Hark how these murderous Romans, viper-like, Seek to bewray their fellow-citizens.
O wretched world, from whence with speedy flight True love, true zeal, true honour late is fled!
SOLDIER. What makes my lord so careless and secure, To leave the breach and here lament alone?
YOUNG MARIUS. Not fear, my friend, for I could never fly; But study how with honour for to die.
I pray thee, call the chiefest citizens; I must advise them in a weighty cause: Here shall they meet me; and, until they come, I will go view the danger of the breach.
[_Exit_ YOUNG MARIUS, _with the Soldiers_.
_Enter, with drums and Soldiers_, LUCRETIUS, _with other Romans, as_ TUDITANUS, &c.
LUCRETIUS. Say, Tuditanus, didst thou ever see So desperate defence as this hath been.
TUDITANUS. As in Numidia, tigers wanting food, Or, as in Lybia, lions full of ire, So fare these Romans on Praeneste walls.
LUCRETIUS. Their valour, Tuditanus, and resist, The man-like fight of younger Marius, Makes me amaz'd to see their miseries, And pity them, although they be my foes.
What said I? Foes? O Rome, with ruth I see Thy state consum'd through folly and dissension!
Well, sound a parley; I will see if words
[_Sound a parley_--YOUNG MARIUS _appears upon the walls with the Citizens_.
Can make them yield, which will not fly for strokes.
YOUNG MARIUS. What seeks this Roman warrior at our hands?
LUCRETIUS. That seeks he, Marius, that he wisheth thee: An humble heart and then a happy peace.
Thou see'st thy fortunes are depress'd and down; Thy victuals spent; thy soldiers weak with want; The breach laid open, ready to assault: Now, since thy means and maintenance are done, Yield, Marius, yield. Praenestians, be advis'd; Lucretius is advis'd to favour you.
I pray thee, Marius, mark my last advice: Relent in time; let Sylla be thy friend; So thou in Rome may'st lead a happy life, And those with thee shall pray for Marius still.
YOUNG MARIUS. Lucretius, I consider on thy words: Stay there awhile; thou shalt have answer straight.
LUCRETIUS. Apollo grant that my persuasions may Preserve these Roman soldiers from the sword.
YOUNG MARIUS. My friends and citizens of Praeneste town, You see the wayward working of our stars; Our hearts confirm'd to fight, our victuals spent.
If we submit, it's Sylla must remit; A tyrant, traitor, enemy to Rome, Whose heart is guarded still with bloody thoughts.
These flattering vows Lucretius here avows, Are pleasing words to colour poison'd thoughts.
What, will you live with shame, or die with fame?
1ST CITIZEN. A famous death, my lord, delights us most.
2D CITIZEN. We of thy faction, Marius, are resolv'd To follow thee in life and death together.
YOUNG MARIUS. Words full of worth, beseeming noble minds: The very balsamum to mend my woes.
O countrymen! you see Campania spoil'd; A tyrant threat'ning mutinies in Rome; A world despoil'd of virtue, faith, and trust.
If then, no peace, no liberty, no faith, Conclude with me, and let it be no life!
Live not to see your tender infants slain; These stately towers made level with the land; This body mangled by our enemy's sword: But full resolv'd to do as Marius doth, Unsheathe your poniards, and let every friend Bethink him of a soldier-like farewell.
Sirrah, display my standard on the walls, And I will answer yond Lucretius: Who loveth Marius, now must die with Marius!
LUCRETIUS. What answer will your lordship then return us?
YOUNG MARIUS. Lucretius, we that know what Sylla is-- How dissolute, how trothless and corrupt, In brief conclude to die, before we yield: But so to die--Lucretius, mark me well-- As loth to see the fury of our swords Should murther friends and Roman citizens.
Fie, countrymen! what fury doth infect Your warlike bosoms, that were wont to fight With foreign foes, not with Campanian friends.
Now unadvised youth must counsel eld; For governance is banish'd out of Rome.
Woe to that bough, from whence these blooms are sprung!
Woe to that Aetna, vomiting this fire!
Woe to that brand, consuming country's weal!
Woe to that Sylla, careless and secure, That gapes with murder for a monarchy!
Go, second Brutus, with a Roman mind, And kill that tyrant. And for Marius' sake, Pity the guiltless wives of these your friends.
Preserve their weeping infants from the sword, Whose fathers seal their honours with their bloods.
Farewell, Lucretius: first I press in place [_Stab_.
To let thee see a constant Roman die.
Praenestians, lo, a wound, a fatal wound!
The pain but small, the glory passing great!
Praenestians, see a second stroke! why so; [_Again_.
I feel the dreeping dimness of the night, Closing the coverts of my careful eyes.
Follow me, friends; for Marius now must die With fame, in spite of Sylla's tyranny.[158]
[_Moritur_.
1ST CITIZEN. We follow thee our chieftain even in death.
Our town is thine, Lucretius; but we pray For mercy for our children and our wives.
[_Moritur_.
2D CITIZEN. O, save my son, Lucretius; let him live.
[_Moritur_.
LUCRETIUS. A wondrous and bewitched constancy, Beseeming Marius' pride and haughty mind.
Come, let us charge the breach; the town is ours.
Both male and female, put them to the sword: So please you, Sylla, and fulfil his word.
[_Exeunt_.
_A little skirmish. A retreat. Enter in royally_ LUCRETIUS.
LUCRETIUS. Now, Romans, we have brought Praeneste low, And Marius sleeps amidst the dead at last: So then to Rome, my countrymen, with joy, Where Sylla waits the tidings of our fight.
Those prisoners that are taken, see forthwith With warlike javelins you put them to death.
Come, let us march! See Rome in sight, my hearts, Where Sylla waits the tidings of our war.
_Enter_ SYLLA, VALERIUS FLACCUS, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, _Citizens'
Guard_: SYLLA, _seated in his robes of state, is saluted by the Citizens, &c_.
FLACCUS. Romans, you know, and to your griefs have seen A world of troubles hatched here at home, Which through prevention being well-nigh cross'd By worthy Sylla and his warlike band, I, consul, with these fathers think it meet To fortify our peace and city's weal, To name some man of worth that may supply Dictator's power and place; whose majesty Shall cross the courage of rebellious minds.
What think you, Romans, will you condescend?
SYLLA. Nay, Flaccus, for their profits they must yield; For men of mean condition and conceit Must humble their opinions to their lords.
And if my friends and citizens consent, Since I am born to manage mighty things, I will, though loth, both rule and govern them.
I speak not this, as though I wish to reign, But for to know my friends: and yet again I merit, Romans, far more grace than this.
FLACCUS. Ay, countrymen, if Sylla's power and mind, If Sylla's virtue, courage, and device, If Sylla's friends and fortunes merit fame, None then but he should bear dictator's name.