Frolic, brave soldiers, we must foot it now: Lucretius, you shall bide the brunt with me.
Pompey, farewell, and farewell, Lepidus.
Mark Anthony, I leave thee to thy books; Study for Rome and Sylla's royalty.
But, by my sword, I wrong this greybeard's head; Go, sirrah, place it on the capitol: A just promotion fit for Sylla's foe.
Lordings, farewell: come, soldiers, let us go.
[_Exit_.
POMPEY. Sylla, farewell, and happy be thy chance, Whose war both Rome and Romans must advance.
[_Exeunt Senators_.
_Enter the Magistrates of Minturnum with_ MARIUS _very melancholy_: LUCIUS FAVORINUS, PAUSANIUS, _with some attendants_.
PAUSANIUS. My lord, the course of your unstayed fate, Made weak through that your late unhappy fight, Withdraws our wills that fain would work your weal: For long experience and the change of times, The innocent suppressions of the just, In leaning to forsaken men's relief, Doth make us fear, lest our unhappy town Should perish through the angry Roman's sword.
MARIUS. Lords of Minturnum, when I shap'd my course, To fly the danger of pursuing death, I left my friends, and all alone attain'd, In hope of succours, to this little town, Relying on your courtesies and truth.
What foolish fear doth then amaze you thus?
FAVORINUS. O Marius, thou thyself, thy son, thy friends, Are banished, and exiles out of Rome, Proclaim'd for traitors, reft of your estates, Adjudg'd to death with certain warrantise: Should then so small a town, my lord, as this Hazard their fortunes to supply your wants?
MARIUS. Why, citizens, and what is Marius?
I tell you, not so base as to despair, Yea, able to withstand ingratitudes.
Tell me of foolish laws, decreed at Rome To please the angry humours of my foe!
Believe me, lords, I know and am assur'd, That magnanimity can never fear, And fortitude so conquer silly fate, As Sylla, when he hopes to have my head, May hap ere long on sudden lose his own.
PAUSANIUS. A hope beseeming Marius; but, I fear, Too strange to have a short and good event.
MARIUS. Why, Sir Pausanius, have you not beheld Campania plains fulfill'd with greater foes, Than is that wanton milk-sop, nature's scorn.
Base-minded men to live in perfect hope, Whose thoughts are shut within your cottage eaves, Refuse not Marius, that must favour you: For these are parts of unadvised men, With present fear to lose a perfect friend, That can, will, may control, command, subdue, That braving boy, that thus bewitcheth you.
FAVORINUS. How gladly would we succour you, my lord, But that we fear--
MARIUS. What? the moonshine in the water!
Thou wretched stepdame of my fickle state, Are these the guerdons of the greatest minds?
To make them hope and yet betray their hap, To make them climb to overthrow them straight?
Accurs'd thy wreak[116], thy wrath, thy bale, thy weal, That mak'st me sigh the sorrows that I feel!
Untrodden paths my feet shall rather trace, Than wrest my succours from inconstant hands: Rebounding rocks shall rather ring my ruth, Than these Campanian piles, where terrors bide: And nature, that hath lift my throne so high, Shall witness Marius' triumphs, if he die.
But she, that gave the lictor's rod and axe To wait my six times consulship in Rome, Will not pursue where erst she flattered so.
Minturnum then, farewell, for I must go; But think for to repent you of your no.
PAUSANIUS. Nay stay, my lord, and deign in private here To wait a message of more better worth: Your age and travels must have some relief; And be not wrath, for greater men than we Have feared Rome and Roman tyranny.
MARIUS. You talk it now like men confirmed in faith.
Well, let me try the fruits of your discourse, For care my mind and pain my body wrongs.
PAUSANIUS. Then, Favorinus, shut his lordship up Within some secret chamber in the state.
Meanwhile, we will consult to keep him safe, And work some secret means for his supply.
MARIUS. Be trusty, lords; if not, I can but die.
[_Exit_ MARIUS.
PAUSANIUS. Poor, hapless Roman, little wottest thou The weary end of thine oppressed life.
LUCIUS. Why, my Pausanius, what imports these words?
PAUSANIUS. O Lucius, age hath printed in my thoughts A memory of many troubles pass'd.
The greatest towns and lords of Asia Have stood on tickle terms through simple truth: The Rhodian records well can witness this.
Then, to prevent our means of overthrow, Find out some stranger, that may suddenly Enter the chamber, where as Marius lies, And cut him short; the present of whose head Shall make the Romans praise us for our truth, And Sylla prest to grant us privilege.
LUCIUS. A barbarous act to wrong the men that trust.
PAUSANIUS. In country's cause injustice proveth just.
Come, Lucius, let not silly thought of right Subject our city to the Roman's might: For why you know in Marius only end Rome will reward, and Sylla will befriend.
LUCIUS. Yet all successions will us discommend.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ MARIUS _the younger_; CETHEGUS, LECTORIUS, _with Roman Lords and Soldiers_.
YOUNG MARIUS. The wayward lady of this wicked world, That leads in luckless triumph wretched men, My Roman friends, hath forced our desires, And fram'd our minds to brook too base relief.
What land or Lybian desert is unsought To find my father Marius and your friend?
Yea, they whom true relent could never touch-- These fierce Numidians, hearing our mishaps, Weep floods of moan to wail our wretched fates.
Thus we, that erst with terrors did attaint The Bactrian bounds, and in our Roman wars Enforc'd the barbarous borderers of the Alps To tremble with the terrors of our looks, Now fly, poor men, affrighted without harms: Seeking amidst the desert rocks and dens For him, that whilom in our capitol Even with a beck commanded Asia.
Thou woful son of such a famous man, Unsheathe thy sword, conduct these warlike men To Rome, unhappy mistress of our harms: And there, since tyrants' power hath thee oppress'd, And robb'd thee of thy father, friends, and all, So die undaunted, killing of thy foes, That were the offspring of these wretched woes.
LECTORIUS. Why, how now, Marius, will you mate us thus, That with content adventure for your love?
Why, noble youth, resolve yourself on this, That son and father both have friends in Rome, That seek old Marius' rest and your relief.
YOUNG MARIUS. Lectorius, friends are geason[117] now-a-days, And grow to fume, before they taste the fire.
Adversities bereaving man's avails, They fly like feathers dallying in the wind: They rise like bubbles in a stormy rain, Swelling in words, and flying faith and deeds.
CETHEGUS. How fortunate art thou, my lovely lord, That in thy youth may'st reap the fruits of age; And having lost occasion's holdfast now, May'st learn hereafter how to entertain her well.
But sudden hopes do swarm about my heart: Be merry, Romans; see, where from the coast A weary messenger doth post him fast.
_Enter_ CINNA'S SLAVE, _with a letter enclosed, posting in haste_.
LECTORIUS. It should be Cinna's slave, or else I err, For in his forehead I behold the scar, Wherewith he marketh still his barbarous swains.
YOUNG MARIUS. O, stay him, good Lectorius, for me-seems His great post-haste some pleasure should present.
LECTORIUS. Sirrah, art thou of Rome?
SLAVE. Perhaps, sir, no.
LECTORIUS. Without perhaps, say, sirrah, is it so?
SLAVE. This is Lectorius, Marius' friend, I trow; Yet were I best to learn the certainty, Lest some dissembling foes should me descry. [_Aside_.