The British drama

I would have air. But grant me strength, kind | Whate'er 'gainst Rome your awful wills decree, gods, You still are just and merciful to me. [Exeunt.

To do this act of justice, and I'll own

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Room in Horatius's house.

Enter HORATIUS, VALERIA following. Hor. AWAY, away! I feel my strength renewed,

And I will hunt the villain through the world:
No deserts shall conceal, nor darkness hide him.
He is well skilled in flight; but he shall find
'Tis not so easy to elude the vengeance
Of a wronged father's arm, as to escape.
His adversary's sword.

Valeria. Restrain your rage

But for a moment, sir. When you shall hear The whole unravelled, you will find he is inno

cent.

Hor. It cannot be.

Valeria. And see, my brother comes.

He may perhaps relate

Hor. I will not hear him;

I will not listen to my shame again.

Enter VALERIUS.

Val. And he did fly; but 'twas that flight preserved us.

All Rome as well as she has been deceived.
Hor. Let me again embrace thee-Come, re-
late it.

Did I not say, Valeria, that my boy
Must needs be dead, or Rome victorious?

Val. I come with kind condolance from the I long to hear the manner-Well, Valeriusking

To soothe a father's grief, and to express

Val. Your other sons, my lord, had paid the debt

Hor. I've heard it all; I pray you spare my They owed to Rome, and he alone remained blushes.

I want not consolation; 'tis enough

They perished for their country. But the thirdVal. True, he indeed may well supply your loss,

And calls for all your fondness.

Hor. All my vengeance:

And he shall have it, sir.

Val. What means my lord? Are

you alone displeased for what he has done? Hor. 'Tis I alone, I find, must punish it. Val. Vengeance!

Punish, my lord! What fault has he committed? Hor. Why will you double my confusion thus? Is flight no fault?

Val. In such a case as his

'Twas glorious.

Hor. Glorious! Oh, rare sophistry! To find a way through infamy to glory.

Val. I scarce can trust my senses-Infamy!
What, was it infamous to save his country?
Is art a crime? Is it the name of flight
We can't forgive, though its adored effect
Restored us all to freedom, fame, and empire?
Hor. What fame, what freedom? Who has
saved his country?

Val. Your son, my lord, has done it.
Hor. How, when, where?

'Gainst three opponents, whose united strength, Though wounded each, and robbed of half their force,

Was still too great for his. A while he stood Their fierce assaults, and then pretended flight, Only to tire his wounded adversaries.

Hor. Pretended flight, and thus succeeded, ha! Oh, glorious boy!

Val. 'Twas better still, my lord;
For all pursued, but not with equal speed.
Each, eager for the conquest, pressed to reach
him;

Nor did the first, till 'twas too late, perceive
His fainter brothers panting far behind.

Hor. He took them singly, then? An easy conquest; 'Twas boy's play only!

Val. Never did I see

Such universal joy, as when the last

Sunk on the ground beneath Horatius' sword; Who seemed a while to parley as a friend,

And would have given him life, but Caius scorned it.

Valeria. Caius! Oh, poor Horatia!

Hor. Peace, I charge thee.

Go, dress thy face in smiles, and bid thy friend Wake to new transports. Let ambition fire her, What is a lover lost? There's not a youth

In Rome but will adore her. Kings will seek For her alliance now, and mightiest chiefs Be honoured by her smiles. Will they not, youth? [Exit Valeria. Val. Most sure, my lord, this day has added worth

To her, whose merit was before unequalled.
Hor, How could I doubt his virtue !-Mighty
gods!

This is true glory, to preserve his country,
And bid, by one brave act, the Horatian name
In fame's eternal volumes be enrolled.
Methinks already I behold his triumph.
Rome gazes on him like a second founder;
The wondering eye of childhood views with awe
The new divinity; and trembling age
Crowds eager on to bless him ere it dies!
Ere long, perhaps, they will raise altars to him,
And even with hymns and sacrifice adore
The virtue I suspected!-Gracious Heaven!
Where is he? Let me fly, and at his feet
Forget the father, and implore a pardon
For such injustice.

Val. You may soon, my lord,

In his embraces lose the fond remembrance
Of your mistaken rage. The king, ere this,
Has from the field dispatched him; he but staid
Till he could send him home with some slight
honours

Of scattered wreaths, and grateful songs of praise;
For till to-morrow he postpones the pomp
Of solemn thanks, and sacrifice to Heaven
For liberty restored. But hark! that shout,
Which sounds from far, and seems the mingled

voice

I heard them say, as they departed hence,
That they had robbed me of all means of death.
Vain thought! they knew not half Horatia's pur-

pose.

SCENE I-A street of Rome.

Be resolute, my brother; let no weak
Unmanly fondness mingle with thy virtue,
And I will touch thee nearly. Oh, come on,
'Tis thou alone canst give Horatia peace. [Exit,

ACT V.

Chorus of Youths and Virgins singing, and scattering branches of oak, flowers, &c. Then enters HORATIUS, leaning on the arm of PUBLIUS HORATIUS.

Chorus. Thus, for freedom nobly won,

Rome her hasty tribute pours;
And on one victorious son
Half exhausts her blooming stores.

A Youth. Scatter here the laurel crown,
Emblem of immortal praise !
Wondrous youth! to thy renown
Future times shall altars raise.

A Virgin. Scatter here the myrtle wreath,
Though the bloodless victor's due;
Grateful thousands saved from death
Shall devote that wreath to you.

A Youth. Scatter here the oaken bough;
Even for one averted fate,

We that civic meed bestow

He saved all who saved the state.

Chorus. Thus, for freedom, &c.

Hor. My daughter's voice!

I bade her come; she has forgot her sorrows,
And is again my child.

Horatia. Is this the hero

That trample's nature's ties, and nobly soars
Above the dictates of humanity?
Let me observe him well.

Pub. What means my sister?

Horatia. Thy sister! I disclaim the impious
title;

Base and inhuman! Give me back my husband,
My life, my soul, my murdered Curiatius!
Pub. He perished for his country.
Horatia. Gracious gods!

Was't not enough that thou hadst murdered him,
But thou must triumph in thy guilt, and wear
His bleeding spoils?-Oh, let me tear them from
thee,

Drink the dear drops that issued from his wounds,
More dear to me than the whole tide that swells
With impious pride a hostile brother's heart!

Hor. Am I awake, or is it all illusion!
Was it for this thou cam'st!

Pub. Horatia, hear me;

Yet I am calm, and can forgive thy folly;
Would I could call it by no harsher name!
But do not tempt me farther. Go, my sister,
Go hide thee from the world, nor let à Roman
Know with what insolence thou darest avow

Hor. Thou dost forgive me then, my dearest Thy infamy, or what is more, my shame,
boy?

I cannot tell thee half my ecstasy.
The day which gave thee first to my glad hopes
Was misery to this-I'm mad with transport!
Why are ye silent there? Again renew
Your songs of praise, and in a louder strain
Pour forth your joy, and tell the listening spheres
That Rome is freed by my Horatius' hand.

Pub. No more, my friends.You must per-
me, sir,

To contradict you here. Not but my soul,
Like yours, is open to the charms of praise:
There is no joy beyond it, when the mind
Of him, who hears it, can with honest pride
Confess it just, and listen to its music.
But now the toils I have sustained require
Their interval of rest, and every sense

Is deaf to pleasure- -Let me leave you, friends;
We're near our home, and would be private now:
To-morrow we'll expect your kind attendance,
To share our joys, and waft our thanks to heaven.
As they are going off, HORATIA rushes in.
Horatia. Where is this mighty chief?

How tamely I forgave it.
Horatia. I will not go.
thee, then?

And canst thou feel?

lose

Go, Horatia.

What, have I touched

Oh, think not thou shalt

Thy share of anguish. I'll pursue thee still,
Urge thee all day with thy unnatural crimes,
Tear, harrow up thy breast; and then at night
I'll be the fury that shall haunt thy dreams,
Wake thee with shrieks, and place before thy
sight

Thy mangled friends in all their pomp of horror.
Pub. Away with her! 'tis womanish complain-

ing.

Think'st thou such trifles can alarm the man,
Whose noblest passion is his country's love?
-Let it be thine, and learn to bear affliction.

Horatia. Curse on my country's love! the trick

ye teach us

To make us slaves beneath the mask of virtue;
To rob us of each soft endearing sense,
And violate the first great law within us,
I scorn the impious passion.

Pub. Have a care;

Thou'st touched a string which may awake my I'd not have died by any hand but his,

[To Publius.

Horatia. Stand off, I am not mad-
Nay, draw thy sword; I do defy thee, murderer,
Barbarian, Roman!-Mad! The name of Rome
Makes madmen of you all; my curses on it!
I do detest its impious policy.

Rise, rise, ye states! (oh, that my voice could fire
Your tardy wrath!) confound its selfish greatness,
Raze its proud walls, and lay its towers in ashes!
Pub. I'll bear no more-

[Drawing his sword.
Hor. Distraction!-Force her off-
Horatia. [Struggling.] Could I but prove the
Helen to destroy

This cursed unsocial state, I'd die with transport:
Gaze on the spreading fires-till the last pile
Sunk in the blaze-then mingle with its ruins.
Pub. Thou shalt not live to that.

[Exit after her. Thus perish all the enemies of Rome! [Without.

Re-enter VALERIUS.

Val. Oh, horror! horror! execrable act!
If there be law in Rome; if there be justice,
By Rome, and all its gods, thou shalt not 'scape.
[Exit.

Re-enter PUBLIUS, followed by HORATIA

wounded.

For the whole round of fame his worth shall

boast

Through future ages.

Hor. What hast thou said? Wert thou so bent on death?

Was all thy rage dissembled ?

Horatia. Alas! my father!

All but my love was false; what that inspired
I uttered freely.

But for the rest, the curses which I poured
On heaven-defended Rome, were merely lures
To tempt his rage, and perfect my destruction.
Heaven! with what transport I beheld him moved!
How my heart leaped to meet the welcome point,
Stained with the life-blood of my Curiatius!
Cementing thus our union even in death.

Pub. My sister, live! I charge thee live, Ho-
ratia!

Oh, thou hast planted daggers here.

Horatia. My brother!

Let me reflect; this morn I had four children,
No happier father hailed the sun's uprising:
Now, I have none, for, Publius, thou must die:
Blood calls for blood--to expiate one parricide,
Justice demands another-Art thou ready?

Pub. Strike! 'tis the consummation of my
wishes
To die, and by your hand.
Hor. Oh, blind old man!

Horatia. Now thou'st indeed been kind, and I Wouldst thou lift up thy sacrilegious hand

forgive you

The death of Curiatius; this last blow

Has cancelled all, and thou'rt again my brother.

Hor. Heavens! what a sight!

A daughter bleeding by a brother's hand!

My child! my child!

Against the chief, the god, that saved thy coun

try?

There's something in that face that awes my soul,
Like a divinity. Hence, thou vile weapon,
Disgrace my hand no more.

A cry without. Justice! Justice !]

Horatia. What means this tenderness? I What noise is that?

thought to see you

Inflamed with rage against a worthless wretch,
Who has dishonoured your illustrious race,
And stained its brightest fame: in pity look not
Thus kindly on me, for I have injured you.
Hor. Thou hast not, girl;

I said 'twas madness, but he would not hear me.
Horatia. Oh, wrong him not; his act was noble
justice;

I forced him to the decd; for know, my father,
It was not madness, but the firm result
Of settled reason, and deliberate thought.
I was resolved on death, and witness, Heaven,

Enter VOLSCINIUS.

Vols. All Rome, my lord, has taken the alarm,
and crowds

Of citizens, enraged, are posting hither,
To call for justice on the head of Publius.
Hor. Ungrateful men! how dare they? Let
them come.

Enter TULLUS, VALERIUS, and Citizens.
Val. See, fellow-citizens, see where she lies,
The bleeding victim.

Tul. Stop, unmannered youth!

Think'st thou we know not wherefore we are here?

Seest thou yon drooping sire?

Hor. Permit them, sir.

Tul. What would you, Romans?
Val. We are come, dread sir,

In the behalf of murdered innocence;
Murdered by him, the man-

Hor. Whose conquering arm

Has saved you all from ruin. Oh, shame! shame!
Has Rome no gratitude? Do ye not blush
To think whom your insatiate rage pursues?
Down, down, and worship him.

1st Citizen. Does he plead for him?

Pub. Fondly loved her;

And, under shew of public justice, screens
A private passion, and a mean revenge.
Think you, I loved her not? High Heaven's my
witness

How tenderly I loved her; and the pangs

I feel this moment, could you see my heart, Would prove too plainly I am still her brother. 1st Citizen. He shall be saved.

Valerius has misled us.

All Citizens. Save him! save him!
Tul. If yet a doubt remains,

Behold that virtuous father, who could boast,
This very morn, a numerous progeny,

2d Citizen. Does he forgive his daughter's death? The dear supports of his declining age;
Hor. He does,

And glories in it, glories in the thought

That there's one Roman left who dares be grate-
ful;

If you are wronged, then what am I? Must I
Be taught my duty by the affected tears
Of strangers to my blood? Had I been wronged,
I know a father's right, and had not asked
This ready-talking sir to bellow for me,
And mouth my wrongs in Rome.

Val. Friends, countrymen, regard not what he
says;

Stop, stop your ears, nor hear a frantic father
Thus plead against his child.

Hor. He does belie me.

What child have I? Alas, I have but one!
And him you would tear from me.

Then read the sad reverse with pitying eyes,
And tell your conscious hearts they fell for you.
Hor. I am overpaid by that, nor claim I aught
On their accounts; by high Heaven, I swear,
I'd rather see him added to the heap,
Than Rome enslaved.

1st Citizen. Oh, excellent Horatius!
All Citizens. Save him! save him!
Tul. Then I pronounce him free.
Horatius,

And now,

The evening of thy stormy day at last
Shall close in peace. Here, take him to thy

breast!

Hor. My son, my conqueror! 'twas a fatal

stroke,

But shall not wound our peace. This kind embrace

Shall spread a sweet oblivion o'er our sorrows; Think'st thou, un- Or, if in after times, though 'tis not long

All Citizens. Hear him! hear him!
Pub. No; let me speak.

grateful youth,

To hurt my quiet? I am hurt beyond
Thy power to harm me. Death's extremest tor-

tures

Were happiness to what I feel. Yet know,
My injured honour bids me live; nay, more,
It bids me even descend to plead for life.
But wherefore waste I words? 'Tis not to himn,
But you, my countrymen, to you, I speak;
He loved the maid.

1st Citizen. How! loved her!

That I shall trouble you, some sad remembrance
Should steal a sigh, and peevish age forget
Its resolution, only boldly say,

Thou sav'dst the state, and I'll intreat forgiveness.
Learn hence, ye Romans, on how sure a base
The patriot builds his happiness;
Grief may to grief in endless round succeed,
And nature suffer when our children bleed;
But still superior must that hero prove,
Whose first, best passion, is his country's love.
[Exeunt omnes.

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