What pains she takes with her officious Folly?
How happy is the Evening-tide of Life,
When Phlegm has quencht our Passions, trifling out
The feeble Remnant of our silly Days
In Follies, such as Dotage best is pleas'd with,
Free from the wounding and tormenting Cares
That toss the thoughtfull, active, busy Mind?
Though this Day be the dearest of my Life,
There's something hangs most heavy on my Heart,
And my Brain's sick with Dulness. Enter Marius senior.

Mar. sen.
Where's this Loyterer,
This most inglorious Son of Caius Marius?
With folded Arms and down-cast Eyes he stands,
The Marks and Embleme of a Woman's Fool.

Mar. jun.
My Father.

Mar. sen.
Call me by some other Name;
Disgrace me not: I'm Marius;
And surely Marius has small right in Thee.
Would Sylla's Soul were thine, and thine were his,
That he, as Thou hast done, now Glory calls,
Might run for shelter to a Woman's Arms,
And hide him in her Bosome like a Babe.

Mar. jun.
Then I'm a Coward.

Mar. sen.
Art thou not?

Mar. jun.
I am,
That thus can bear Reproaches, and yet live.
Durst any man but you have call'd me so?
Oh! let me fall, embrace and kiss your Feet.
Y'have rais'd a Spirit in me prompts my Heart

-- 30 --

To such a Work as Fame ne'r talkt of yet.
How 'll you dispose Lavinia?

Mar. sen.
Let her fall,
As I would all her Family and Name,
Forgotten that they either ever gave
Thy Father's Head Dishonour, or thee Pain.

Mar. jun.
'Twas an unlucky Sentence. She's scarce more
Metellus Daughter now then Your's: our Hands
Were by a Priest this morning joyn'd. May Heav'n
Avert th' ill Omen, and preserve my Father.

Mar. sen.
Marry'd? say ruin'd, lost, and curst.

Mar. jun.
Y' have torn
The Secret from me, and I wait your Doom.....

Mar. sen.
Go where I never more may hear thee nam'd;
Go farthest from me, get thee to Metellus,
Fall on thy Knees, and henceforth call him Parent.
I've yet one Son, that surely wo'n't forsake me:
Else in this Breast I still have glorious Thoughts,
That will at least give Lustre to my Ruine.
Farewell.... my once best Hopes, now greatest Shame.

Mar. jun.
Condemn me rather to the worst of Deaths,
Or send me chain'd to Sylla like a Slave,
Then banish me the blessing of your Presence.
I've thought and bounded all my Wishes so,
To dy for You is Happiness enough;
'Twould be too much t'enjoy Lavinia too.

Mar. sen.
Again Lavinia?

Mar. jun.
Yes, this Coward Slave,
This most inglorious Son of Caius Marius,
Though wedded to the brightest Beauty, rais'd
To th' highest expectation of Delight,
Ev'n in this Minute when Love prompts his Heart,
And tells what mighty Pleasures are preparing,
Is Master of a Mind unfetter'd yet.

Mar. sen.
What canst thou doe?

Mar. jun.
This Night I should have gone,
And ta'ne possession of Lavinia's Bed.
But by the Gods, these Eyes no more shall see her,
Till I 've done something that's above Reward,
And you your self present her to my Arms.

Mar. sen.
Why dost thou talk thus to me? [Trumpets.

Mar. jun.
Hark,
The Trumpets sound, and Business is at hand.
It seems as if our Guards upon the Walls
Were just engag'd, and Sylla come upon em.
The Gods have done me Justice.

-- 31 --

Mar. sen.
Get thee gone,
And leave me to my Fate,
Thou maim'd and wounded, and unfit for War.

Mar. jun.
I'll follow you.....

Mar. sen.
Thou shalt not.

Mar. jun.
By the Gods, I will.

Mar. sen.
How? disobey'd then?

Mar. jun.
Bid a Courser spurr'd
Stop in his full Career; bid Tides run back,
Or sailing Ships stand still before the wind,
Or Winds themselves not blow when Jove provokes 'em.

Mar. sen.
Away, and do not tempt my Fury farther.

Mar. jun.
Why? would you kill me?

Mar. sen.
No, no: I hope thou art reserv'd yet for
A better Fate.

Mar. jun.
Thanks, Heav'n.
These few kind words shew I'm not quite unhappy.

Mar. sen.
Then do not contradict my will in this;
But part, and when our hands next meet agen,
Be't in the Heart of Sylla or Metellus.... [Exit. [Trumpets agen.

Mar. jun.
Sound higher, ye shrill Instruments of War,
And urge its Horrours up, till they become,
If possible, as terrible as mine.
Oh my Lavinia! though this Night I fail,
At my return I shall be doubly happy.
Such Trials the great ancient Hero's past,
Who little present Happiness could tast,
Yet did great Actions, and were Gods at last. [Exit. Scene 2 SCENE Metellus house. Enter Lavinia.

Lavin.
Gallop apace, ye firy-footed Steeds,
Tow'rds Phœbus Lodging. Such a Charioteer
As Phaëton would lash you to the West,
And bring in cloudy Night immediately.
Spread thy close Curtains Love-performing Night
To sober-suited Matron all in black;
That jealous eyes may wink, and Marius
Leap to these Arms untalkt-of and unseen.
Oh! give me Marius; and when he shall dy,

-- 32 --

Take him, and cut him out in little Stars;
And he will make the Face of Heav'n so fine,
That all the world shall grow in love with Night,
And pay no worship to the gaudy Sun.
Oh! I have bought the Mansion of a Love,
But not possest it.... Tedious is this Day,
As is the Night before some Festival
To an impatient Child that has new Robes, Enter Nurse and Clodius.
And may not wear 'em. Welcome, Nurse: what news?
How fares the Lord of all my Joys, my Marius?

Nurse.
Oh! a Chair! a Chair! no Questions, but a Chair! So.

Lavin.
Nay, prithee Nurse, why dost thou look so sad?
Oh! do not spoil the Musick of good Tidings
With such a melancholick wretched Face.

Nurse.
Oh! I am weary, very weary. Clodius, my Cordial-bottle.
Fy! how my bones ake! what a Jaunt have I had!

Lavin.
Do not delay me thus, but quickly tell me,
Will Marius come to night? speak, will he come?

Nurse.

Alas! alas! what haste? oh! cannot you stay a little? oh! do not you see that I'm out of breath? oh this Ptisick! Clodius, the Cordial.

Lavin.
Th' Excuse thou mak'st for this unkind Delay
Is longer then the Tale thou hast to tell.
Is thy News good or bad? answer to that.
Say either, and I'll stay the Circumstance.

Nurse.

Well, you have made a simple Choice: you know not how to chuse a man. Yet his Leg excells all mens. And for a Hand and a Foot and a Shape, though they are not to be talkt of.... yet they are past compare. What, have you Din'd within?

Lavin.
No, no: what foolish Questions dost thou ask?
What says he of his Coming? what of that?

Nurse.
Oh! how my Head akes! what a Head have I!
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My Back o'tother side! ah! my Back! my Back!
Beshrew your heart for sending me about
To catch my Death.... This Back of mine will break. [Drinks.

Lavin.
Indeed I'm sorry if thou art not well.
But prithee tell me, Nurse, what says my Love?

Nurse.

Why, your Love says like an honest Gentleman, and a kind Gentleman, and a handsome.... and I'll warrant a vertuous Gentleman. [Drinks.] Well... what? where's your Father?

Lavin.
Where's my Father? why, he's at the Senate.
How odly thou reply'st?

-- 33 --

Your Love says like an honest Gentleman,
Where's your Father?

Nurse.
Oh good Lady dear!
Are you so hot? marry come up, I trow.
Is this a Poultice for my aking Bones?
Henceforward do your Messages your self.

Lavin.
Nay, prithee be not angry, Nurse; I meant
No ill. Speak kindly, will my Marius come?

Nurse.
Will he? will a Duck swim?

Lavin.
Then he will come.

Nurse.
Come? why, he will come upon all four, but he'll come.
Go, get you in, and say your Prayers: go.

Lavin.
For Blessings on my Marius and Thee.

Nurse.
Well, it would be a sad thing though....

Lavin.
What?

Nurse.

If Marius should not come now .... for there's old doings at the Gates, they are at it ding-dong. Tantarara go the Trumpets; Shout, cry the Souldiers; Clatter go the Swords. I'll warrant... I made no small haste....

Lavin.
And is my Marius there? alas my Fears! [Trumpets.
The Noise comes this way. Guard my Love, ye Gods,
Or strike me with your Thunder when he falls. [Exeunt. Scene 3 SCENE the Forum. Enter Marius senior, Marius junior, Granius, Sulpitius, Catulus, &c. Guards, Lictors, on one side: Metellus, Sylla, Quintus Pompeius, Guards, on the other. [Trumpets sound a March.

Metell.
Oh thou God,
Deliverer of Rome, most blest of men!
See here the Fathers of thy bleeding Country
Prostrate for Refuge at thy feet: see there
The Terrour of our Freedome, and thy Foe,
The Persecuter of thy Friends, the Scourge
Of Truth and Justice, and the Plague of Rome.

Mar. sen.
What art Thou, that canst lend thy slavish ears
To flattering Hypocrisy?

Sylla.
My Name thou hast heard,
And fled from. I am the Friend of Rome,
The Terrour and the Bane of thee her Foe.

-- 34 --

Mar. sen.
If th' art her Friend, why com'st thou here thus arm'd,
Slaughtering her Citizens, and laying waste her Walls?

Sylla.
To free her from a Tyrant's Power.

Mar. sen.
Who is that Tyrant?

Sylla.
Thou, who hast opprest
Her Senate, made thy self by force a Consul,
Set free her Slaves, and arm'd 'em 'gainst her Laws.

Mar. sen.
Hear this, ye Romans, and then judge my Wrongs.
Have I opprest you? have I forc'd your Laws?
Am I a Tyrant? I, whom ye have rais'd,
For my true Services, to what I am?
Remember th' Ambrons, Cimbri, and the Teutons;
Remember the Confederate War.

Sylla.
Where thou,
Cold and delaying, wert by Silo brav'd,
Scorn'd by thy Souldiers, and at last compell'd
Ingloriously to quit th' unwieldy Charge.
Remember too who banisht good Metellus,
The Friend and Parent of thy obscure Family,
That rais'd thee from a Peasant to a Lord.

Mar. sen.
Basely thou wrongst the Truth. My Actions rais'd me.
Hadst thou bin born a Peasant, still thou'dst bin so:
But I by Service to thy Country 'ave made
My Name renown'd in Peace, and fear'd in War.

Sylla.
In the Jugurthine War, whose King was taken
Pris'ner by me, and Marius triumpht for't.

Mar. sen.
Thou stol'st him basely, stol'st him at the price
Of his Wive's Lust: thou barterd'st his Betraying,
And in the Capitol hast Pageants set
In memory of thy Vanity and Shame.

Syll.
Thy Shame.

Mar. sen.
My Honour, proud presumptuous Boy,
Who wouldst be gaudy in an unfit Dress,
And wear my cast-off Glories after me.

Syll.
I'd rather wear some Beggar's rotten Rags,
By him left dangling on a high-way Hedge,
Then soil my Laurels with a Leaf of thine,
Thou scorn'd Plebeian.

Mar. sen.
Worst Perdition catch thee.

Syll.
Disband that Rout of Rebells at thy heels,
And yield thy self to Justice and the Senate.

Mar. sen.
Justice from Thee demanded on my Head?
First clear thy self, quit thy usurpt Command;
Approach and kneel to me, whom thou hast wrong'd.

Syll.
Upon thy Neck I would.

Mar. sen.
As soon thou'dst take

-- 35 --

A Lion by the bread: thou dar'st not think on't.

Syll.
I dare, and more.

Mar. sen.
Then, Gods, I take your word;
If there be truth in you, I shall not fall
This day. My Friends and Fellow-souldiers, now
Fight as I've seen you: for the Life of Sylla,
Leave it to me; for much Revenge must go
Along with Death when such a Victim bleeds.

Syll.
My Lords, withdraw.

Metell.
No, trust the Gods, I'll see
My Country's Fate, and with her live or dy.

Mar. sen.
Now, Sylla.

Syll.
Now, my Veterans, consider
You fight for Laws, for Liberty, and Life.

Mar. sen.
Rebellion never wanted that Pretence.
Thou Shadow of what I have bin, thou Puppet
Of that great State and Honours I have born,
If thou'lt doe something worthy of thy place,
Let's join our Battel with a Force may glut
The Throat of Death, and choak him with himself;
As fiercely as destroying Whirlwinds rise,
Or as Clouds dash when Thunder shakes the Skies. [Trumpets sound a Charge: They fight. Re-enter Marius senior taken by Sylla's party.

Mar. sen.
Forsaken, and a Pris'ner? Is this all
That's left of Marius? the old naked Trunk
Of that tall Pine that was? Away, ye Shrubs,
Ye clinging Brambles; do not clog me thus,
But let me run into the Jaws of Death,
And finish my ill Fate. Or must I be
Preserv'd a publick Spectacle, expos'd
To Scorn, and make a Holyday for Slaves?
Oh! that Thought's Hell. Sure I should know thy Face.
Thou hast born Office under me. If e're
In my best Fortune I deserv'd thy Friendship,
Give me a Roman's Death, and set me free,
That no Dishonour in my Age o'retake me.

Officer.
I've serv'd and lov'd you well: nor would I see
Your Fall.... My Orders were, to save your Life.

Mar. sen.
Thou'rt a Time-server, that canst flatter Misery. Enter Marius junior, Granius and Sulpitius, Prisoners.
My Sons in Bonds too and Sulpitius?

-- 36 --

Sulpit.
Yes, the Rat-catchers have trapt me. Now must I
Be food for Crows, and stink upon a Tree,
Whilst Coxcombs strowl abroad on Holydays,
To take the Air, and see me rot. A pox
On Fortune, and a pox on that first Fool
That taught the world Ambition. Enter Quint. Pompeius, four Lictors before him.

Q. Pomp.
Draw near,
Ye men of Rome, and hear the Law pronounc'd.
Thou Marius, whose Ambition and whose Pride
Has cost so many Lives, the first that e're
Wag'd Civil Wars in Rome, Thee and thy Sons,
Thy Family and Kin, with that vile Slave
And Minister of all thy Outrages,
The curst Sulpitius, Banishment's thy lot;
After to morrow's Dawn if found i'th' City,
Death be thy Doom: so hath the Senate said.
So flourish Peace and Liberty in Rome. Ex. Quint. Pompeius, Lictors crying Liberty.

Mar. sen.
I thank ye, Gods, upon my knees I thank ye,
For plaguing me above all other men.
Come, ye young Hero's kneel and praise the Heav'ns,
For crowning thus your youthfull Hopes. Ha, ha, ha!
What pleasant Game hath Fortune play'd to day?
Oh! I could burst with Laughter. Why, now Rome's
At Peace. But may it be as short and vain,
As Joys but dreamt of, or as Sick mens Slumbers.
Now let's take hands, and bending to the Earth,
To all th'Infernall Powers let us swear.

All.
We swear.

Mar. sen.
That's well: By all the Destinies,
By all the Furies, and the Fiends that wait
About the Throne of Hell, and by Hell's King,
We'll bring Destruction to this cursed City;
Let not one Stone of all her Tow'rs stand safe.

Mar. jun.
Let not her Temples nor her Gods escape.

Gran.
Let Husbands in their Wives Embraces perish.

Mar. sen.
Her Young men massacred,

Sulpit.
Her Virgins ravisht.

Mar. jun.
And let her Lovers all my Torments feel,
Doating like me, and like me banished.
Thus let 'em Curse, thus raving tear their Hair,
And fall upon the ground as I do now.

-- 37 --

Mar. sen.
Rise then, and to Lavinia go. This Night's
Thy own.

Mar. jun.
And ever after Pain and Sorrow.
But go thou, find Lavinia's Woman out.... [To his servant.
Tell her I'll come and bid her chear my Love,
For I'll not fail, but in this Night enjoy
Whole Life, and forgive Nature what's to come.

Mar. sen.
Thus then let's part; each take his several way,
As to a Task of Darkness: when we meet
In hated Exile, we'll compute Accompts,
And see what Mischief each has gather'd then.
For, Rome, I shall be yet once more thy Lord,
If Oracles have truth, and Augurs ly not.
For yet a Child, and in my Father's Fields
Playing, I seven young Eagles chanc'd to find;
Which gathering up I to my Parents bore.
The Gods were sought: who promis'd me from thence
As many times the Consulate in Rome.
  Six times already I've that Office bore,
  And so far has the Prophecy prov'd true.
  But if I've manag'd ill the time that's past,
  And too remiss six elder Fortunes lost,
  The youngest Darling Fate is yet to come,
  And Thou shalt feel me then, Ungratefull Rome. [Exeunt. The end of the Third ACT.

-- 38 --

ACT IV. Scene 1 SCENE the Garden. Enter Lavinia and Marius junior.

Lavin.
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near Day.
It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark,
That pierc'd the fearfull hollow of thy Ear.
Nightly on yon Pomegranate-tree she sings.
Believe me, Love, it was the Nightingale.

Mar. jun.
Oh! 'twas the Lark, the Herald of the Morn,
No Nightingale. Look, Love, what envious Streaks
Of Light embroider all the cloudy East.
Night's Candles are burnt out, and jocund Day
Upon the Mountain-tops sits gaily drest,
Whilst all the Birds bring Musick to his Levy.
I must be gone and live, or stay and dy.....

Lavin.
Oh! oh! what wretched Fortune is my lot!
Sure, giving Thee, Heav'n grew too far in Debt
To pay, till Bankrupt-like it broke; whilst I,
A poor compounding Creditor, am forc'd
To take a Mite for endless Summs of Joy.

Mar. jun.
Let me be taken, let me suffer Death,
I am content, so Thou wilt have it so....
By Heav'n, yon gray is not the Morning's Eye,
But the Reflexion of pale Cynthia's Brightness.
Nor is't the Lark we hear, whose Notes do beat
So high, and Echo in the Vault of Heav'n.
I'm all desire to stay, no will to go.
How is't, my Soul? let's talk: it is not Day.

Lavin.
Oh! it is, it is.... Fly hence away, my Marius.
It is the Lark, and out of tune she sings,
With grating Discords and unpleasing Strainings.
Some say the Lark and loathsome Toad change Eyes:
Now I could wish they had chang'd Voices too;
Or that a Lethargy had seiz'd the Morning,
And she had slopt, and never wak'd agen,
To part me from th' Embraces of my Love.
What shall become of Me, when Thou art gone?

Mar. jun.
The Gods that heard our Vows, and know our Loves,

-- 39 --

Seing my Faith, and thy unspotted Truth,
Will sure take care, and let no Wrongs annoy thee.
Upon my Knees I'll ask 'em every day,
How my Lavinia does: and every night,
In the severe Distresses of my Fate,
As I perhaps shall wander through the Desart,
And want a place to rest my weary Head on,
I'll count the Stars, and bless 'em as they shine,
And court 'em all for my Lavinia's Safety.

Lavin.
Oh Banishment! eternal Banishment!
Ne'r to return! must we ne'r meet agen?
My Heart will break, I cannot think that Thought
And live. Cou'd I but see to th' end of Woe,
There were some Comfort .... but eternall Torment
Is even insupportable to Thought.
It cannot be that we shall part for ever.

Mar. jun.
No, for my Banishment may be recall'd;
My Father once more hold a Pow'r in Rome:
Then shall I boldly claim Lavinia mine,
Whilst happiest men shall envy at the Blessing,
And Poets write the Wonders of our Loves.

Lavin.
If by my Father's Cruelty I'm forc'd,
When left alone, to yield to Sylla's Claim,
Defenseless as I am, and thou far from me,
If, as I must, I rather dy then suffer't,
What a sad Tale will that be when 'tis told thee?
I know not what to fear, or hope, or think,
Or say, or doe. I cannot let thee go.

Mar. jun.
A Thousand things would, to this purpose said,
But sharpen and add weight to parting Sorrow.
Oh my Lavinia! if my Heart e're stray,.... [Kneels.
Or any other Beauty ever charm me,
If I live not entirely onely thine,
In that curst moment when my Soul forsakes thee,
May I be hither brought a Captive bound,
T' adorn the Triumph of my basest Foe.

Lavin.
And if I live not faithfull to the Lord
Of my first Vows, my dearest onely Marius,
May I be brought to Poverty and Scorn,
Hooted by Slaves forth from thy gates, O Rome,
Till flying to the Woods t'avoid my Shame,
Sharp Hunger, Cold, or some worse Fate destroy me;
And not one Tree vouchsafe a Leaf to hide me.

Mar. jun.
What needs all this?—

Lavin.
Oh! I could find out things
To talk to thee for ever.

-- 40 --

Mar. jun.
Weep not; the time
We had to stay together has bin employ'd
In richest Love.....

Lavin.
We ought to summon all
The spirit of soft Passion up, to chear
Our Hearts thus lab'ring with the pangs of Parting.
Oh my poor Marius!

Mar. jun.
Ah my kind Lavinia!

Lavin.
But dost thou think we e're shall meet agen?

Mar. jun.
I doubt it not, and all these Woes shall serve
For sweet Discourses in our time to come.

Lavin.
Alas! I have an ill-divining Soul;
Methinks I see thee, now thou'rt from my Arms,
Like a stark Ghost with Horrour in thy Visage.
Either my Eye-sight fails, or thou look'st pale.

Mar. jun.
And trust me, Love, in my Eye so dost Thou.
Dry Sorrow drinks our Bloud.... Farewell.

Lavin.
Farewell then. [Ex. Mar. jun.

Nurse within.
Madam.

Lavin.
My Nurse.

Nurse within.
Your Father's up, and Day-light broke abroad.
Be wary, look about you.....

Lavin.
Hah! is he gone? My Lord, my husband, Friend,
I must hear from thee every day i'th' hour:
For absent Minutes seem as many Days.
Oh! by this reck'ning I shall be most old,
E're I agen behold my Marius. Nay,
Gone too already? 'twas unkindly done,
I had not yet imparted half my Soul,
Not a third part of its fond jealous Fears.
But I'll pursue him for't, and be reveng'd;
Hang such a tender Tale about his Heart,
Shall make it tingle as his Life were stung.
Nay too.... I'll love him; never, never leave him;
Fond as a Child, and resolute as Man. Ex. Lavin. Enter Metellus musing.

Metell.
Sylla this morning parts from hence to Capua,
To head that Army. Cinna must be Consul:....
Ay, Cinna must be. He's a busy fellow,
Knows how to tell a story to the Rabble,
Hates Marius too: that, that's the dearest point.
I hope the Snares for Marius laid may take him.
A hundred horse are in pursuit to find him:
And if they catch him, his Head's safe, that's certain.

-- 41 --

Octavius will be the other.... be it so,
An honest, simple, downright-dealing Lord:
A little too Religious, that's his fault. Enter a Servant.
What now?

Servant.
A Letter left you by a Lictor,
Who told us that it came from the Lord Sylla.

Metellus reads the Letter.
Blame not, Sir, my parting
So suddenly: just now I've had advice
Of some Disturbance in the Camp at Capua.
Commend my tender'st Faith to fair Lavinia.
You're Sylla's Advocate with her and Rome. Enter Nurse.
Well, Nurse.

Nurse.
My Lord.

Metell.
How does my Daughter?

Nurse.
Truly very ill:
She has not slept a wink:
Nothing but toss'd and tumbled all this night;
I left her just now slumbering.
This Lord Sylla does so run in her Head.

Metell.
Oh! were he in her Heart, Nurse!

Nurse.
Were he?

Why, she thinks of nothing else, talks of nothing else, dreams of nothing else. She would needs have me ly with her th' other night. But about midnight (I'll swear it wak'd me out of a sweet Nap) she takes me fast in her Arms, and cries, Oh my Lord Sylla! but are you, will you be true? then sigh'd, and so stretcht....I swear I was half afraid.

Metell.
She's strangely alter'd then.
This Morning two new Consuls must be chosen.
If they are true, those tidings thou hast brought me,
Wait while she wakes, and tell her 'tis my pleasure,
At my return from th' Forum that I see her.... [Ex. Metell.

Nurse.

So, so;—here will be sweet doings in time. How many hundred lies a day must I tell, to keep this Family at peace?

Enter Lavinia.

Lavin.
Oh Nurse! where art thou? is my Father gone?

-- 42 --

Nurse.
Gone? yes; and would I were gone too.

Lavin.
Why dost thou sigh? what cause hast thou to wish so?
Wert thou distrest, unfortunate as I am,
Thou hadst then cause.
What shall I doe? Oh, how alone am I!
I walk methinks as half of me were lost;
Yet, like a maim'd Bird, flutter, flutter on,
And fain wou'd find a Hole to hide my head in.

Nurse.

'Odds my Boddikins! but why thus drest, Madam? why in this pickle, say you now?

Lavin.
Seem not to wonder, nor dare to oppose me,
For I am desperate, and resolv'd to Death.
In this unhappy, wayward, humble Dress,
After my Love a Pilgrimage I'll take,
Forsake deserted Rome, and find my Marius.

Nurse.

And I must stay behind to be hang'd up, like an old Polecat in a Warren, for a warning to all Vermine that shall come after me. Would I were fairly dead for a week, till this were over.

Lavin.
This Morning's opportunity is fair,
When all are busy in electing Consuls;
I shall escape unseen without the Gates,
And this night in a Litter reach Salonium.

Nurse.

I care not; I'll have nothing to doe in't: you sha'nt stir. Nay, I'll raise the House first. Why Clodius! Catulus! Sempronia! Thesbia! Men and Maids, where are you? Oh! oh! oh!...

Lav. gets from her. Nurse falls down. [Ex. Lavin. Enter Clodius.

Clod.

What's the matter, Mistriss?

Nurse.

Oh Clody, Clody, dear Clody! is't thee, my dear Clody? help me, help me up. Run to my Lord to the Forum presently: tell him his Treasury is robb'd, his House a-fire, his Daughter dead, and I mad. Run, run. You'll not run. Oh! oh!

[Exeunt. Scene 2 SCENE changes to the Country. Enter severall Herdsmen belonging to Marius.

1. Herds.

Good morrow, Brother, you have heard the News.

2. Herds.

News, quoth a? trim News truly.

-- 43 --

1. Herds.

Why, they say our Lord and Master's stept a one sides there any thing in't trow?

2. Herds.

Any thing in't? alas aday! alas aday! sad times! sad times, Brother! not a penny of money stirring.

1. Herds.

Nay, I thought there was no good Weather towards, when my bald-fac'd Heifer stuck up her Tail Eastward, and ran back into a new Quick-set, which I had just made to keep the Swine from the Beans.

2. Herds.

And t'other night, as I was at Supper, in the Chimny-corner, a whole Family of Swallows, that had occupy'd the Tenement these seven years, fell down, Nest and all, into the Porridge-pot, and spoil'd the Broath. Sad times! sad times, Brother!

3. Herds.

Did you meet no Troupers this way?

2. Herds.

Troupers? I saw a parcel of Raggooners, I think they call 'em, trotting along yon Wood-side upon ragged Hide-bound Jades. I warrant they came for no goodness.....

1. Herds.

'Twas to seek for Lord Marius, as sure as Eggs be Eggs. These-Bitious folk make more stir in the world then a thousand men. Would my Kine were all in their Stalls.

Enter severall Souldiers in quest of Marius.

1. Sould.

This is the way. How now, you pack of Boobies? whose Fools are you?

2. Herds.

Why, we are such Fools as you are; any bodie's Fools that will pay us our Wages.

2. Sould.

Do you belong to the Traitour Marius?

1. Herds.

We belong to Caius Marius, an't like your Worship.

1. Sould.

Why, this is a civil Fellow. But you, Rogue, you are witty and be hang'd, are you?

2. Herds.

I's poor enough to be witty, as you'r poor enough to be valiant. Had I but Money enough, I'd no more be a Wit then you'd be a Souldier.

2. Sould.

Let the hungry Churl alone.

1. Sould.

Hark you, you Dog; where's your Lord, the Traitour Marius?

2. Herds.

In a whole Skin, if he be wise.....

2. Sould.

Where is he, you Pultroon?

2. Herds.

Look you, I keep his Cows and his Oxen here at Salonium, but I keep none of him. If you must needs know where he is, then I must needs tell you I don't know.

1. Sould.

Let's to his house hard by, and ransack that. Sirrah, If we miss of him, you may repent this.

[Ex. Souldiers.

1. Herds.

'Tis all one to me, I must pay my Rent to some body.

2. Herds.

Why, this 'tis now to be a Great man. Heav'n keep me a Cow-keeper still.... I say....

-- 44 --

Enter Marius senior and Granius.

Mar. sen.
Where are we? are we yet not near Salonium?
Lead me to yonder shady Poplar, where
The poor old Marius a while may sit,
And joy in Rest. Oh my distemper'd Head!
The Sun has beat his Beams so hard upon me,
That my Brain's hot as molten Gold. My Skull!
Oh my tormented Skull! Oh Rome! Rome! Rome!
Hah! what are those?

Gran.
They seem, Sir, Rural Swains,
Who tend the Herds that graze beneath these Woods.

Mar. sen.
Who are you? to what Lord do ye belong?

2. Herds.

We did belong to Caius Marius once: but they say he's gone a Journey: and now we belong to one another.

Mar. sen.
Have ye forgot me then? ungratefull Slaves!
Are you so willing to disown your Master?
Who would have thought t' have found such Baseness here,
Where Innocence seems seated by the Gods,
As in her Virgin-nakedness untainted?
Confusion on ye, ye sordid Earthlings. [Ex. all but one.

1. Herds.
Oh fly, my Lord, your Foes are thick abroad:
Just now a Troup of Murtherers past this way,
And ask'd with horrour for the Traitour Marius.
By this time at Salonium, at your House,
They are in search of you. Fly, fly, my Lord.... [Exit.

Mar. sen.
I shall be hounded up and down the World,
Now every Villain, that is Wretch enough
To take the price of Bloud, dreams of my Throat.
Help and support me till I reach the Wood,
Then go and find thy wretched Brother out.
Asunder we may dodge our Fate, and lose her.
In some old hollow Tree or o'regrown Brake
I'd rest my weary Lims, till Danger pass me. [Goes into the Wood. Enter Souldiers again.

1. Sould.
A thousand Crowns? 'tis a Reward might buy
As many Lives, for they are cheap in Rome;
And 'tis too much for one.

2. Sould.
Let's set this Wood
A flaming, if you think he's here, and then
Quickly you'll see th'old Droan crawl humming out.

1. Sould.

Thou always lov'st to ride full speed to Mischief. There's no consideration in thee. Look you, when I cut a Throat, I love

-- 45 --

to doe it with as much Deliberation and Decency as a Barber cuts a Beard. I hate a slovenly Murther done hand over head: a man gets no credit by it.

3. Sould.

The man that spoke last spoke well. Therefore let us to yon adjacent Village, and sowce our selves in good Falernum....

[Ex. Souldiers.

Mar. sen.
O Villains! not a Slave of those
But has serv'd under me, has eat my Bread,
And felt my Bounty.... Drought! parching Drought!
Was ever Lion thus by Dogs emboss'd?
Oh! I could swallow Rivers: Earth yield me Water;
Or swallow Marius down where Springs first flow. Enter Marius junior and Granius.

Mar. jun.
My Father!

Mar. sen.
Oh my Sons!

Mar. jun.
Why thus forlorn? stretcht on the Earth?

Mar. sen.
Oh! get me some Refreshment, cooling Herbs,
And Water to allay my ravenous Thirst.
I would not trouble you if I had Strength:
But I'm so faint that all my Lims are useless.
Now have I not one Drachma to buy Food,
Must we then starve? no, sure the Birds will feed us.

Mar. jun.
There stands a House on yonder side o'th' Wood,
It seems the Mansion of some Man of note:
I'll go and turn a Beggar for my Father.

Mar. sen.
Oh my Soul's comfort! do. Indeed I want it.
I, who had once the plenty of the Earth,
Now want a Root and Water. Go, my Boy,
And see who'll give a Morsell to poor Marius.
Nay, I'll not starve: no, I will plunge in Riot,
Wallow in Plenty. Drink? I'll drink, I'll drink.
Give me that Goblet hither.... Here's a Health
To all the Knaves and Senators in Rome.

Mar jun.
Repose your self a while, till we return.

Mar. sen.
I will, but prithee let me rave a little.
Go, prithee go, and don't delay. I'll rest; [Ex. Mar. jun.
As thou shalt, Rome, if e're my Fortune raise me..... Enter Lavinia.
Another Murth'rer? this brings smiling Fate:
A deadly Snake cloath'd in a dainty Skin.

Lavin.
I've wander'd up and down these Woods and Meadows,
Till I have lost my way.....

-- 46 --

Against a tall, young, slender, well-grown Oak
Leaning, I found Lavinia in the Bark.
My Marius should not be far hence.

Mar. sen.
What art Thou,
That dar'st to name that wretched Creature Marius?

Lavin.
Do not be angry, Sir, what e're thou art;
I am a poor unhappy Woman, driven
By Fortune to pursue my banish'd Lord.

Mar. sen.
By thy dissembling Tone thou shouldst be Woman,
And Roman too.

Lavin.
Indeed I am.

Mar. sen.
A Roman?
If thou art so, be gone, lest Rage with Strength
Assist my Vengeance, and I rise and kill thee.

Lavin.
My Father, is it you?

Mar. sen.
Now thou art Woman;
For Lies are in thee. I? am I thy Father?
I ne'r was yet so curst; none of thy Sex
E're sprung from me. My Offspring all are Males,
The Nobler sort of Beasts entit'led Men.

Lavin.
I am your Daughter, if your Son's my Lord.
Have you ne'r heard Lavinia's name in Rome,
That wedded with the Son of Marius?

Mar. sen.
Hah!
Art thou that fond, that kind and doting thing,
That left her Father for a banisht Husband?
Come near—
And let me bless thee, though thy Name's my Foe.

Lavin.
Alas! my Father, you seem much opprest:
Your Lips are parcht, bloud-shot your Eyes and sunk.
Will you partake such Fruits as I have gather'd?
Taste, Sir, this Peach, and this Pomegranate; both are
Ripe and refreshing.

Mar. sen.
What? all this from Thee,
Thou Angel, whom the Gods have sent to aid me?
I don't deserve thy Bounty.

Lavin.
Here, Sir,'s more.
I found a Crystall Spring too in the Wood,
And took some Water; 'tis most soft and cool.

Mar. sen.
An Emperour's Feast! but I shall rob thee.

Lavin.
No, I've eat, and slak'd my Thirst. But where's my Lord,
My dearest Marius?

Mar. sen.
To th' neighbouring Village
He's gone, to beg his Father's Dinner, Daughter.

Lavin.
Will you then call me Daughter? will you own it?
I'm much o'repaid for all the Wrongs of Fortune.

-- 47 --

But surely Marius can't be brought to want.
I've Gold and Jewels too, and they'l buy Food. Enter Marius junior.

Mar. sen.
See here, my Marius, what the Gods have sent us.
See thy Lavinia.

Mar. jun.
Hah! [They run and embrace.

Mar. sen.
What? dumb at meeting?

Mar. jun.
Why weeps my Love?

Lavin.
I cannot speak, Tears so obstruct my Words,
And choak me with unutterable Joy.

Mar. jun.
Oh my Heart's Joy!

Lavin.
My Soul!

Mar. jun.
But hast thou left
Thy Father's House, the Pomp and State of Rome,
To follow desart Misery?

Lavin.
I come
To bear a part in every thing that's thine,
Be 't Happiness or Sorrow. In these Woods,
Whilst from pursuing Enemies you're safe,
I'll range about, and find the Fruits and Springs,
Gather cool Sedges, Daffadills and Lillies,
And softest Camomill to make us Beds,
Whereon my Love and I at night will sleep,
And dream of better Fortune. Enter Granius and Servant with Wine and Meat.

Mar. sen.
Yet more Plenty?
Sure Comus, the God of Feasting, haunts these Woods,
And means to entertain us as his Guests.

Servant.
I am sent hither, Marius, from my Lord,
Sextilius the Prætor, to relieve thee,
And warn thee that thou straight depart this place,
Else he the Senate's Edict must obey,
And treat thee as the Foe of Rome.

Mar. sen.
But did he,
Did he, Sextilius, bid thee say all this?
Was he too proud to come and see his Master,
That rais'd him out of nothing? Was he not
My menial Servant once, and wip'd these Shoes,
Ran by my Chariot-wheels, my Pleasures watcht,
And fed upon the Voidings of my Table?
Durst he affront me with a sordid Alms?
And send a saucy Message by a Slave?

-- 48 --

Hence with thy Scraps: back to thy Teeth I dash 'em.
Be gone whilst thou art safe. Hold, stay a little.

Serv.
What Answer would you have me carry back?

Mar. sen.
Go to Sextilius, tell him thou hast seen
Poor Caius Marius banish'd from his Country,
Sitting in Sorrow on the naked Earth,
Amidst an ample Fortune once his own,
Where now he cannot claim a Turf to sleep on. [Ex. Servant.
How am I fallen! Musick? sure, the Gods [Soft Musick.
Are mad, or have design'd to make me so. Enter Martha.
Well, what art Thou?

Marth.
Am I a Stranger to thee?
Martha's my name, the Syrian Prophetess,
That us'd to wait upon thee with good Fortune;
Till banish'd out of Rome for serving Thee.
I've ever since inhabited these Woods,
And search'd the deepest Arts of wise Foreknowledge.

Mar. sen.
I know thee now most well. When thou wert gone,
All my good Fortune left me. My lov'd Vulturs,
That us'd to hover o're my happy Head,
And promise Honour in the day of Battel,
Have since bin seen no more. Ev'n Birds of prey
Forsake unhappy Marius: Men of prey
Pursue him still. Hast thou no Hopes in store?

Marth.
A hundred Spirits wait upon my will,
To bring me Tidings, from th' Earth's farthest Corners,
Of all that happens out in States and Councils.
I tell thee therefore, Rome is once more thine.
The Consuls have had Blows, and Cinna's beaten,
Who with his Army comes to find thee out,
To lead him back with Terrour to that City.

Mar. sen.
Speak on.

Marth.
Nay, e're thou think'st it he will be with thee.
But let thy Sons and these fair Nymphs retire,
Whilst I relieve thy wearied Eyes with Sleep,
And chear thee in a Dream with promis'd Fate.

Mar. jun.
Come, my Lavinia, Granius, wee'll withdraw
To some cool Shade, and wonder at our Fortune. [Ex. Martha waves her Wand.... [A Dance.

Mar. sen.
O Rest, thou Stranger to my Senses, welcome.

-- 49 --

Enter Servant and a Ruffian.

Serv.
Ten Attick Talents shall be thy Reward,
Sextilius gives 'em thee. Dispatch him safely.

Ruff.
Fear not, he never wakes agen.

Mar. sen.
No more,
I'll hear no more. Metellus live? no, no;
He dies, he dies. So bear him to the Tiber,
And plunge him to the bottom. Hah Antonius!
Where are my Guards? dispatch that talking Knave,
That when he should be doing publick Service,
Consumes his time in Speeches to the Rabble,
And sows Sedition in a City. Down,
Down with Pompeius too, that call'd me Traitour.
Hah! art thou there? welcome once more, old Marius,
To Rome's Tribunall.

Ruff.
Now's the time.

Mar. sen.
Stand off.
Secure that Gaul.... Dar'st thou kill Caius Marius? [Wakes.
Hah! speak? what art thou?

Ruff.
By Sextilius hired
I hither came to take your Life. Spare mine,
And I'll for ever serve you at your feet.

Mar. sen.
What barb'rous Slaves are these, that envy me
The open Air; set Prices on my Head,
As they would doe on Wolves that slay their Flock! Enter Sulpitius. [Trumpets.
Trumpets! Sulpitius, where hast thou bin wand'ring
Since the late Storm that drove us from each other?

Sulpit.
Why, doing Mischief up and down the City,
Picking up discontented Fools, belying
The Senatours and Government, destroying
Faith amongst honest men, and praising Knaves.

Mar. sen.
Oh, but where's Cinna?

Sulpit.
Ready to salute you..... Enter Cinna attended with Lictors and Guards.

Cinn.
Romans, once more behold your Consul; see,
Is that a Fortune fit for Caius Marius?
Advance your Axes and your Rods before him,
And give him all the Customs of his Honour.

Mar. sen.
Away: such Pomp becomes not wretched Marius.

-- 50 --

Here let me pay Obedience to my Consul.
Lead me, great Cinna, where thy Foes have wrong'd thee,
And see how thy old Souldier will obey.

Cinn.
O Marius, be our Hearts united ever,
To carry Desolation into Rome,
And waste that Den of Monsters to the Earth.

Mar. sen.
Shall we?

Cinn.
We'll do't. That godly Soothsaying Fool,
That sacrificing Dolt, that Sot Octavius,
When we were chosen Consuls in the Forum,
Disown'd me for his Collegue; said, the Gods
Had told him I design'd Tyrannick pow'r;
Provok'd the Citizens, who took up Arms,
And drove me forth the Gates.

Mar. sen.
Excellent Mischief!
What's to be done?

Cinn.
No sooner was I gone,
But a large part of that great City follow'd me.
There's not an honest Spirit left in Rome,
That does not own my Cause, and wish for Marius.

Mar. sen.
Bring me my Horse, my Armour, and the Laurel
With which, when I'd o'recome three barb'rous Nations,
I enter'd crown'd with Triumph into Rome.
I go to free her now from greater Mischiefs. Enter Marius junior and Granius.
O my young Warriour!

Mar. jun.
Curst be the Light,
And ever curst be all these Regions round us.
Lavinia's lost, born back with force to Rome,
By Ruffians headed by her Father's Kinsmen;
And like a Coward too I live, yet saw it. [Exit.

Mar. sen.
Oh Marius! Marius! let not 'Plaints come from thee,
Nor cloud the Joy that's breaking on thy Father.
If she be back in Rome, Lavinia's thine.
To morrow's Dawn restores her to thy Arms.
For that fair Mistriss Fortune, which has cost
So dear, for which such Hardships I have past,
Is coy no more, but crowns my Hopes at last.
I long t' embrace her, any, 'tis Death to stay.
I'm mad as promis'd Bridegrooms, born away
With thoughts of nothing but the joyfull day. [Exeunt.

-- 51 --

Scene 3 SCENE Metellus House. Enter Metellus, Lavinia, Priest of Hymen.

Lavin.
Nay, you have catcht me; you may kill me too:
But with my Cries I'll rend the Echoing Heav'ns,
Till all the Gods are Witness how you use me.

Metell.
What? like a Vagrant fly thy Father's House?
And follow fulsomely an exil'd Slave,
Disdain'd by all the World? But abject Thou,
Resolve to go, or bound be sent to Sylla,
With as much Scorn as thou hast done me Shame.

Lavin.
Do, bind me, kill me, rack these Lims: I'll bear it.
But, Sir, consider still I am your Daughter;
And one hour's Converse with this Holy man
May teach me to repent, and shew Obedience.

Metell.
Think not t' evade me by protracting time:
For if thou dost not, may the Gods forsake me,
As I will Thee, if thou escape my Fury.... [Ex. Metell.

Lavin.
Oh! bid me leap (rather then go to Sylla)
From off the Battlements of any Tow'r,
Or walk in Thievish ways, or bid me lurk
Where Serpents are: chain me with roaring Bears;
Or hide me nightly in a Charnell-house
O're-cover'd quite with Dead mens rattling Bones,
With reeky Shanks, and yellow chapless Sculls:
Or bid me go into a new-made Grave,
And hide me with a Dead man in his Shrowd:
Things that to hear but told have made me tremble:
And I'll go through it without fear or doubting,
To keep my Vows unspotted to my Love.—

Priest.
Take here this Vial then, and in this moment
Drink it, when straight through all thy Veins shall run
A cold and drowzy Humour more then Sleep:
And in Death's borrow'd likeness shalt thou lie
Two Summer-days, then wake as from a Slumber.
Till Marius by my Letters know what's past,
And come by stealth to Rome.—

Lavin.
Give me; Oh! give me: tell me not of Fears.

Priest.
Farewell: be bold and prosp'rous. [Exit.

Lavin.
Oh! farewell.....
Heav'n knows if ever we shall meet agen.
I have a faint cold Fear thrills through my Veins.

-- 52 --

That almost freezes up the heat of Life.
I'll call him back agen to comfort me.
Stay, Holy man. But what should he doe here?
My dismall Scene 'tis fit I act alone.
What if this Mixture do not work at all?
Shall I to morrow then be sent to Sylla?
No, no .... this shall forbid it; ly thou there..... Lays down the Dagger.
Or how, if, when I'm laid into the Tomb,
I wake before the time that Marius come
To my Relief? There, there's a fearfull Point.
Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault,
Where for these many hundred years the Bones
Of all my bury'd Ancestours are packt?
Where, as they say, Ghosts at some hours resort,
With Mandrakes shreeks torn from the Earth's dark Womb,
That living Mortals hearing them run mad?
Or if I wake, shall I not be distracted,
Inviron'd round with all these hideous Fears,
And madly play with my Fore-fathers Joints;
Then in this Rage with some great Kinsman's Bones,
As with a Club, dash out my desp'rate Brains?
What? Sylla? get thee gone, thou meager Lover:
My Sense abhors thee. Don't disturb my Draught;
'Tis to my Lord. [Drinks.] Oh Marius! Marius! Marius! [Exit. The end of the Fourth ACT.

-- 53 --

ACT V. Scene 1 SCENE Cinna's Camp before the Walls of Rome. [Trumpets sound a General. Enter Cinna, Marius senior, and Sulpitius, Granius, two Embassadors, Guards.

Cinn.
Embassadours from Rome? How many Slaves,
Traitours, and Tyrants, Villains was I call'd
But yesterday? yet now their Consul Cinna.
Oh! what an excellent Master is an Army,
To teach Rebellious Cities Manners! Say,
My Friend and Collegue Marius, shall we hear 'em?

Mar. sen.
Whom?

Cinn.
The Embassadours.

Mar. sen.
From whence?

Cinn.
From Rome.

Mar. sen.
My loving Countrymen? they must be heard,
Or Sylla will be angry.....

Cinn.
In what state
And Pageantry the solid Lumps move on?
And though they come to beg, will be attended
With their ill-order'd Pomp and awkward Pride.
Who are ye? and from whence?

1. Emb.
From wretched Rome.
To thee, most mighty Cinna, and to thee,
Most dread Lord Marius, in her name we bow.

Cinn.
What's your Demand?

1. Emb.
Hear but our humble Prayers,
And all Demands be made by God-like Cinna.
Whither, oh! whither will your Rage pursue us?
Must all the Fortunes and the Lives of Rome
Suffer for one Miscarriage of her Masters?
Your sorrowfull afflicted Mother Rome,
In whose kind Bosome you were nurst and bred,
Stretches her trembling Arms t' implore your Pity.
Fold up your dreadfull Ensigns, and lay by

-- 54 --

Your warlike Terrours, that affright her Matrons,
And come to her e're Sorrows quite o'rewhelm her.
But come like Sons that bring their Parents Joy:
Enter her Gates with Dove-like Peace before ye,
And let no bloudy Slaughter stain her Streets.

Cinn.
Thus 'tis you think to heal up smarting Honour,
By pouring flatt'ring Balm into the Wound,
Which for a time may make it whole and fair,
Till the false Medicine be at last discover'd,
And then it ranckles to a Sore again.
Take this my Answer: I will enter Rome;
But for my Force, I'll keep it still my own,
Nor part with Pow'r to give it to my Foes.

Mar. sen.
Sulpitius, see, what abject Slaves are these?
Such base Deformities a long Robe hides.

Sulpit.
I cannot but laugh to think on't.

Mar. sen.
What?

Sulpit.

How these politick Noddles, that look so grave upon the matter in the Senate-house, will laugh and grin at one another when they are set a sunning upon the Capitol.

2. Emb.
May we return with joy into our City,
Proclaiming Peace agreed with Heav'n and You?

Cinn.
Go, tell 'em we expect due Homage paid,
Of every Senatour expect Acknowledgment,
Mighty Rewards, and Offices of Honour.

1. Emb.
But on that Brow there still appears a Cloud,
That never rose without a following Storm.

Mar. sen.
Alas! for me, a simple Banisht man,
Driv'n from my Country by the right of Law,
And justly punisht as my Ills deserv'd,
Think not of me: whate're are his Resolves,
I shall obey.

Both Emb.
May all the Gods reward you.... [Ex. Embass. and Attendants.

Cinn.
Now, Marius.

Mar. sen.
Now, my Cinna.

Cinn.
Are not we
True born of Rome, true Sons of such a Mother?
How I adore thy Temper?

Mar. sen.
Those two Knaves,
Those whining, fawning, humble, pliant Villains,
Would cut thy Throat or mine for half a Drachma.

Cinn.
Let's not delay a moment.

Mar. sen.
Oh! let's fly,
Enter this cursed City; nay, with Smiles too,
But false as the adulterate Promises

-- 55 --

Of Favourites in pow'r, when poor men court 'em.

Cinn.
They always hated me, because a Souldier.

Mar. sen.
Base Natures ever grudge at things above 'em,
And hate a Pow'r they are too much oblig'd to.
When Fears are on them, then their kindest Wishes
And best Rewards attend the gallant Warriour:
But Dangers vanisht, infamous Neglect,
Ill Usage and Reproach are all his portion;
Or at the best he's wedded to hard Wants,
Robb'd of that little Hire he toil'd and bled for.

Sulpit.
I'd rather turn a bold true-hearted Rogue,
Live upon Prey, and hang for't with my Fellows,
Then, when my Honour and my Country's Cause
Call'd me to Dangers, be so basely branded.

Mar. sen.
E're we this City enter then, let's swear
Not to destroy one honest Roman living.

Sulpit.
Nor one chast Matron.

Cinn.
Nor a faithfull Friend,
Nor true-born Heir, nor Senatour that's wise.

Mar. sen.
But Knaves and Villains, Whores and base-born Brats,
And th' endless swarms of Fools grown up in years,
Be Slaughter's Game, till we dispeople Rome.

Cinn.
Draw out our Guards, and let the Trumpets sound,

Mar. sen.
Till all things tell 'em Marius is at hand.
O Sylla, if at Capua thou shalt hear
How Fortune deals with me, fall on thy Knees,
And make the Gods thy Friends to keep thee from me.
Sulpitius, as along the Streets we move
With solemn pace and meditating Mischiefs,
Whom-e're I smile on let thy Sword go through.
Oh! can the Matrons and the Virgins Cries,
The Screams of dying Infants, and the Groans
Of murther'd men be Musick to appease me?
Sure Death's not far from such a desp'rate Cure.
Be't with me rather (Gods,) as Storms let loose,
That rive the Trunks of tallest Cedars down,
And tear from Tops the loaded pregnant Vine,
And kill the tender Flow'rs but yet half blown.
For having no more Fury left in store,
Heav'ns face grows clear, the Storm is heard no more,
And Nature smiles as gaily as before..... [Exeunt.

-- 56 --

Scene 2 SCENE Metellus House. Enter Metellus.

Metell.
A peace with Marius? O most base Submission!
That over-ruling Fears should weigh up Reason!
Was not the City ours, and Sylla too
At Capua, almost in a Trumpet's call?
And to submit! Could I but once have fought for't,
I might have met this Marius in Arms,
And bin reveng'd for all the Mischiefs done me.
Nurse. Enter Nurse.

Nurse.
Here, an't shall please you.

Metell.
Go wake Lavinia. Tell her, she must hence
For Capua this Morning: for the Truce
Favours her Journy, and secures her Passage. [Exit. Scene draws, and discovers Lavinia on a Couch.

Nurse.
Wake her? Poor Titmouse! it will be as peevish,
I'll warrant you, and rub its nye's, and so frown now.
Well: Mistriss! why, Lavinia! fast, I warrant her.
Why, Lamb! why, Lady! Fy, you Slugg-a-bed.
What, not a word? You take your penny worth now,
Sleep for a week: for the next Night (my word for't)
Sylla takes care that you shall rest but little.
Gods forgive me.....
Marry and Amen. How sound is she asleep?
I must needs wake her. Madam! Madam! Madam!
Now should your Lover find you in this posture,
He'd fright you up i'faith, What? won't it doe?
Drest too? and in your Cloaths? and down agen?
Nay, I must wake you. Lady! Lady! Lady!
Alas! alas! help, help, my Lady's dead.
Ah! welladay that ever I was born!
Some Aqua vitæ. Hoa! my Lord.... my Lady.... Enter Metellus.

Metell.
Lavinia dead?

Nurse.
Your onely Daughter's dead:

-- 57 --

As dead as a Herring, Stock-fish, or Door-nail.

Metell.
Stiffe, cold, and pale. Where are thy Beauties now?
Thy Blushes that have warm'd so many Hearts?
All Hearts that ever felt her conqu'ring Beauty,
Sigh till ye break: and all ye Eyes that languisht
In my Lavinia's Brightness, weep with me,
Till Grief grow generall, and the World's in Tears.

Nurse.
Oh Day! oh Day! oh Day! oh hatefull Day!
Never was seen so black a day as this.
Oh Day! oh wofull Day! oh Day like Night!

Metell.
No more: Thus in her Bridall Ornaments
Drest as she is she shall be born to Buriall,
I'th' Sepulchre where our Forefathers rest.
Be't done, whilst all things we ordain'd for Joy
Turn from their Office, and assist in Sadness. [Exit.

Nurse.

It shall be done and done and overdone, as we are undone. And I will sigh, and cry till I am swell'd as big as a Pumkin. Nay, my poor Baby, I'll take care thou shalt not dy for nothing: for I will wash thee with my Tears, perfume thee with my Sighs, and stick a Flower in every part about thee....

[Ex. Nurse. SCENE changes to the Forum, where is placed the Consul's Tribunall. Enter two Citizens.

1. Cit.
Whither, oh! whither shall we fly for Safety?
Already reeking Murther's in our Streets,
Matrons with Infants in their Arms are butcher'd,
And Rome appears one noisome House of slaughter.

2. Cit.
Hear us, ye Gods, and pity our Calamities.
Stop, stop the Fury of this cruel Tyrant;
Or send your Thunder forth to strike us dead,
E're our own Slaves are Masters of our Throats.

1. Cit.
Ruine draws near us: Oh my Friend! let's fly
To th' Altars of our Gods, and by the hands
Of one another dy as Romans ought. [Exeunt. Enter Ancharius the Senatour and his Grandson.

Child.
Hide me, my Grandsire: the ugly men are coming
That kill'd my Mother and my Sister Thesbie.

-- 58 --

Will they kill you and me too?

Anch.
Oh my Child!
I cannot hide thee, nor know what to doe.
Decrepit Age benums my weary Lims:
I can't resist, nor fly....

Child.
Then here we'll sit;
Perhaps they'll not come yet: or if they do,
I'll fall upon my Knees and beg your Life.
I am a very little harmless Boy;
And when I cry, and talk, and hang about 'em,
They'll pity sure my Tears, and grant me all. Enter several Old men in black with Cypress Wreaths, leading Virgins in white with Myrtle, who kneel before the Tribunal. Then enters Marius senior as Consul, Lictors, Sulpitius, and Guards.

Mar. sen.
I thank ye, Gods, ye have restor'd me now. [Mounts the Tribunal.
What Pageantry is this, Sulpitius, here?
Remove these Slaves, and bear 'em to their Fates.

1. Oldman.
We come not for our selves, but in the name
Of Rome, to offer up our Lives for all.
Pity a wretched State, thou raging God,
And let loose all thy dreadfull Fury here.

Mar. sen.
I know ye all, great Senatours; ye are
The Heads and Patrons of Rebellious Rome.
Ye can be humble when Affliction galls ye:
And with that Cheat at any time ye think
To charm a generous Mind, though ye have wrong'd it.
False are your Safeties when indulg'd by Pow'r:
For soon ye fatten and grow able Traitours.
False are your Fears, and your Afflictions falser:
For they cheat you, and make you hope for Mercy,
Which you shall never gain at Marius's hands.
Who trusts your Penitence is more then Fool.
Rebellion will renew: ye can't be honest.
Y' are never pleas'd but with the Knaves that cheat you,
And work your Follies to their private ends.
For your Religion, like your Cloaths you wear it,
To change and turn just as the Fashion alters.
And think you by this solemn piece of Fooling
To hush my Rage, and melt me into Pity?
Advance, Sulpitius: old Ancharius there,
Who was so violent for my Destruction,
That his Beard brussled as his Face distorted;

-- 59 --

Away with him. Dispatch these Triflers too.
But spare the Virgins, 'cause mine Eyes have seen 'em:
Or keep 'em for my Warriours to rejoice in.

Anch.
Thou who wert born to be the Plague of Rome,
What wouldst thou doe with me?

Mar. sen.
Dispose thee hence
Amongst the other Offall, for the jaws
Of hungry Death, till Rome be purg'd of Villains.
Thou dy'st for wronging Marius.—

Child.
Oh my Lord!
(For you must be a Lord, you are so angry.)
For my sake spare his Life. I have no Friend
But him to guard my tender years from Wrongs.
When he is dead, what will become of me,
A poor and helpless Orphan, naked left
To all the Ills of the wide faithless world?

Mar. sen.
Take hence this Brat too; mount it on a Spear,
And let is sprawl to make the Grandsire sport.

Child.
Oh cruel man! I'll hang upon your Knees,
And with my little dying Hands implore you.
I may be fit to doe you some small pleasures.
I'll find a thousand tender ways to please you;
Smile when you rage, and stroak you into Mildness;
Play with your manly Neck, and call you Father:
For mine (alas!) the Gods have taken from me.

Mar. sen.
Young Crocodile! Thus from their Mothers Breasts
Are they instructed, bred and taught in Rome.
For that old Paralitick Slave, dispatch him:
Let me not know he breaths another moment.
But spare this, 'cause 't has learnt its Lesson well,
And I've a Softness in my heart pleads for him. Enter Messenger.
Well now.

Mess.
Metellus.

Mar. sen.
Hah! Metellus? what?

Mess.
Is found.

Mar. sen.
Speak, where?

Mess.
In an old Suburb Cottage,
Upbraiding Heav'n, and cursing at your Fortune.

Mar. sen.
Haste, let him be preserv'd for my own Fury.
Clap, clap your hands for joy, ye Friends of Marius.
The thousand Talents for the news I'll give thee:
The Core and Bottom of my Torment's found;
And in a moment I shall be at ease.

-- 60 --

Rome's Walls no more shall be besmear'd with Bloud,
But Peace and Gladness flourish in her Streets.
Lets go. Metellus? we have found Metellus.
Let every Tongue proclaim aloud Metellus;
Till I have dasht him on the Rock of Fate.
Then be his Name forgot, and heard no more. [Exeunt. SCENE a Church-yard. Enter Marius junior.

Mar. jun.
As I have wander'd musing to and fro,
Still am I brought to this unlucky place,
As I had business with the horrid Dead:
Though could I trust the flattery of Sleep,
My Dreams presage some joyfull news at hand.
My Bosome's Lord fits lightly on his Throne,
And all this day an unaccustom'd Spirit
Lifts me above the ground with chearfull thoughts.
I dream'd Lavinia came and found me dead,
And breath'd such Life with Kisses on my Lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an Emperour. Enter Catulus.

Catul.
My Lord already here?

Mar. jun.
My trusty Catulus,
What News from my Lavinia? speak, and bless me.

Catul.
She's very well....

Mar. jun.
Then nothing can be ill.
Something thou seem'st to know that's terrible.
Out with it boldly, man, What canst thou say
Of my Lavinia?

Catul.
But one sad word, She's dead.
Here in her Kindreds Vault I've seen her laid,
And have bin searching you to tell the News.

Mar. jun.
Dead? is it so? then I deny you, Stars.
Go, hasten quickly, get me Ink and Paper.
'Tis done: I'll hence to night.
Hast thou no Letters to me from the Priest?

Catul.
No, my good Lord.

Mar. jun.
No matter, get thee gone..... [Ex. Catulus.
Lavinia! yet I'll ly with thee to night;
But, for the means. Oh Mischief! thou art swift

-- 61 --

To catch the straggling Thoughts of Desp'rate men.
I do remember an Apothecary,
That dwelt about this Rendezvous of Death:
Meager and very rufull were his Looks;
Sharp Misery had worn him to the Bones;
And in his needy Shop a Tortoise hung,
An Allegator stufft, and other Skins
Of ill-shap'd Fishes: and about his Shelves
A beggarly account of empty Boxes,
Green earthen Pots, Bladders, and musty Seeds,
Remnants of Packthread, and old Cakes of Roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a Show.
Oh for a Poison now! his Need will sell it,
Though it be present Death by Roman Law.
As I remember this should be the House.
His Shop is shut: with Beggars all are Holydays.
Holla! Apothecary; hoa! Enter Apothecary.

Apoth.
Who's there?

Mar. jun.
Come hither, man.
I see thou'rt very poor;
Thou mayst doe any thing: here's fifty Drachma's,
Get me a Draught of that will soonest free
A Wretch from all his Cares: thou understand'st me.

Apoth.
Such mortal Drugs I have; but Roman Law
Speaks Death to any he that utters 'em.

Mar. jun.
Art thou so base and full of Wretchedness,
Yet fear'st to dy? Famine is in thy Cheeks,
Need and Oppression starveth in thy Eyes,
Contempt and Beggary hang on thy Back;
The World is not thy Friend, nor the World's Law;
The World affords no Law to make thee rich:
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

Apoth.
My Poverty, but not my Will consents.... [Goes in, fetches a Vial of Poison.
Take this and rink it off, the Work is done.

Mar. jun.
There is thy Gold, worse Poison to mens Souls,
Doing more Murthers in this loathsome world
Then these poor Compounds thou'rt forbid to sell.
I sell thee Poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell... buy Food.... and get thy self in flesh.
Now for the Monument of the Metelli.... [Exit. Scene draws off, and shews the Temple and Monument.

-- 62 --

Re-enters.
It should be here: the door is open too.
Th' insatiate mouth of Fate gapes wide for more. Enter Priest, and Boy with a Mattock and Iron Crow.

Priest.
Give me the Mattock and the wrenching Iron:
Now take this Letter, with what haste thou canst
Find out young Marius, and deliver it. [Ex. Boy.
Now must I to the Monument alone.
What Wretch is he that's entring into th' Tomb?
Some Villain come to rob and spoil the Dead.
Whoe're thou art, stop thy unhallowed purpose.

Mar. jun.
Whoe're thou art, I warn thee to be gone,
And do not interrupt my horrid purpose.
For else, by Heav'n, I'll tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry Chruch-yard with thy Lims.
My Mind and its Intents are savage wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Then empty Tigers or the roaring Sea.

Priest.
Then as a sacrilegious Slave I charge thee,
Obey and go with me, or thou must dy.

Mar. jun.
I know I must, and therefore I came hither.
Good Reverence, do not tempt a desp'rate man.
By Heav'n, I love thee better then my self:
For I against my self come hither arm'd.
Stay not, be gone.... Live, and hereafter I say,
A Mad-man's Mercy gave thee honest Counsell.

Priest.
I do defy thy Mercy and thy Counsell,
And here will seize thee as a Thief and Robber.

Mar. jun.
Wilt thou provoke me? then here, take thy Wages. [Kills him.

Priest.
I'm kill'd. Oh Marius! now too late I know thee.
Thou'st slain the onely man could doe thee good.
Lavinia.... oh!... [Dies.

Mar. jun.
Let me peruse this Face.
It is the honest Priest that joyn'd our hands,
In a Disguize conceal'd. Give me thy Hand,
Since in ill Fate's black Roll with me thou 'rt writ,
I'll bury thee in a triumphant Grave.
Thou detestable Maw, thou Womb of Death,
Gorg'd with the dearest Morsell of the Earth,
Thus will I force thy rotten Jaws to open,... Pulls down the side of the Tomb.
And spite of thee yet cram thee with more Food.

-- 63 --

Oh gorgeous Palace! oh my Love! my Wife!
Death has had yet no pow'r upon thy Beauty;
That is not conquer'd. Beauty's Ensign yet
Is Crimson in thy Lips and in thy Cheeks;
And the pale Flag is not advanc'd yet there.
Why art thou still so fair? shall I believe
That the lean Monster Death is amorous,
And keeps thee here in Darkness for his Paramour?
For fear of that, I'll stay with thee for ever.
Come, bitter Conduct, thou unsavoury Guide:
Here's to my Love..... [Drinks the Poison.
And now Eyes look your last.
Arms take your last Embrace, whilst on these Lips
I fix the Seal of an eternall Contract....
She breaths and stirs..... [Lavinia wakes.

Lavin. in the Tomb.
Where am I? bless me, Heav'n!
'Tis very cold; and yet here's something warm.....

Mar. jun.
She lives, and we shall both be made immortall.
Speak, my Lavinia, speak some heav'nly news,
And tell me how the Gods design to treat us.

Lavin.
Oh! I have slept a long Ten thousand years,
What have they done with me? I'll not be us'd thus;
I'll not wed Sylla. Marius is my Husband.
Is he not, Sir? Methinks you're very like him.
Be good as he is, and protect me.

Mar. jun.
Hah!
Wilt thou not own me? am I then but like him?
Much, much indeed I'm chang'd from what I was;
And ne'r shall be my self, if thou art lost.

Lavin.
The Gods have heard my Vows; it is my Marius.
Once more they have restor'd him to my Eyes.
Hadst thou not come, sure I had slept for ever.
But there's a soveraign Charm in thy Embraces,
That might doe Wonders, and revive the Dead.

Mar. jun.
Ill Fate no more, Lavinia, now shall part us,
Nor cruel Parents, nor oppressing Laws.
Did not Heav'n's Pow'rs all wonder at our Loves?
And when thou toldst the tale of thy Disasters,
Was there not Sadness and a Gloom amongst em
I know there was: and they in pity sent thee,
Thus to redeem me from this vale of Torments,
And bear me with thee to those Hills of Joys.
This World's gross air grows burthensome already.
I'm all a God: such heav'nly Joys transport me,
That mortal Sense grows sick and faints with lasting. [Dies.

Lavin.
Oh! to recount my Happiness to thee,

-- 64 --

To open all the Treasure of my Soul,
And shew thee how 'tis fill'd, would waste more time
Then so impatient Love as mine can spare.
He's gone; he's dead; breathless: alas! my Marius.
A Vial too: here, here has bin his Bane.
Oh Churl! drink all? not leave one friendly Drop
For poor Lavinia? Yet I'll drain thy Lips.
Perhaps some welcom Poison may hang there,
To help me to o'retake thee on thy Journy.
Clammy and damp as Earth. Hah! stains of Bloud?
And a man murther'd? 'Tis th'unhappy Flamen.
Who fix their Joys on any thing that's Mortall,
Let 'em behold my Portion, and despair.
What shall I doe? how will the Gods dispose me?
Oh! I could rend these Walls with Lamentation,
Tear up the Dead from their corrupted Graves,
And dawb the face of Earth with her own Bowels. Enter Marius senior, and Guards driving in Metellus.

Mar. sen.
Pursue the Slave; let not his Gods protect him.

Lavin.
More Mischiefs? hah! my Father?

Metell.
Oh! I am slain. [Falls down and dies.

Lavin.
And murther'd too. When will my Woes have end?
Come, cruel Tyrant.

Mar. sen.
Sure I have known that Face.

Lavin.
And canst thou think of any one good Turn
That I have done thee, and not kill me for't?

Mar. sen.
Art thou not call'd Lavinia?

Lavin.
Once I was:
But by my Woes may now be better known.

Mar. sen.
I cannot see thy Face.....

Lavin.
You must, and hear me.
By this, you must: nay, I will hold you fast.... [Seizes his Sword.

Mar. sen.
What wouldst thou say? where's all my Rage gone now?

Lavin.
I am Lavinia, born of Noble race.
My blooming Beauty conquer'd many Hearts,
But prov'd the greatest Torment of my own:
Though my Vows prosper'd, and my Love was answer'd
By Marius, the noblest, goodliest Youth
That Man e're envy'd at, or Virgin sigh'd for.
He was the Son of an unhappy Parent,
And banish'd with him when our Joys were young;
Scarce a night old.

Mar. sen.
I do remember't well,
And thou art She, that Wonder of thy kind,

-- 65 --

That couldst be true to exil'd Misery,
And to and fro through barren Desarts range,
To find th'unhappy Wretch thy Soul was fond of.

Lavin.
Do you remember't well?

Mar. sen.
In every point.

Lavin.
You then were gentle, took me in your Arms,
Embrac'd me, blest me, us'd me like a Father.
And sure I was not thankless for the Bounty.

Mar. sen.
No; thou wert next the Gods my onely Comfort.
When I lay fainting on the dry parcht Earth,
Beneath the scorching heat of burning Noon,
Hungry and dry, no Food nor Friend to chear me:
Then Thou, as by the Gods some Angel sent,
Cam'st by, and in Compassion didst relieve me.

Lavin.
Did I all this?

Mar. sen.
Thou didst, thou sav'dst my Life.
Else I had sunk beneath the weight of Want,
And bin a Prey to my remorseless Foes.

Lavin.
And see how well I am at last rewarded.
All could not balance for the short-term'd life
Of one Old man: You have my Father butcher'd,
The onely Comfort I had left on Earth.
The Gods have taken too my Husband from me.
See where he lies, your and my onely Joy.
This Sword yet reeking with my Father's Gore,
Plunge it into my Breast: plunge, plunge it thus.
And now let Rage, Distraction and Despair
Seize all Mankind, till they grow mad as I am. [Stabs her self with his Sword.

Mar. sen.
Nay, now thou hast outdone me much in Cruelty.
Be Nature's Light extinguisht; let the Sun
Withdraw his Beams, and put the world in Darkness,
Whilst here I howl away my Life in Sorrows.
Oh! let me bury Me and all my Sins
Here with this good Old man. Thus let me kiss
Thy pale sunk Cheeks, embalm thee with my Tears.
My Son, how cam'st thou by this wretched End?
We might have all bin Friends, and in one House
Enjoy'd the Blessings of eternal Peace.
But oh! my cruel Nature has undone me. Enter Messenger.

Mess.
My Lord, I bring you most disastrous News.
Sylla's return'd: his Army's on their march
From Capua, and to morrow will reach Rome.

-- 66 --

At which the Rabble are in new Rebellion,
And your Sulpitius mortally is wounded. Enter Sulpitius (led in by two of the Guards) and Granius.

Mar. sen.
Oh! then I'm ruin'd from this very moment.
Has my good Genius left me? Hope forsakes me.
The Name of Sylla's banefull to my Fortune.
Be warn'd by me, ye Great ones, how y' embroil
Your Country's Peace, and dip your Hands in Slaughter.
Ambition is a Lust that's never quencht,
Grows more inflam'd and madder by Enjoyment.
Bear me away, and lay me on my Bed,
A hopelesse Vessel bound for the dark Land
Of loathsome Death, and loaded deep with Sorrows. [He is led off.

Sulpit.
A Curse on all Repentance! how I hate it!
I'd rather hear a Dog howl then a Man whine.

Gran.
You're wounded, Sir: I hope it is not much.

Sulpit.

No; 'tis not so deep as a Well, nor so wide as a Church-door. But 'tis enough; 'twill serve; I am pepper'd I warrant, I warrant for this world. A Pox on all Mad-men hereafter. If I get a Monument, let this be my Epitaph:

Sulpitius lies here, that troublesome Slave,
That sent many honester men to the Grave,
And dy'd like a Fool when h' had liv'd like a Knave. [Ex. omnes. FINIS.

-- --

EPILOGUE Spoke by Mrs. Barry, who acted Lavinia.
A mischief on't! though I'm agen alive,
May I believe this Play of ours shall thrive?
This Drumming, Trumpetting, and Fighting Play?
Why, what a Devil will the People say?
The Nation that's without, and hears the Din,
Will swear w' are raising Volunteers agen.
For know, our Poet, when this Play was made,
Had nought but Drums and Trumpets in his head.
H' had banish'd Poetry and all her Charms,
And needs the Fool would be a Man at Arms.
No Prentice e're grown weary of Indentures
Had such a longing mind to seek Adventures.
Nay, sure at last th'Infection generall grew;
For t'other day I was a Captain too:
Neither for Flanders nor for France to roam,
But, just as you were all, to stay at home.
And now for you who here come wrapt in Cloaks,
Only for love of Underhill and Nurse Nokes;
Our Poet says, one day to a Play ye come,
Which serves ye half a year for Wit at home.
But which amongst you is there to be found,
Will take his third day's Pawn for Fifty pound?
Or, now is he Cashier'd, will fairly venture
To give him ready Money for's Debenture?
Therefore when he receiv'd that Fatall Doom,
This Play came forth, in hopes his Friends would come
To help a poor Disbanded Souldier home.

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Thomas Otway [1680], The history and fall of Caius Marius. A tragedy. As it is Acted at the Duke's Theatre. By Thomas Otway (Printed for Tho. Flesher [etc.], London) [word count] [S33600].

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