Complete Works of Thomas Otway
Page 44
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 fells 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 AETHIOP’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 he 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 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 Grievande now. I have three Boys at home, no more mine then Rome’s mine. They are all fair curl’dhair Cupids; and I am an honest black tawny Kettle-fac’d Fellow.... I’ll ha’ no Lords. ...
[Drum and Trumpets.
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. —
Enter Marius senior and his Sons, 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
Tile Seat-Tribunall.... Lictors, bring your Rods,
Axes and Fasces, and present ’em here.
Hall, Caius Marius, Consul of the War.
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, A varice 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,
Thus massacred before our eyes? Come all
That love Pompoius, 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 c’re this Ferment settle.
``Thus the Great Iove 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.
ACT III.
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 Conful, 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.