THE HISTORY and FALL OF Caius Marius.  
A TRAGEDY.  
As it is Acted at the Duke's Theatre.  
By Thomas Otway.  Qui colour Albus erat nunc est contrarius Albo. 
LONDON, Printed for Tho. Flesher, at the Angel and Crown in S. Paul's Churchyard 1680.   

TO THE LORD VISCOUNT FALKLAND.  
My LORD,  
WHen first it entered into my thoughts to make this Present to Your Lordship, I received not only Encouragement, but Pleasure, since upon due examination of myself, I found it was not a bare Presumption, but my Duty to the remembrance of many extraordinary Favours which I have received at Your hands.  
For heretofore having had the honour to be near You, and bred under the same Discipline with You, I cannot but own, that in a great measure I owe the small share of Letters I have to Your Lordship. For Your Lordship's Example taught me to be ashamed of Idleness; and I first grew in love with Books, and learned to value them, by the wonderful Progress which even in Your tender years You made in them; so that Learning and Improvement grew daily more and more lovely in my Eyes, as they shone in You.  
Your Lordship has an extraordinary Reason to be a Patron of Poetry, for Your great Father loved it. May Your Lordship's Fame and Employments grow as great, or greater than His were; and may Your Virtues find a Poet to record them, equal (if possible) to that great 
* Mr. Waller.  Genius which sung of him.  
My slender humble Talon must not hope for it; for You have a Judgement which I must always submit to, a general Goodness which I never (to its worth) can value: and who can praise that well which he knows not how to comprehend?  
Already the Eyes and Expectations of men of the best Judgement are fixed upon You: for wheresoever You come, You have their Attention when present, and their Praise when You are gone: and I am sure (if I obtain but Your Lordship's Pardon) I shall have the Congratulation of all my friends, for having taken this opportunity to express myself  
Your Lordship's most humble Servant, Thomas Otway.   

PROLOGUE  Spoke by Mr. Betterton. 
IN Ages past, (when will those Times renew?)  
When Empires flourished, so did Poets too.  
When Great Augustus the World's Empire held,  
Horace and Ovid's happy Verse excelled.  
Ovid's soft Genius and his tender Arts  
Of moving Nature melted hardest Hearts.  
It did th' Imperial Beauty Julia move  
To listen to the Language of his Love.  
Her Father honoured him: and on her Breast,  
With ravished sense in her Embraces pressed,  
He lay transported, fancy-full and blessed.  
Horace's lofty Genius boldlier reared  
His manly head, and through all Nature steered;  
Her richest Pleasures in his Verse refined,  
And wrought 'em to the relish of the Mind.  
He lashed with a true Poet's fearless Rage  
The Villainies and Follies of the Age.  
Therefore Moecenae that great Favourite raised  
Him high, and by him was he highly praised.  
Our Shakespeare wrote too in an Age as blessed,  
The happiest Poet of his time and best.  
A gracious Prince's Favour cheered his Muse,  
A constant Favour he ne'er feared to lose.  
Therefore he wrote with Fancy unconfined,  
And Thoughts that were Immortal as his Mind.  
And from the Crop of his luxuriant Pen  
ere since succeeding Poets humbly glean.  
Though much the most unworthy of the Throng,  
Our this-day's Poet fears h' has done him wrong.  
Like greedy Beggars that steal Sheaves away,  
You'll find h' has rifled him of half a Play.  
Amidst this baser Dross you'll see it shine  
Most beautiful, amazing, and Divine.  
To such ●●w Shifts of late are Poets worn,  
Whilst we both Wit's and Caesar's Absence mourn.  
Oh! when will He and Poetry return?  
When shall we there again behold him sit  
'Midst shining Boxes and a Courtly Pit,  
The Lord of Hearts, and Precedent of Wit?  
When that blessed Day (quick may it come) appears,  
His Cares once banished, and his Nation's Fears,  
The joyful Muses on their Hills shall sing  
Triumphant Songs of Britain's happy King.  
Plenty and Peace shall flourish in our Isle,  
And all things like the English Beauty smile.  
You Critics shall forget your natural Spite,  
And Poets with unbounded Fancy write.  
Even This-day's Poet shall be altered quite:  
His Thoughts more loftily and freely flow;  
And he himself, whilst you his Verse allow,  
As much transported as he's humble now.   

Persons represented.  
Men By Caius Marius. Mr. Betterton. Sylla. Mr. Williams. Marius' junior Mr. Smith. Granius. Mr. Percivale. Metellus. Mr. Gillow. Quintus Pompeius. Mr. Williams. Cinna. Mr. Jevon. Sulpitius. Mr. Underhill. Ancharius' a Senator.  Priest.  Apothecary.  Q. Pompeius 's Son.  Guards, Lictors,  Ruffians, etc.   
Women By Lavinia. Mrs. Barry. Nurse. Mr. Noakes.   

THE HISTORY and FALL OF Caius Marius. A TRAGEDY.  

ACT I.  

SCENE 1.  Within. 
Liberty! Liberty! Marius and Sulpitius!  
Liberty! Liberty! Liberty! etc.  Enter Metellus, Antonius, Cinna, and Senators. 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 Godlike Scipio held  
The Scale of Power; he who with temperate 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 Power,  
And awe this riotous unruly Rabble,  
That bear down all Authority before 'em,  
Were we not sold to Ruin.  Metell. 
Cinna, there  
Thou'st hit my Mark: We are to Ruin 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 a Licentious Rout!  
The sturdiest Drinker makes the Ablest Statesman.  Anton. 
Would it not anger any trueborn 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 reeled to one;  
To morrow they were mad again for t'other;  
Changing their Voices with their Entertainment:  
And none could guess on whom the Choice would settle;  
Till at the last a Stratagem was thought of.  
A mighty Vessel of Falernian Wine  
Was brought into the Forum crowned with Wreaths  
Of Ivy sacred to the Jolly God.  
The Monster-people roared aloud for Joy:  
When straight the Candidate himself appears  
In pomp, to grace the Present he had made 'em.  
The Fools all gaped. Then when a while he had  
With a smooth Tale tickled their ass's Ears,  
H' at both ends tapped 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 returned, all know.  
I never loved 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 harassed 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 fostered in a Corner, should by Bribes,  
By Covetousness, and all the hateful means  
Of working Pride, advance his little Fate  
So high, to vaunt it o'er the Lords of Rome!  Anton. 
Ambition, raging like a Daemon 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 AEdilis,  
He was by general Vote repulsed, yet bore it;  
And in the same day shamefully returned,  
T'obtain the second Office of that name.  
Equal was his success, denied in both:  
Yet could he condescend at last to ask  
The Praetorship, and but with Bribes got that.  
Yet this is he that has disturbed the World,  
Rome's Idol, and the Darling of her Wishes.  Metell. 
I must confess it burdens 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 promised well. His Parents were most honest,  
And served my Father justly in their Trust.  
Then as his Fortunes grew, when I was Consul,  
And went against jugurtha into afric,  
I took him with me one of my Lieutenants.  
'Twas there his Pride first showed itself in Actions,  
Oppressed my Friends, and robbed me of my Honour.  Cinn. 
The Story's famous. Base Ingratitude,  
Dissimulation, Cruelty, and Pride,  
Ill Manners, Ignorance, and all the Ills  
Of one baseborn, in Marius are joined.  Metell. 
Even 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 again, when time has worn him low,  
Consumed with Age, and by Diseases pressed,  
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 Heaven, 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,  
Flushed with Success, and of a spirit bold,  
And, more than all, hates Marius, still has crossed  
His Pride, and clouded even his brightest Triumphs:  
He's Consul now. Then let us all resolve  
And fix on him, to check this Havocker,  
That with his Kennel 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 used me thus,  
Even 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-brained Plebeian Tyrant.  Anton. 
Now Rome's last Stake of Liberty is set,  
And must be pushed 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 reduced,  
Unhindged from off the power that holds him up,  
His Band of full six hundred Roman Knights,  
All in their youth, and pampered 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 Power,  
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 Ruin. 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 Achievement;  
Wherein's described how the Numidian King  
Gave up jugurtha Prisoner to Sylla,  
And all in spite of Marius. Oh now,  
If you are truly Roman Nobleses, wake,  
Resume your Rights, and keep your Sylla Consul.  
Courage, Nobility, and innate Honour,  
Justice unbiased, 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 Daemons 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  
The have raised 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 chained in triumph hither;  
If I am he that led Rome's Armies out,  
Spent all my years in Toil and cruel War,  
Chilled 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 ruled  
By lazy Drones that feed on others Labours,  
And fatten with the fruits they never toiled for;  
Old gouty Senators of crude Minds and Brains,  
That always are fermenting Mischief up,  
And style their private Malice public Safety ....  Gran. 
One discontented Villain leads a State  
To Madness. There's that Bell-wether of Mutiny  
And damned 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, even his very Gods.  Mar. sen. 
H' has taken Rome even in the nicest Minute,  
And easily debauched her to his ends,  
When she was overcloyed with Happiness,  
Wantonly full, and longing after Change.  
For Sylla too, a Boy, a Woman's Play-thing,  
She has relinquished 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 Ruin had it in the wind;  
When Barbarous Nations, of a race unknown,  
From undiscovered 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 burden for a God) opposed myself  
'Twixt her and Desolation, gorged the maw  
Of Death with slaughtered numbers of her Foes,  
Restored her Peace, and made her Name renowned.  Mar. jun. 
The Glory of that War must be remembered,  
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 threatened Fate to Europe.  Gran. 
They came in Tribes, as if to take possession,  
And seemed a People whom the hand of Fate  
Had scourged by Famine from a barren Land,  
Of Visage foul and ugly, pinched and chapt  
By bitter Frosts and winter Winds; yet fierce  
As hungry Lions of the Desert.  
Their Wives with loads of Children at their backs,  
Bold manly Hags, whom Shame had long forsook,  
And vagrant living had enured to Ill,  
Followed in Troops 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 cursed Metellus still has been my Plague,  
And ever done me most deliberate Wrong;  
Because, like a tame Hawk, I scorned to fly  
Just at his Quarries, and attend his Lure.  
Because I grew too great for him in Wars,  
And served his Country well, he hates me. Twice  
Have I already offered him Alliance,  
And asked Lavinia, Marius, for thy Bed.  
Beggary catch me when again I court him.  
Why sighest thou, Boy? still at th' unlucky name  
Of that Lavinia, I've observed thee thus  
With thy Looks fixed, as if thy Fate had seized thee.  Mar. jun. 
Why did you name Lavinia? would sh' had ne'er  
Been 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 taste,  
The Favourite 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;  
Read 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'er dwelled there.  
Methinks 'twould not be hard, even midst the Senate,  
To strike this through him 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 Senators in Chains  
Dragged 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 Battles with renowned 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  
A side, like some old broken battered Shield:  
To see my Laurels whither as I rust:  
And all this managed by the cursed Craft,  
Petulant Envy, and malignant Spite  
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 than live in memory 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 than 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 Daemon out,  
That rages thus in Rome; or let her blood  
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 been 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 Music in the Name,  
That softening 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 Virtue in thee, or canst prize  
Thy Father's Honour, scorn her like a Slave.  
Hell! love her? Damn 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 trapped,  
And basely wedded to a Ruffian's Whore,  
Then thou shouldst think to taint my generous Blood  
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 Flowers 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 hers 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 wished-for Peace  
With old Metellus, and break Sylla's heart.  Mar. sen. 
Then she was charming.  Mar. jun. 
Oh! I found her so.  
I looked and gazed, and never missed my Heart,  
It fled so pleasingly away. But now  
My Soul is all Lavinia's, now she's fixed  
Firm in my Heart by secret Vows made there,  
Th' indelible Records of faithful Love,  
You'd have me hate her. Can my Nature change?  
Create me o'er again ... and I may be  
That haughty Master of myself 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  
Chained to the Floor, stretched helpless on his back,  
I look to Liberty, and break my Heart.  Mar. sen. 
Has she yet heard your Love, or granted hers?  Mar. jun. 
If Eyes may speak the language of the Heart,  
If tenderest Glances, Sighs, and sudden Blushes  
May be interpreted for Love in one  
So young, so fair, and innocent as she,  
Our Souls can ne'er be Strangers.—  Mar. sen. 
No more: I'll have Lavinia named no more.  
When next thou namest her, let it be with infamy.  
Tell me, Sh' has whored, 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 hateful Name no more,  
But be as Cursed as you can wish your Son.  Enter Sulpitius. Mar. sen. 
Oh Sulpitius!  
Thou darling of my 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 been a Lord,  
But he's but Wormsmeat now.  Mar. sen. 
My best Sulpitius,  
Thou always comfort'st me. See here a man,  
A Stranger to my Blood as well as Fortune,  
But merely of his choice my Honour's friend:  
What mighty things would he not do for me?  
Couldst thou, when Honour called 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 die.—  Mar. jun. 
A Plantain 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 than a Madman is,  
Confined to limits, kept, without my food,  
Whipped 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 men's Noses as they lie asleep,  
In a Chariot of an empty Hazelnut  
Made by a Joiner Squirrel: in which state  
She gallops night by night through Lovers brains.  
And then how wiokedly they dream, all know.  
Sometimes she courses o'er a Courtier's Nose,  
And then he dreams of begging an Estate.  
Sometimes she hurries o'er a Soldiers Neck,  
And then dreams he of cutting foreign Throats,  
Of Breaches ... Ambuscado's, tempered Blades,  
Of good rich Winter-quarters, and false Musters.  
Sometimes she tweaks a Poet by the Ear,  
And then dreams he  
Of Panegyrics, flattering Dedications,  
And mighty Presents from the Lord knows who,  
But wakes as empty as he laid him down.  
Sh' has been with Sylla too, and he dreams now  
Of nothing but a Consulship.  Mar. sen. 
A Rattle!  
Give the fantastic 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 than let me feel my Father's Hate ....  Mar. sen. 
Why, that's well said ....  Sulpit. 
My Troops are all together,  
All ready on the Forum: but the heavens'  
Play tricks with us. Our Ensigns, as they stood  
Displayed before our Troops, took fire untouched,  
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.  
A noise of Trumpets rattling in the Air  
Was heard, and dreadful 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 of its most dear bought Honours.  
Else why have I thus bustled in the World,  
Through various and uncertain Fortunes hurled,  
But to be Great, unequalled, and alone?  
Which only 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.  Enter Metellus and Nurse. Metell. 
I Cannot rest to night: Illboding Thoughts  
Have chased soft Sleep from my unsettled Brains.  
This seems Lavinia's Chamber, and she up.  
Rest too to night has been 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, Ladybird? 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 poisonous 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 baneful—  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 triumphed last?  Metell. 
No matter, Woman, what is that to thee?  Nurse. 
Even or odd, of all days in the year, since Marius entered 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 will be Sixteen. 'Tis since Marius triumphed 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 Dove-house-Wall) my Lady and you were at the Show. Nay, I do bear a Brain! but, as I said before, when it did taste 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 could stand alone, nay, she could run and waddle all about: for just the day before, she broke her Forehead, and then my Husband (Peace he 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 facking, 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 stopped, and said, Ay.  Metell. 
Enough of this; stop thy impertinent Chat.  Nurse. 
Yes, my Lord: yet I cannot choose 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 perilous Knock, and it cried bitterly. Ay, quo ' my Husband, fallest 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'er I nursed. Might I but live to see thee married 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 sucked thy Wisdom 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 rejoicing  
In the warm Sunshine of thy Happiness.  Lavin. 
If Happiness be seated in Content,  
Or that my being blessed can make you so,  
Let me implore it on my Knees. I am  
Your only Child, and still, through all the Course  
Of my past Life, have been obedient too:  
And as y' have ever been a loving Parent,  
And bred me up with watchful tenderest 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,  
Debauched 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 hateful Bonds, which never can grow easy,  
How miserable am I like to be?  Metell. 
Has then some other taken up your Heart?  
And banished Duty as an Exile thence?  
What sensual lewd Companion of the Night  
Have you been 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 guests the Cause,  
But when you first named 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. 
Ha!  Lavin. 
'T was Marius, Sir, I named,  
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 could 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 been to make thy Fortune high;  
And having now provided thee a Lord  
Of noblest Parentage, of fair Demeans,  
Early in Fame, Youthful, and well allied,  
In every thing as thought could 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 Revile of a Slave,  
Fat with his Master's plenty, when I ask  
A little Pity son 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,  
shivering and starved for want of warmth and food,  
Swelled with my Signs, and almost choked 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 Mistress of my Heart,  
Or cannot love according to your liking?  Metell. 
Art thou not Mistress of thy Heart then?  Lavin. 
No.  
'Tis given 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  
Cursed be thy Purposes, most cursed thy Love.  
And if thou marry'st, in thy Wedding-night  
May all the Curses of an injured 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 Heaven should practise Stratagems  
Upon so soft a Subject as myself!  
What sayst 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' Lip! and than Sylla's Nose and Forehead! But then Marius' Eye again! how 'twill sparkle, and twinkle, and roll, 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. Ah h h ... Well, Marius is the man, must be the man, and shall be the man.  Lavin. 
He's by his Father's Nature rough and fiorce,  
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 Flower of Courtesy; 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 been 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 myself 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 Marlus junior. Mar. jun. 
HOw vainly have I spent this idle Night!  
Even Wine can't heal the ragings of my Love.  
This sure should be the Mansion of Lavinia;  
For in such Groves the Deities first dwelled.  
Can I go forward when my Heart is here?  
Turn back, dull Earth, and find thy Centre 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! madman Lover!  
Appear thou in the likeness of a Sigh.  
Speak but one word, and I am satisfied.  
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 lie,  
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 charmed it down again.  Gran. 
Let's go: h'has hid himself among these Trees,  
To die his melancholic Mind in Night.  
Blind is his Love, and best befits the Dark.  Sulpit. 
Pox o' this Love, this little Scarecrow 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 should 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 do in honour with a man  
That fells his Virtue 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 than Snow upon the Raven's back,  
Or a rich Jewel in an AEthiop's ear.  
Were she in yonder Sphere she'd shine so bright,  
That Birds would sing and think the Day were breaking.  Lavin. 
Ah me!  Mar. jun. 
She speaks,  
Oh! speak again, 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 wouldst he still thyself, though not a Marius,  
Beloved of me, and charming as thou art.  
What's in a Name? that which we call a Rose,  
By any other name would smell as sweet.  
So Marius, were he not Marius called,  
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 myself, and quite be changed.  Lavin. 
Who art Thou, that thus hid and veiled 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 hateful to myself,  
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, considering 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 inquire.  
He lent me Counsel, and I lent him Eyes.  
I am no Pilot; yet wert thou as far  
As the vast Shoar washed by the farthest Sea,  
I'd hazard Ruin for a Prize so dear.—  Lavin. 
Oh Marius! vain are all such Hopes and Wishes.  
The hand of Heaven has thrown a Bar between us,  
Our House's 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 dreadful news;  
And when I urged him for the Right of Love,  
He threatened me to banish me his House,  
Naked and shiftless to the World. Wouldst thou,  
Marius, receive a Beggar to thy Bosom?  Mar. jun. 
Oh! were my Joys but fixed 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 yond 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 Powers.  Lavin. 
Nay, do not swear: although my Joy be great,  
I'm hardly satisfied with this night's Contract:  
It seems too rash, too unadvised and sudden,  
Too like the Lightning, which does cease to be  
ere 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 unsatisfied?  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 again.  
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 again.  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 send  [Exit. Mar. jun. 
So thrive my Soul. Is not all this a Dream,  
Too lovely, sweet and flattering, to be true?  Re-enter Lavinia. Lavin. 
Hist, Marius, hist. Oh for a Falkner's voice,  
To Lure this Tassell-gentle back again.  
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 again.  
How sweetly Lovers voices sound by night!  
Like softest Music 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 would have thee gone,  
And yet no farther than a Wanton's Bird,  
That lets it hop a little from his hand,  
To pull it by its Fetters back again.  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.  
Heaven be thy Guard; and all its Blessings wait thee ...  [Ex. Lavin. 
To morrow! 'tis no longer: but Desires  
Are swift, and longing Love would 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 itself 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 do?  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 than another. I care not for a Lord: what good do they do? nothing but run in our debts, and lie with our Wives.—  4. Cit 
Why, there's a Grievande now. I have three Boys at home, no more mine than Rome's mine. They are all fair curl'dhair Cupid's; and I am an honest black tawny Kettle-faced Fellow .... I'll ha' no Lords. ...  [Drum and Trumpets. 1. Cit 
Hark! hark! Drums and Trumpets▪ drum's and Trumpets! They are coming. Be you sure you roar out for a Marius; and do 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. ay, I Sulpitius,  
Your Tribune, and Protector of your Freedoms,  
By virtue of that Office here have called you,  
To choose a Consul. Mithridates' King of Pontus has begun a War upon us,  
Invaded our Allies, our Edicts violated,  
And threatens Rome itself. Whom will you choose  
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 armed to force your Suffrage,  
As Sylla does to enter Rome with Power,  
As if he meant a Triumph o'er his Country.  
I have not made a Party in the Senate,  
To bring you into Slavery, or load  
Your Necks with the hard Yoke of Lordly power.  
I am no Noble, but a Freeborn 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, etc. Guards. Metell. 
See, Romans, there the Ruin of your Freedom,  
The blazing Meteor that bodes ill to Rome.  
Oppression, Tyranny, A varice and Pride,  
All centre in that melancholic Brow.  
If you are mad for Slavery, long to try  
The weight of absolute 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 Senators, and drag  
Us headlong to the Tiber .... plunge us in,  
And bid adieu to Liberty for ever—  
Then turn and fall before your newmade God;  
Bring your Estates, your Children and your Wives,  
And lay 'em at the feet of his Ambition.  
This you must do, 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 Traitor.  Q. Pomp. 
Descend then, Marius, Traitor 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 lawful Consul from his Seat,  
Unjudged, and brand him with the mark of Traitor?  
Draw all your Swords, all you that are my Friends.  
Sulpitius, damn 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 Traitor,  
And bring me straight his Head upon thy Dart.  
The Fate of Rome's begun.  Q. Pomp. 
Our Children murdered,  
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! etc.  They fight. Marius conquers .... Mar. sen. 
Thanks for this good beginning, Gods. These Slaves,  
These wide-mouthed Brutes that bellow thus for Freedom,  
Oh! how they ran before the hand of Power,  
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 Senator 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.  
Horror, Confusion, and inverted Order,  
Vast Desolation, Slaughter, Death and Ruin  
Must have their Courses c're this Ferment settle.  
`` Thus the Great jove above, who rules alone,  
`` When men forget his Godlike Power 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. 
Room never saw a Morning sure like this:  
Now she begins to know the Rod of Power;  
Her wanton Blood can smart.  
Were I the Conful, not a Head in Rome  
That had but Thoughts of Sylla should stand safe.  Gran. 
Slaughter should have continued with the Day.  
Mercy but gives Sedition time to rally.  
Every soft, pliant, talking, busy Rogue,  
Gathering a Flock of hot-brained Fools together,  
Can preach up new Rebellion. Till the Heads  
Of all those heav'nly-inspired Knaves be crushed,  
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 Freedom,  
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,  
Stabbed with an Eye, run through the Brains with Love.  Gran. 
He talked 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 damned love  
Of Women ruins noblest purposes.  Sulpit. 
That Sex was first in mockery of us made.  
They are the false deceitful Glasses where  
We gaze, and dress ourselves to all the shapes  
Of Folly. What is't Women cannot do?  
She'll make a Statesman 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,  
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 promised 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-soldiers.  [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 Outlaw there dare send his Answer.  
Once more, Sulpitius, are the People ours,  
Enraged with Sylla's coming armed, 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 public, and my Choice confirmed,  
Or he continued 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 desperate,  
Till they run headlong into civil Discords,  
And do 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 Thoughtful Villain,  
Cinna, wh' has raised his Fortune by the Jars  
And Discords of his Country: like a Fly  
O'er Flesh, he buzzes about itching Ears,  
Till he has vented his Infection there,  
To fester into Rancour and Sedition.  
Would he were safe.  Mar. sen. 
And safe he shall be: let him be proscribed,  
The Fine upon his head its weight in Gold.  
Would I could buy Metellus' 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' ingrateful Senate, and Metellus Pride;  
And let not any thing may make me dreadful  
Be left undone. Now to our Troops 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 Friend's Delight.  Enter Nurse and Clodius. Mar. jun. 
Sulpitius, what comes here? a Sail, Sulpitius.  Sulpit. 
A tattered one, and weather-beaten much.  
Many a boisterous Storm has she been tossed 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 parched Face.  Nurse. 
Marry come up, my Gossip: whose man are you?  Sulpit. 
A Woman's man, my Sibyl, 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 choose the foremost of the Herd,  
And bear her trembling to some Bank, bedecked  
With sweetest Flowers, such as Joy would choose  
To dwell in; throw my inspired Arms about her,  
And press her till she thought herself more blessed  
Than 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.  Sulpit. 
Ha! 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 saucy 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 than 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. 
Married, 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 bribed to yield us privately his Office,  
Joined our kind Hands, and now She's ever mine.  Nurse. 
Well: 'fore God, I am so vexed, 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 myself. 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 done't look like a Gentleman that would 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 joyful 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 heavens' bless thee .... Hark you, Sir.  Mar. jun. 
What sayst thou, Nurse?  Nurse. 
Nothing, but that my Mistress is the sweetest Lady, Lord! Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing .... Oh! .... there's a Spark, one Sylla, that would fain have a finger in the by .... but she, good soul, had as lief 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 ....  Mar. jun. 
As sure as truth.  Nurse. 
Well, when it was a Little thing, and used to lie with me, it would so kick, so sprawl, and so play .... and than I would tickle it, and then it would laugh, and then it would play again. 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 been drinking Aqua vitae. 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 quenched our Passions, trifling out  
The feeble Remnant of our silly Days  
In Follies, such as Dotage best is pleased with,  
Free from the wounding and tormenting Cares  
That toss the thoughtful, 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 Loiterer,  
This most inglorious Son of cain's Marius?  
With folded Arms and downcast Eyes he stands,  
The Marks and Emblem 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 Bosom 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 called me so?  
Oh! let me fall, embrace and kiss your Feet.  
You've raised a Spirit in me prompts my Heart  
To such a Work as Fame ne'er talked of yet.  
How will 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 Yours: our Hands  
Were by a Priest this morning joined. May Heaven  
Avert th'ill Omen, and preserve my Father.  Mar. sen. 
Married? say ruined, lost, and cursed.  Mar. jun. 
Y' have torn  
The Secret from me, and I wait your Doom .....  Mar. sen. 
Go where I never more may hear thee named;  
Go farthest from me, get thee to Metellus,  
Fall on thy Knees, and henceforth call him Parent.  
I 've yet one Son, that surely won't forsake me:  
Else in this Breast I still have glorious Thoughts,  
That will at least give Lustre to my Ruin.  
Farewell .... my once best Hopes, now greatest Shame.  Mar. jun. 
Condemn me rather to the worst of Deaths,  
Or send me chained to Sylla like a Slave,  
Then banish me the blessing of your Presence.  
I 've thought and bounded all my Wishes so,  
To die 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, raised  
To th'highest expectation of Delight,  
Even in this Minute when Love prompts his Heart,  
And tells what mighty Pleasures are preparing,  
Is Master of a Mind unfettered yet.  Mar. sen. 
What canst thou do?  Mar. jun. 
This Night I should have gone,  
And ta'en 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 yourself 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 engaged, and Sylla come upon 'em.  
The Gods have done me Justice.  Mar. sen. 
Get thee gone,  
And leave me to my Fate,  
Thou maimed 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? disobeyed then?  Mar. jun. 
Bid a Courser spurred  
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 father.  Mar. jun. 
Why? would you kill me?  Mar. sen. 
No, no: I hope thou art reserved yet for  
A better Fate.  Mar. jun. 
Thanks, Heaven:  
These few kind words show I'm not quite unhappy.  Mar. sen. 
Then do not contradict my will in this;  
But part, and when our hands next meet again,  
Be't in the Heart of Sylla or Metellus ....  [Exit. [Trumpets again. Mar. jun. 
Sound higher, ye shrill Instruments of War,  
And urge its Horrors 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 taste,  
Yet did great Actions, and were Gods at last.  [Exit. 

SCENE Metellus house.  Enter Lavinia. Lavin. 
GAllop apace, ye firy-footed Steeds,  
Towards Phoebus' Lodging. Such a Charioteer  
As Phaeton 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 die,  
Take him, and cut him out in little Stars;  
And he will make the Face of Heaven 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 possessed 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.  Livin. 
Nay, prithee Nurse, why dost thou look so sad?  
Oh! do not spoil the Music of good Tidings  
With such a melancholic wretched Face.  Nurse. 
Oh! I am weary, very weary. Clodius, my Cordial-bottle.  
Fie! how my bones ache! 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 physic! Clodius, the Cordial.  Lavin. 
Th' Excuse thou mak'st for this unkind Delay  
Is longer than 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 choose a man. Yet his Leg excels all men's. And for a Hand and a Foot and a Shape, though they are not to be talked of .... yet they are past compare. What, have you Dined within?  Lavin. 
No, no▪ what foolish Questions dost thou ask?  
What says he of his Coming? what of that?  Nurse. 
Oh! how my Head aches! what a Head have I!  
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.  
My Back o' t'other 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 virtuous Gentleman. [Drinks.] Well ... what? where's your Father?  Lavin. 
Where's my Father? why, he's at the Senate.  
How oddly thou reply'st?  
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 aching Bones?  
Henceforward do your Messages yourself.  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 dingdong. Tantarara go the Trumpets; Shout, cry the Soldiers; 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 the Forum.  Enter Marius senior, Marius' junior, Granius, Sulpitius, Catulus, etc. 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 blessed of men!  
See here the Fathers of thy bleeding Country  
Prostrate for Refuge at thy feet: see there  
The Terror of our Freedom, 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 Terror and the Bane of thee her Foe.  Mar. sen. 
If th' art her Friend, why com'st thou here thus armed,  
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 oppressed  
Her Senate, made thyself by force a Consul,  
Set free her Slaves, and armed 'em 'gainst her Laws.  Mar. sen. 
Hear this, ye Romans, and then judge my Wrongs.  
Have I oppressed you? have I forced your Laws?  
Am I a Tyrant? ay, whom ye have raised,  
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 braved,  
Scorned by thy Soldiers, and at last compelled  
Ingloriously to quit th' unwieldy Charge.  
Remember too who banished good Metellus,  
The Friend and Parent of thy obscure Family,  
That raised thee from a Peasant to a Lord.  Mar. sen. 
Basely thou wrong'st the Truth. My Actions raised me.  
Hadst thou been born a Peasant, still thou'dst been so:  
But I by Service to thy Country 'ave made  
My Name renowned in Peace, and feared in War.  Sylla. 
In the jugurthine War, whose King was taken  
Prisoner by me, and Marius triumphed for't.  Mar. sen. 
Thou stolest him basely, stolst 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 highway Hedge,  
Then soil my Laurels with a Leaf of thine,  
Thou scorned Plebeian.  Mar. sen. 
Worst Perdition catch thee.  Syll. 
Disband that Rout of Rebels at thy heels,  
And yield thyself to Justice and the Senate.  Mar. sen. 
Justice from Thee demanded on my Head?  
First clear thyself, quit thy usurped Command;  
Approach and kneel to me, whom thou hast wronged.  Syll. 
Upon thy Neck I would.  Mar. sen. 
As soon thou'dst take  
A Lion by the beard: 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-soldiers, 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 die.  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 been, thou Puppet  
Of that great State and Honours I have born,  
If thou'lt do something worthy of thy place,  
Let's join our Battle with a Force may glut  
The Throat of Death, and choke 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 Prisoner? 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  
Preserved a public Spectacle, exposed  
To Scorn, and make a Holiday for Slaves?  
Oh! that Thought's Hell. Sure I should know thy Face.  
Thou hast born Office under me. If e'er  
In my best Fortune I deserved thy Friendship,  
Give me a Roman's Death, and set me free,  
That no Dishonour in my Age o'ertake me.  Officer. 
I've served and loved you well: nor would I see  
Your Fall .... My Orders were, to save your Life.  Mar. sen. 
Thou'rt a timeserver, that canst flatter Misery.  Enter Marius junior, Granius and Sulpitius, Prisoners. 
My Sons in Bonds too and Sulpitius?  Sulpit. 
Yes, the Rat-catcher's have trapped 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 pronounced.  
Thou Marius, whose Ambition and whose Pride  
Has cost so many Lives, the first that e'er  
Waged Civil Wars in Rome, Thee and thy Sons,  
Thy Family and Kin, with that vile Slave  
And Minister of all thy Outrages,  
The cursed 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 heavens',  
For crowning thus your youthful Hopes. Ha, ha, ha!  
What pleasant Game hath Fortune played 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 dreamed of, or as Sick men's Slumbers.  
Now let's take hands, and bending to the Earth,  
To all th'infernal 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 towers stand safe.  Mar. jun. 
Let not her Temples nor her God's escape.  Gran. 
Let Husbands in their Wives Embraces perish.  Mar. sen. 
Her Young men massacred,  Sulpit. 
Her Virgins ravished.  Mar. jun. 
And let her Lovers all my Torments feel,  
Doting like me, and like me banished.  
Thus let 'em Curse, thus raving tear their Hair,  
And fall upon the ground as I do now.  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 cheer 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 Accounts,  
And see what Mischief each has gathered then.  
For, Rome, I shall be yet once more thy Lord,  
If Oracles have truth, and Augurs lie not.  
For yet a Child, and in my Father's Fields  
Playing, I seven young Eagles chanced to find;  
Which gathering up I to my Parents bore.  
The Gods were sought: who promised me from thence  
As many times the Consulate in Rome.  
Six times already I've that Office bore,  
And so far has the Prophecy proved true.  
But if I've managed 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, Ungrateful Rome.  [Exeunt.  
The end of the Third ACT.   

ACT IU.  

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 pierced the fearful hollow of thy Ear.  
Nightly on yond 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 galley dressed,  
Whilst all the Birds bring Music to his Levy.  
I must be gone and live, or stay and die .....  Lavin. 
Oh! oh! what wretched Fortune is my lot!  
Sure, giving Thee, Heaven grew too far in Debt  
To pay, till Bankrupt-like it broke; whilst I,  
A poor compounding Creditor, am forced  
To take a Mite for endless Sums of Joy.  Mar. jun. 
Let me be taken, let me suffer Death,  
I am content, so Thou wilt have it so ....  
By Heaven, yond gray is not the Morning's Eye,  
But the Reflection of pale Cynthia's Brightness.  
Nor is't the Lark we hear, whose Notes do beat  
So high, and Echo in the Vault of Heaven.  
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 Straining.  
Some say the Lark and loathsome Toad change Eyes:  
Now I could wish they had changed Voices too;  
Or that a Lethargy had seized the Morning,  
And she had slept, and never waked again,  
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,  
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 Desert,  
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'er to return! must we ne'er meet again?  
My Heart will break, I cannot think that Thought  
And live. Could I but see to th' end of Woe,  
There were some Comfort .... but eternal Torment  
Is even insupportable to Thought.  
It cannot be that we shall part for ever.  Mar. jun. 
No, for my Banishment may be recalled;  
My Father once more hold a Power 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 forced,  
When left alone, to yield to Sylla's Claim,  
Defenseless as I am, and thou far from me,  
If, as I must, I rather die than 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 do. 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 ere stray, ....  [Kneels. 
Or any other Beauty ever charm me,  
If I live not entirely only thine,  
In that cursed 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 faithful to the Lord  
Of my first Vows, my dearest only 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.  Mar. jun. 
Weep not; the time  
We had to stay together has been employed  
In richest Love .....  Lavin. 
We ought to summon all  
The spirit of soft Passion up, to cheer  
Our Hearts thus labouring with the pangs of Parting.  
Oh my poor Marius!  Mar. jun. 
Ah my kind Lavinia!  Lavin. 
But dost thou think we e'er shall meet again?  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 Horror in thy Visage.  
Either my Eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.  Mar. jun. 
And trust me, Love, in my Eye so dost Thou.  
Dry Sorrow drinks our Blood .... Farewell.  Lavin. 
Farewell then.  [Ex. Mar. jun. Nurse within. 
Madam.  Lavin. 
My Nurse.  Nurse within. 
Your Father's up, and Daylight broke abroad.  
Be wary, look about you .....  Lavin. 
Ha! 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 reckoning I shall be most old,  
ere I again 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 revenged;  
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.  
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 tenderest 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 tossed 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 lie with her th'other night. But about midnight (I'll swear it waked 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 sighed, and so stretched .... I swear I was half afraid.  Metell. 
She's strangely altered 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?  Nurse. 
Gone? yes; and would I were gone too.  Lavin. 
Why dost thou sigh? what cause hast thou to wish so?  
Wert thou distressed, unfortunate as I am,  
Thou hadst then cause.  
What shall I do? Oh, how alone am I!  
I walk methinks as half of me were lost;  
Yet, like a maimed Bird, flutter, flutter on,  
And fain would find a Hole to hide my head in.  Nurse. 
‛ Odds my Boddikins! but why thus dressed, Madam? why in this pickle, say you now?  Lavin. 
Seem not to wonder, nor dare to oppose me,  
For I am desperate, and resolved 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 Vermin 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 do in't: you shan't stir.  
Nay, I'll raise the House first. Why Clodius! Catulus! Sempronia! Thesbia! Men and Maids, where are you? Oh! oh! oh! ...  Lau. gets from her. Nurse falls down. [Ex. Lavin. Enter Clodius. Clod. 
What's the matter, Mistress?  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 robbed, his House afire, his Daughter dead, and I mad. Run, run. You'll not run. Oh! oh!  [Exeunt.  

SCENE changes to the Country.  Enter several Herdsmen belonging to Marius. 1. Herds. 
GOod morrow, Brother, you have heard the News.  2. Herds. 
News, quoth a? trim News truly.  1. Herds. 
Why, they say our Lord and Master's stepped a one side▪ s 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 Wether towards, when my bald-faced Heifer stuck up her Tail Eastward, and ran back into a new Quickset, 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 occupied the Tenement these seven years, fell down, Nest and all, into the Porridge-pot, and spoiled the Broth. 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 you Wood-side upon ragged Hidebound 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 than a thousand men. Would my Kine were all in their Stalls.  Enter several Soldiers 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 body's Fools that will pay us our Wages.  2. Sould. 
Do you belong to the Traitor 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 hanged, are you?  2. Herds. 
I's poor enough to be witty, as you're poor enough to be valiant. Had I but Money enough, I'd no more be a Wit then you'd be a Soldier.  2. Sould. 
Let the hungry Churl alone.  1. Sould. 
Hark you, you Dog, where's your Lord, the Traitor 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, than 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. Soldiers. 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. Heaven keep me a Cowkeeper still .... I say ....  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 distempered 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!  
Ha! 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? ungrateful 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 Murderers past this way,  
And asked with horror for the Traitor 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 Blood, 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 overgrown Brake  
I'd rest my weary Limbs, till Danger pass me.  [Goes into the Wood Enter Soldiers 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 Drone 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 to do it with as much Deliberation and Decency as a Barber cuts a Beard. I hate a slovenly Murder done hand over head: a man gets no credit by it.  3. Sould. 
The man that spoke last spoke well. Therefore let us to you adjacent Village, and souse ourselves in good Falernum ....  [Ex. Soldiers. Mar. sen. 
O Villains! not a Slave of those  
But has served under me, has eat my Bread,  
And felt my Bounty .... Drought! parching Drought!  
Was ever Lion thus by Dogs embossed?  
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? stretched 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 Limbs 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.  
ay, who had once the plenty of the Earth,  
Now want a Root and Water. Go, my Boy,  
And see who'll give a Morsel 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 yourself 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'er my Fortune raise me .....  Enter Lavinia. 
Another Murderer? this brings smiling Fate:  
A deadly Snake clothed in a dainty Skin.  Lavin. 
I've wandered up and down these Woods and Meadows,  
Till I have lost my way .....  
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'er thou art;  
I am a poor unhappy Woman, driven  
By Fortune to pursue my banished 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'er was yet so cursed; none of thy Sex  
e'er sprung from me. My Offspring all are Males,  
The Nobler sort of Beasts entitled Men.  Lavin. 
I am your Daughter, if your Son's my Lord.  
Have you ne'er heard Lavinia's name in Rome,  
That wedded with the Son of Marius?  Mar. sen. 
Ha!  
Art thou that fond, that kind and doting thing,  
That lest her Father for a banished Husband?  
Come near—  
And let me bless thee, though thy Name's my Foe.  Lavin. 
Alas! my Father, you seem much oppressed:  
Your Lips are parched, bloodshot your Eyes and sunk.  
Will you partake such Fruits as I have gathered?  
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 Crystal Spring too in the Wood,  
And took some Water; 'tis most soft and cool.  Mar. sen. 
An Emperor's Feast! but I shall rob thee.  Lavin. 
No, I've eat, and slacked 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.  
But surely Marius can't be brought to want.  
I've Gold and Jewels too, and they'll buy Food.  Enter Marius junior. Mar. sen. 
See here, my Marius, what the Gods have sent us.  
See thy Lavinia.  Mar. jun. 
Ha!  [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 choke 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 desert 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, Daffodils and Lilies,  
And softest Camomile 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 Praetor, 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 raised him out of nothing? Was he not  
My menial Servant once, and wiped these Shoes,  
Ran by my Chariot-wheels, my Pleasures watched,  
And fed upon the Voidings of my Table?  
Durst he affront me with a sordid Alms?  
And send a saucy Message by a Slave?  
Hence with thy Scraps: back to thy Teeth I dash 'em.  
Be gone whilst thou art safe. Hold, stay a little.  Seru. 
What Answer would you have me carry back?  Mar. sen. 
Go to Sextilius, tell him thou hast seen  
Poor Caius Marius banished 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! Music? sure, the Gods  [Soft Music. 
Are mad, or have designed to make me so.  Enter Martha. 
Well, what art Thou?  March. 
Am I a Stranger to thee?  
Martha's my name, the Syrian Prophetess,  
That used to wait upon thee with good Fortune;  
Till banished out of Rome for serving Thee.  
I've ever since inhabited these Woods,  
And searched 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 loved vultures,  
That used to hover o'er my happy Head,  
And promise Honour in the day of Battle,  
Have since been seen no more. Even Birds of prey  
Forsake unhappy Marius: Men of prey  
Pursue him still. Hast thou no Hopes in store?  March. 
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 Terror to that City.  Mar. sen. 
Speak on.  March. 
Nay, e'er 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 cheer thee in a Dream with promised Fate.  Mar. jun. 
Come, my Lavinia, Granius, we'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.  Enter Servant and a Russian. Seru. 
Ten Attic Talents shall be thy Reward,  
Sextilius gives 'em thee. Dispatch him safely.  Ruff. 
Fear not, he never wakes again.  Mar. sen. 
No more,  
I will hear no more. Metellus live? no, no;  
He dies, he dies. So bear him to the Tiber,  
And plunge him to the bottom. Ha Antonius!  
Where are my Guards? dispatch that talking Knave,  
That when he should be doing public Service,  
Consumes his time in Speeches to the Rabble,  
And sows Sedition in a City. Down,  
Down with Pompeius too, that called me Traitor.  
Ha! art thou there? welcome once more, old Marius,  
To Rome's Tribunal.  Ruff. 
Now's the time.  Mar. sen. 
Stand off.  
Secure that Gaul .... Dar'st thou kill Caius Marius?  [Wakes. 
Ha! 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 barbarous Slaves are these, that envy me  
The open Air; set Prices on my Head,  
As they would do on Wolves that slay their Flock!  Enter Sulpitius. [Trumpets. 
Trumpets! Sulpitius, where hast thou been wandering  
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 Senators 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 Lictor's and Guards. Cinn. 
Romans, once more behold your Consul; so,  
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.  
Here let me pay Obedience to my Consul.  
Lead me, great Cinna, where thy Foes have wronged thee,  
And see how thy old Soldier 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,  
Disowned me for his Colleague; said, the Gods  
Had told him I designed Tyrannic power;  
Provoked 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 followed 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'ercome three barbarous Nations,  
I entered crowned with Triumph into Rome.  
I go to free her now from greater Mischiefs.  Enter Marius junior and Granius. 
O my young Warrior!  Mar. jun. 
Cursed be the Light,  
And ever cursed 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 Mistress Fortune, which has cost  
So dear, for which such Hardships I have passed,  
Is coy no more, but crowns my Hopes at last.  
I long t' embrace her, nay, 'tis Death to stay.  
I'm mad as promised Bridegrooms, born away  
With thoughts of nothing but the joyful day.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE Metellus House.  Enter Metellus, Lavinia, Priest of Hymen. Lavin. 
NAy, you have catched me; you may kill me too:  
But with my Cries I'll rend the Echoing heavens',  
Till all the Gods are Witness how you use me.  Metell. 
What? like a Vagrant fly thy Father's House?  
And follow fulsomely an exlled Slave,  
Disdained 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 Limbs: 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 show 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 than go to Sylla)  
From off the Battlements of any Tower,  
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-covered quite with Dead men's rattling Bones,  
With reeky Shanks, and yellow chapless Sculls:  
Or bid me go into a newmade Grave,  
And hide me with a Dead man in his shroud:  
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 drowsy Humour more than Sleep:  
And in Death's borrowed 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 prosperous.  [Exit. Lavin. 
Oh! farewell .....  
Heaven knows if ever we shall meet again.  
I have a faint cold Fear thrills through my Veins,  
That almost freezes up the heat of Life.  
I'll call him back again to comfort me.  
Stay, Holy man. But what should he do here?  
My dismal 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 no this shall forbid it; lie 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 fearful Point.  
Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault,  
Where for these many hundred years the Bones  
Of all my buried Ancestors are packed?  
Where, as they say, Ghosts at some hours resort,  
With Mandrake's shrieks torn from the Earth's dark Womb,  
That living Mortals hearing them run mad?  
Or if I wake, shall I not be distracted,  
Environed round with all these hideous Fears,  
And madly play with my Forefathers Joints;  
Then in this Rage with some great Kinsman's Bones,  
As with a Club, dash out my desperate Brains?  
What? Sylla? get thee gone, thou meager Lover:  
My Sense abhors thee. Do ned disturb my Draught;  
'Tis to my lord [Drinks.] Oh Marius! Marius! Marius!  [Exit.  
The end of the Fourth ACT.   

ACT V.  

SCENE Cinna's Camp before the Walls of Rome.  [Trumpets sound a General. Enter Cinna, Marius senior, and Sulpitius, Granius, two Ambassadors, Guards. Cinn. 
Ambassadors from Rome? How many Slaves;  
Traitors, and Tyrants, Villains was I called▪  
But yesterday? yet now their Consul Cinna.  
Oh! what an excellent Master is an Army,  
To teach Rebellious Cities Manners! Say,  
My Friend and Colleague Marius, shall we hear 'em?  Mar. sen. 
Whom?  Cinn. 
The Ambassadors.  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-ordered 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 Godlike 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 sorrowful afflicted Mother Rome,  
In whose kind Bosom you were nursed and bred,  
Stretches her trembling Arms t' implore your Pity.  
Fold up your dreadful Ensigns, and lay by  
Your warlike Terrors, that affright her Matrons,  
And come to her e'er Sorrows quite overwhelm her.  
But come like Sons that bring their Parent's Joy:  
Enter her Gates with Dovelike Peace before ye,  
And let no bloody Slaughter stain her Streets.  Cinn. 
Thus 'tis you think to heal up smarting Honour,  
By pouring flattering Balm into the Wound,  
Which for a time may make it whole and fair,  
Till the false Medicine be at last discovered,  
And then it rankles 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 Power 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 politic 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 Heaven and You?  Cinn. 
Go, tell 'em we expect due Homage paid,  
Of every Senator expect Acknowledgement,  
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 Banished man,  
Driven from my Country by the right of Law,  
And justly punished as my ills deserved,  
Think not of me: whate'er 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  
Trueborn 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  
Of Favourites in power, when poor men court 'em.  Cinn. 
They always hated me, because a Soldier.  Mar. sen. 
Base Natures ever grudge at things above 'em,  
And hate a Power they are too much obliged to.  
When Fears are on them, than their kindest Wishes  
And best Rewards attend the gallant Warrior:  
But Dangers vanished, infamous Neglect,  
Ill Usage and Reproach are all his portion;  
Or at the best he's wedded to hard Wants,  
Robbed of that little Hire he toiled and bled for.  Sulpit. 
I ' d rather turn a bold truehearted Rogue,  
Live upon Prey, and hang for't with my Fellows,  
Then, when my Honour and my Country's Cause  
Called me to Dangers, be so basely branded.  Mar. sen. 
ere we this City enter then, let's swear  
Not to destroy one honest Roman living.  Sulpit. 
Nor one chaste Matron.  Cinn. 
Nor a faithful Friend,  
Nor trueborn Heir, nor Senator 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 lot thy Sword go through.  
Oh! can the Matrons and the Virgins Cries,  
The Screams of dying Infants, and the Groans  
Of murdered men be Music to appease me?  
Sure Death's not far from such a desperate 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 Flowers but yet half blown.  
For having no more Fury left in store,  
heavens' face grows clear, the Storm is heard no more,  
And Nature smiles as galley as before .....  [Exeunt.  

SCENE Metellus House.  Enter Metellus. Metell. 
A Peace with Marius? O most base Submission!  
That overruling 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 been revenged 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 Journey, 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 nigh's, and so frown now.  
Well: Mistress! why, Lavinia! fast, I warrant her.  
Why, Lamb! why, Lady! Fie, 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 do?  
Dressed too? and in your clothes? and down again?  
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 vitae. Hoa! my Lord .... my Lady ....  Enter Metellus. Metell. 
Lavinia dead?  Nurse. 
Your only Daughter's dead:  
As dead as a Herring, Stockfish, or Door-nail.  Metell. 
Stiff, cold, and pale. Where are thy Beauties now?  
Thy Blushes that have warmed so many Hearts?  
All Hearts that ever felt her conquering Beauty,  
Sigh till ye break: and all ye Eyes that languished  
In my Lavinia's Brightness, weep with me,  
Till Grief grow general, and the World's in Tears.  Nurse. 
Oh Day! oh Day! oh Day! oh hateful Day!  
Never was seen so black a day as this.  
Oh Day! oh woeful Day! oh Day like Night!  Metell. 
No more: Thus in her Bridal Ornaments  
Dressed as she is she shall be born to Burial,  
I' th' Sepulchre where our Forefathers rest.  
Be't done, whilst all things we ordained 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 swelled as big as a Pumkin. Nay, my poor Baby, I'll take care thou shalt not die 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 Tribunal.  Enter two Citizens. 1. Cit 
WHither, oh! whither shall we fly for Safety?  
Already reeking murder's in our Streets,  
Matrons with Infants in their Arms are butchered,  
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,  
ere our own Slaves are Masters of our Throats.  1. Cit 
Ruin draws near us: Oh my Friend! let's fly  
To th' Altars of our Gods, and by the hands  
Of one another die as Romans ought.  [Exeunt. Enter Ancharius the Senator and his Grandson. Child. 
Hide me, my Grandsire: the ugly men are coming  
That killed my Mother and my Sister Thesbie.  
Will they kill you and me too?  Anch. 
Oh my Child!  
I cannot hide thee, nor know what to do.  
Derepit Age benumbs my weary Limbs:  
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 restored me now.  [Mounts the Tribunal. 
What Pageantry is this, Sulpitius, here?  
Remove these Slaves, and bear'em to their Fates.  1. Old man. 
We come not for ourselves, but in the name  
Of Rome, to offer up our Lives for all.  
Pity a wretched State, thou raging God,  
And let lose all thy dreadful Fury here.  Mar. sen. 
I know ye all, great Senators; 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 wronged it.  
False are your Safeties when indulged by Power:  
For soon ye fatten and grow able Traitors.  
False are your Foars, and your Afflictions falser:  
For they cheat you, and make you hope for Mercy,  
Which you shall never gain at Marius' hands.  
Who trusts your Penitence is more than Fool.  
Rebellion will renew: ye can't be honest.  
You're never pleased but with the Knaves that cheat you,  
And work your Follies to their private ends.  
For your Religion, like your clothes you wear it,  
To change and turn just as the Fashion altars.  
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;  
Away with him. Dispatch these Triflers too.  
But spare the Virgins, 'cause mine Eyes have seen 'em:  
Or keep 'em for my Warriors to rejoice in.  Anch. 
Thou who wert born to be the Plague of Rome,  
What wouldst thou do with me?  Mar. sen. 
Dispose thee hence  
Amongst the other Offal, for the jaws  
Of hungry Death, till Rome be purged of Villains.  
Thou diest 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 it 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 do you some small pleasures.  
I'll find a thousand tender ways to please you;  
Smile when you rage, and stroke 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 Mother's Breasts  
Are they instructed, bred and taught in Rome.  
For that old Paralytic Slave, dispatch him:  
Let me not know he breathes another moment.  
But spare this, 'cause 't has learned its Lesson well,  
And I've a Softness in my heart pleads for him.  Enter Messenger. 
Well now.  Mess. 
Metellus.  Mar. sen. 
Ha! Metellus? what?  Mess. 
Is found.  Mar. sen. 
Speak, where?  Mess. 
In an old Suburb Cottage,  
Upbraiding Heaven, and cursing at your Fortune.  Mar. sen. 
Haste, let him be preserved for my own Fury.  
Clap, clap your hands for joy, ye Friends of Marius.  
Ten 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.  
Rome's Walls no more shall be besmeared with Blood,  
But Peace and Gladness flourish in her Streets.  
Let's go. Metellus? we have found Metellus.  
Let every Tongue proclaim aloud Metellus;  
Till I have dashed him on the Rock of Fate.  
Then be his Name forgot, and heard no more.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE a Churchyard.  Enter Marius junior. Mar. jun. 
AS I have wandered 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 joyful news at hand.  
My Bosom's Lord fits lightly on his Throne,  
And all this day an unaccustomed Spirit  
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.  
I dreamed Lavinia came and found me dead,  
And breathed such Life with Kisses on my Lips,  
That I revived, and was an Emperor.  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 Kindred's Vault I've seen her laid,  
And have been 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 gone  [Ex. Catulus. 
Lavinia! yet I'll lie with thee to night;  
But, for the means. Oh Mischief! thou art swift  
To catch the straggling Thoughts of desperate men.  
I do remember an Apothecary,  
That dwelled about this Rendezvous of Death:  
Meager and very rueful were his Looks;  
Sharp Misery had worn him to the Bones;  
And in his needy Shop a Tortoise hung,  
An Allegator stuffed, and other Skins  
Of ill-shaped 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 scattered, 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 holiday.  
Holla! Apothecary; hoa!  Enter Apothecary. Apoth. 
Who's there?  Mar. jun. 
Come hither, man.  
I see thou'rt very poor;  
Thou mayst do any thing: here's fifty Draohmas,  
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 die? 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 drink it off, the Work is done.  Mar. jun. 
There is thy Gold, worse Poison to men's Souls,  
Doing more Murders 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 thyself in flesh.  
Now for the Monument of the Metelli ....  [Exit. Scene draws off, and shows the Temple and Monument. Reenters. 
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 entering into th' Tomb?  
Some Villain come to rob and spoil the Dead.  
whoever thou art, stop thy unhallowed purpose.  Mar. jun. 
whoever thou art, I warn thee to be gone,  
And do not interrupt my horrid purpose.  
For else, by Heaven, I'll tear thee joint by joint,  
And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy Limbs.  
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 die.  Mar. jun. 
I know I must, and therefore I came hither.  
Good Reverence, do not tempt a desperate man.  
By Heaven, I love thee better than myself:  
For I against myself come hither armed.  
Stay not, be gone gone Live, and hereafter say,  
A Mad-man's Mercy gave thee honest Counsel.  Priest. 
I do defy thy Mercy and thy Counsel,  
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 killed. Oh Marius! now too late I know thee.  
Thou'st slain the only man could do thee good.  
Lovinia .... oh! ...  [Dies. Mar. jun. 
Let me peruse this Face.  
It is the honest Priest that joined our hands,  
In a Disguise concealed. 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,  
Gorged with the dearest Morsel 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.  
Oh gorgeous Palace! oh my Love! my Wife!  
Death has had yet no power upon thy Beauty;  
That is not conquered. Beauty's Ensign yet  
Is Crimson in thy Lips and in thy Cheeks;  
And the pale Flag is not advanced 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 eternal Contract ....  
She breathes and stirs .....  [Lavinia wakes. Lavin. in the Tomb. 
Where am I? bless me, Heaven!  
'Tis very cold; and yet here's something warm .....  Mar. jun. 
She lives, and we shall both be made immortal.  
Speak, my Lavinia, speak some heavenly news,  
And tell me how the God's design to treat us.  Lavin. 
Oh! I have slept a long Ten thousand years.  
What have they done with me? I'll not be used 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. 
Ha!  
Wilt thou not own me? am I then but like him?  
Much, much indeed I'm changed from what I was;  
And ne'er shall be myself, if thou art lost.  Lavin. 
The Gods have heard my Vows; it is my Marius.  
Once more they have restored him to my Eyes.  
Hadst thou not come, sure I had slept for ever.  
But there's a sovereign Charm in thy Embraces,  
That might do Wonders, and revive the Dead.  Mar. jun. 
Ill Fate no more, Lavinia, now shall part us,  
Nor cruel Parents, nor oppressing Laws.  
Did not heaven's Powers 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 burdensome already.  
I'm all a God: such heavenly Joys transport me,  
That mortal Sense grows sick and saints with lasting.  [Dies. Lavin. 
Oh! to recount my Happiness to thee,  
To open all the Treasure of my Soul,  
And show thee how 'tis filled, would waste more time  
Than so impatient Love as mine can spare.  
He's gone; he's dead; breathless: alas! my Marius.  
A Vial too: here, here has been his Bane.  
Oh Churl! drink all? not leave one friendly Drop  
For poor Lavinia? Yet I'll drain thy Lips.  
Perhaps some welcome Poison may hang there,  
To help me to o'ertake thee on thy Journey.  
Clammy and damp as Earth. Ha! stains of Blood?  
And a man murdered? 'Tis th'unhappy Flamen.  
Who fix their Joys on any thing that's Mortal,  
Let 'em behold my Portion, and despair.  
What shall I do? 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 murdered 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 called 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 conquered many Hearts,  
But proved the greatest Torment of my own:  
Though my Vows prospered, and my Love was answered  
By Marius, the noblest, goodliest Youth  
That Man e'er envied at, or Virgin sighed for.  
He was the Son of an unhappy Parent,  
And banished 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,  
That couldst be true to exiled Misery,  
And to and fro through barren Deserts range,  
To find th'unhappy Wretch thy Soul was fond of.  Lavin. 
Do you remember't well?  Mar. sen. 
In every point.  Lavin. 
You than were gentle, took me in your Arms,  
Embraced me, blessed me, used me like a Father.  
And sure I was not thankless for the Bounty.  Mar. sen. 
No; thou wert next the Gods my only Comfort.  
When I lay fainting on the dry parched Earth,  
Beneath the scorching heat of burning Noon,  
Hungry and dry, no Food nor Friend to cheer 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 savedst my Life.  
Else I had sunk beneath the weight of Want,  
And been a Prey to my remorseless Foes.  Lavin. 
And see how well I am at last rewarded.  
All could not balance for the short-termed life  
Of one Old man: You have my Father butchered,  
The only Comfort I had left on Earth.  
The Gods have taken too my Husband from me.  
See where he lies, your and my only 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 herself with his Sword. Mar. sen. 
Nay, now thou hast outdone me much in Cruelty.  
Be Nature's Light extinguished; 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 been Friends, and in one House  
Enjoyed 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 returned: his Army's on their march  
From Capua, and to morrow will reach Rome.  
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 ruined from this very moment.  
Has my good Genius left me? Hope forsakes me.  
The Name of Sylla's baneful to my Fortune.  
Be warned 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 quenched,  
Grows more inflamed and madder by Enjoyment.  
Bear me away, and lay me on my Bed,  
A hopeless 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 peppered I warrant, I warrant for this world. A Pox on all Madmen 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 died like a Fool when h' had lived like a Knave.  [Ex. omnes.   
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE  Spoke by Mrs. Barry, who acted Lavinia. 

A Mischief on't! though I'm again 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 we're raising Volunteers again.  
For know, our Poet, when this Play was made,  
Had nought but Drums and Trumpets in his head.  
H'had banished Poetry and all her Charms,  
And needs the Fool would be a Man at Arms.  
No Prentice e'er grown weary of Indentures  
Had such a longing mind to seek Adventures.  
Nay, sure at last th' Infection general 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 wrapped in Cloaks,  
Only for love of Underhill and Nurse noke's;  
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 Cashiered, will fairly venture  
To give him ready Money for's Debenture?  
Therefore when he received that Fatal Doom,  
This Play came forth, in hopes his Friends would come  
To help a poor Disbanded Soldier home.