ROMULUS AND HERSILIA; OR, THE SABINE WAR.  
A TRAGEDY Acted at the Duke's THEATRE.  Militat omnis Amans, & habet sua Castra Cupido. Ovid. 
LONDON, Printed for D. Brown, at the Black-Swan and Bible without Temple-Bar, and T. Benskin in St. Bride's Churchyard, Fleetstreet, 1683.   

PROLOGUE  Spoken by Mrs. Butler. 
HOw we shall please ye now I cannot say;  
But Sirs, 'Faith here is News from Rome to day;  
Yet know withal, we've no such Packets here,  
As you read once a Week from Monkey Care.  
But 'stead of that Lewd Stuff (that clogs the Nation)  
Plain Love and Honour; (though quite out of fashion;  
Ours is a Virgin Rome, long, long, before  
Pious Geneva Rhetoric called her Whore;  
For be it known to their Eternal Shames,  
Those Saints were always good at calling Names:  
Of Scarlet Whores let 'em their Wills devise,  
But let 'em raise no other Scarlet lies;  
Lies that advance the Good Old Cause, and bring  
Into Contempt the Prelate with the KING.  
Of what will such vile Brutes be now afraid,  
When Rats and Weazles gnaw the lion's Beard?  
And then in Ignoramus Holes they think,  
Like other Vermin, to lie close, and stink.  
What have ye got, ye Conscientious Knaves,  
With all your Fancied Power, and Bully Braves?  
With all your standing to't; your Zealous Furies;  
Your Lawless Tongues, and Arbitrary Juries?  
Your Burlesque Oaths, when one Green-Ribbon-Brother,  
In Conscience will be Perjured for another?  
Your Plots, Cabals; Your Threats, Association,  
Ye shame, Ye very Nuisance of the Nation,  
What have ye got but one poor Word? Such Tools  
Were Knaves before; to which you've added Fools.  
Now I dare swear, some of you Whigsters say,  
Come on, now for a swinging Tory Play.  
But, Noble Whigs, pray let not those Fears start ye,  
Nor fright hence any of the Shame Sheriff's Party;  
For, if you'll take my censure of the story,  
It is as harmless as e'er came before ye,  
And writ before the times of Whig and Tory.   


The PERSONS.  
Romulus, King of Rome.  
Hostilius, A Noble Roman his Friend.  
Spurius Tarpeius, Commander of a Fort in Rome.  
Tatius, General of the Sabines.  
Curtius, A Commander of Note in the Sabine Army.   

WOMEN.  
Hersilia, Daughter of Tatius, and Wife to Romulus,  
Feliciana, Her Sister, young and Innocent,  
Tarpeia, Daughter of Tarpeius, 

Sabine Ladies attending Hersilia.  
Portia,  
Cloe,  
Cornelia,    
Soldiers, and Attendants.   The Scene Rome.  

Romulus & Hersilia, OR THE Sabine War.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE I.  Romulus, Hersilia, Hostilius, and Attendance. Rom. 
WHY weeps Hersilia? What malicious sorrow envies the world the lustre of those eyes, and draws a Cloud o'er beauty's richest treasure? Has love appeared injurious? Do you repent the blessings you have given your Romulus? And do I seem to you too, the hated Ravisher your severe Father makes me?  Hers. 
Pardon my dearest Lord, pardon these tears, 'tis the soft flame of love, here at my heart, makes these warm drops distillt is for you! Had I less value for my Romulus, I had not known these sorrows. Witness you Heavens! I wish I had a voice might reach the ear of every Roman, every Sabine, nay through all Italy, while thus I vindicate my Romulus from any force on, me, but that of love. You Gods! was this a Rape! no it was all consent; and all mutual design. But what is love? what's Truth? what's Justice? when my Flint-hearted Father calls it a Rape, and vows revenge?  Rom. 
And is this all, my Love, are these the fears that cause the precious shower? If this be all, stay those dear streams, whose every drop's a pearl of value to redeem a Captive King. I Honour Tatius as Hersilia's Father; but if he brings us War, and as a Foe approaches Rome, swelling with empty threats, I'll tell him, in the language of my Father Mars, I slight his anger, smile at his Revenge.  Hers. 
But I must be unhappy; whoever wins, you must lose sufficiently: Whether my Father or my Husband bleeds, still I am wounded, good Heavens! why have you made the sweets of love ever to be allayed with so much bitterness?  Rom. 
You kill me with your tears: My love, my love, would you have me weep too? Forbear, or I shall lose my Manhood, while all that's Roman in me melts away to see you thus desolved in sorrows; what would you have me do? Sweetest of all thy Sex, at your Command I'll fall at Tatius feet, and bid him cut my head off, because I love his Daughter more than ten thousand lives.  Hers. 
Forbid it all you Gods; no, live my Lord, live to defend Hersilia, your Hersilia, from a cruel Father, who would not let her live, that is, not love her Romulus: Live to defend that Romulus, Hersilia's better self, from an unjust invader: Methinks I feel inspired a courage truly brave and truly Roman; let the malicious world assault me with all its fury, while I am thus enthroned in your dear Arms, I am secure of Fortune.  Rom. 
Ay! now I'm blessed; now, now I Reign indeed, now at this omen, I see my Infant Rome lift her aspiring head above the Nations, while all the Ocean and the remotest Isles dance at her smiles, and tremble at her frowns. O thou brighter Venus, thou more Majestic juno, can you say this to me and not transfer at the same time the whole world's Empire hither? Hostilius! Friend! why are you silent? speak my best Friend, am I not truly great, can there be greater?  Host. 
(aside) Oh tormenting Question! How shall I answer this and not discover a base unfriendly envy? Away degenerate Passion, I'll tear thee from my long abused heart, or tear that heart out.  Rom. 
What means this silence? Does ill fate appear, in all its various forms of sorrow to me? Here drowned in tears, and there in silent groans. She cannot sure keep long from me, since she has made so near approaches. You two divide my Soul: The best of Women, and the worthiest Friend; and do you strive whose grief shall most afflict me?  Host. 
Forgive me, Sir, or rather pity me, 'tis I am only wretched amidst this common Joy, oppressed with an ill timed and causeless Melancholy. 'Tis a disease I know; let it not be infectious, why should you be concerned to hear me sigh. Are not you blessed in your Hersilias' love; you are an Emperor, a God in that, and you deserve it which of all the immortal beings would not change Heavens with Romulus? Would you contemplate the Celestial Glories? You have 'em here. Would you see brighter Stars than those above? behold 'em in these eyes. Would you have Music far beyond that of the higher Orbs? Hersilias' voice shall give it. Would you be immortal and taste Ambrosia? You have it in these Lips:  
The diet of the Gods is palled and course to that,  
But I'm a Devil, damned to despair and silence.  [Aside. Rom. 
Can I be happy, and Hostilius wear a Mourning look? My Joys should be all yours, or mine your sorrows, if I'm thus highly blessed, (and sure I am) partake of all my Fortune. Command, Rule, Reign, over my Rome and me. Have I a City, Subjects, Crown, and my Friend not the same? Is not Hostilius Romulus, and Romulus Hostilius? Take and enjoy then all that makes me happy, but leave your mournful silence.  Host. 
(Aside) Oh Royal bounty! oh unheedful kindness, he knows not what he says, nor I to answer to this invidious Friendship.  Enter Feliciana. Feli. 
Oh Sister, O dear Hersilia, what will become of us.  Hers. 
Why Sister, what surprising fright has caused this Question?  Feli. 
The City's all alarmed: While from the Terrace yonder, I saw the distant-hills towards the west-gate covered with Armed Sabines drawing this way: I hear they come to have us back, alive or dead; are these the effects of your Heroic Passions! indeed Hersilia, though I respect you dearly, you had not had my Company, if I had thought I should have died for Love.  Rom. 
Innocently pretty! fear not, Feliciana, these are but shows of terror, there's nothings real in 'em. Come Hostilius, let us go view the Enemy, and give such orders as may secure the Lady's fears, and make the Sabines know, Romans and Lovers are not to be Conquered.  [Exeunt Rom. Host. Feli. 
Sister, how great a change do we find here from the still life we 'mongst the Sabines led, while at our Father's Sylvan Palace, there, frighter from love, and seldom seen of Men, we spent so many days in the adjoining Groves, that all the wild Inhabitants knew us as part of them, the Thorstle, Nightingale, and little redbreast, with all the other pretty feathered Choir, at our approach would flock about, and fill the Air with a complete and cheerful consort: The speckled Dear would fearless bring their Fawns, and seek their food from me.  Hers. 
True Feliciana, those were our softer hours.  
Thoughtless in that calm state we passed the year,  
And knew not what it was to love or fear.  
But now I have learned both; since the brave Romulus first met me in those shades: (Ah fatal hour, yet hour I still must love) we often met, and full of angry tears at the approaching night as often parted. You know Feliciana, how we despairing ever to procure the severe Tatius to approve our love, the generous Youth of Rome, by my consent, forced us, and all our Train of Sabine Ladies, from the great feast and Sacred Rights of Consus.  Feli. 
I know too much: Would I had never known more than the harmless joys of our own dwelling. Widowed for loss of me; how will the Turtles grieve, which I so often fed, and kissed in feeding? Were they now here, methinks, I could instruct 'em to sigh, and Coo, and mourn, with better Emphesis, than their own feathered Parents in a Grove of Cypress.  [Weeps. Hers. 
Alas my pretty Sister, weep not however. If the sweet toils of Lovers are uneasy to you, you may return. Command a Chariot and a Convoy when you please; why should I force my Sister to partake my troubles.  Feli. 
Sure Hersilia cannot have so mean a thought of me, to think I'd leave her, no I'll die here: Yet wear you not my Sister, I could not go from Rome. I know not what it is, but something here, about my heart, afflicts me, and often pants, and heaves, and almost stops my breath; and will not suffer me so much as wish to be again amongst the Sabines and my once loved pleasure: Of late I always weep and sigh when private, yet know not why: I seek to be alone, hate Company, yet know not well the cause of this uneasy humour.  Hers. 
Why these are all the innocent signs of stifled Love.  Feli. 
(sighing) Indeed it may be so: Had it been any thing but that, I might perhaps have known the cause, and sought a cure; but love's so great a stranger, I can't: So much as guests at his proceedings.  Her. 
How long have you been thus?  Fel. 
ere since the willing force that brought us hither. I need not tell you (for you well remember) how at those public Shows where we were taken, Prisoners of Love, when at the signal given Your Romulus seized you, and every Roman youth, that Lady whom his choice or chance presented: Hostilius, for my quality no doubt, as being your Sister, not for my person, made me his care, and entertained me then with so much gallantry, and such obliging kindness, that I have never since had any ease but when I see him, yet I had rather die than he should know it.  Hers. 
Fear not dying my Felciana, I know Hostilius, by his silent sighs, melts with loves kindly flames as much as you.  Fel. 
That, that's my torment—: for silly as I am, I see he loves, but see withal, I'm not the Object. Since that dear time of our first encounter, he never treated me with one kind word; But wheresoever I'm present, he looks another way, and sighs, and never speaks to me.  Hers. 
Pretty Feliciana weep no more; but trust your Cares to me, I will find out a Cure, for this sweet innocent Passion. Mean time, let's seek my Romulus: I have not patience to endure his absence: I know his friend is with him too: Come Sister, you shall see Hostilius.  Fel. 
O hold, I dare not Sister: Since I have told you all my weakness for Hostilius, I am ashamed to let you see me see him.  Hers. 
Away you foolish Innocent, remove  
Such idle scruples, or ne'er thrive in Love.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. I. SCENE II.  Enter Romulus, Hostilius, Spurius Tarpeius. Rom. 
THE Western Gate that fronts the Enemy, with the adjoining Fort, Tarpeius, I commit to your experienced Loyalty and Conduct.  Sp. Tar. 
It is an honour Sir, which when I give you cause to wish undone, take off my head.  Rom. 
Hostilius, to you belongs all the Command I have myself in my own City.  Hostil. 
Why should you be so prodigal of favours! Why should you lavish thus, my best of friends, what Heaven and your own merits have conspired to make you only worthy of! On me, on me too: One that can taste no happiness, one whose dull sense has lost all relish of a blessing, one born to be a wretch, a cursed unhappy wretch!  Rom. 
This is extravagancy, sure friend you are not well.  Hostil. 
My tongue too much betrays me, would I could spit it out— I must confess, great Sir, my mind of late is much distempered: Which often makes my language out of order. It is a causeless transiant Cloud, I know, and soon will over. I beg you take no notice of it. I am too sensible of my own imperfection, and am ashamed to have it known to others.  Rom. 
'Tis reason nobly urged, I'm silent— but see Hersilia.—  Enter Hersilia, Feliciana, Tarpeia, etc. Rom. 
Be safe my Love as your own wish can fancy: Nor let the pretty Feliciana fear, since Rome is now so guarded, that the Sabines may as well hope to storm the Cloud as prevail here: No arms but those of friendship can pass these Walls.  Her. 
I think, my Lord your cause will raise an Army even of Women. Tarpeia talks so bravely here, and in such Martial Language, that were we all like her we alone were sufficient, not only to defend ourselves, but to subdue all the adjacent Enemies of Rome.  Rom. 
Your Conquest, sweet Hersilia, have been already greater: And for the fair Tarpeia since she appears so brave, she too shall have a share in our Command— Tarpeius, let your Daughter act as Lieutenant in your absence: This is the Lady's War, and why should then that Sex be barred to share the honours of it?  Enter a Soldier. Sol. 
Sabinus Curtius' Sir, sent from the Enemy, attends without.  Rom. 
Admit him.  Fel. 
Now Sister should this War, scarce yet begun, end in a treaty?  Hers. 
As I'm a Sabine by my Birth, I wish a Peace with honour, but I am more a Roman by my inclination than to desire it basely.  Enter Curtius. Cur. 
Tatius the just, to the great Romulus, hath sent these terms of Peace—  Host. 
He speaks as if we were already Conquered!  Rom. 
Suffer him, good Hostilius.— Go on Sir  Cur. 
He says the Sabines never yet loved war merely for the inhuman act of killing. 'tis your own selves then that destroy yourselves, if you refuse him Justice; he offers therefore, ere yet the Sword has been unkind to Roman Mothers, e'er widowed Matrons, with hands up heaved to Heaven, name you, and curse the cause that robbed them of their Husbands, ere Orphan Babes, like Callow Birds, the old one killed abroad, die mourning for their food; 'ere these and thousand worse events of war arrive, he offers to withdraw his arms, if you restore Hersilia and the other Ladies.  Host. 
Restore Hersilia?  Cur. 
Who 'gainst the Law of Nations, 'gainst all the rights of Civil life, you first invited to your public Entertainments, and then from thence so foully ravished. Our General farther says, if after this your merits can prevail with their respective Parents, to gain 'em for your Wives, you shall have liberty to use such formal means in your address, as peace and Love, not brutal force allow of.  Rom. 
Tell the most Noble Tatius, he is now our Father-in-law, and we as such shall treat him; how ere his, passion bids him act with us. Hersilia's not ashamed to call her Romulus Husband; and can her Romulus fear to call her Wife, and as such keep her here? No, should he bring a greater force than that which made the ten years' Siege at Troy, here she should live and Reign, secure, and better guarded then their Palladium: And for the other Ladies, (in all but thirty, and most Attendants to Hersilia) they have all found by their own free Election, Husbands or humble Lovers of the best of Rome; I cannot force the property of others, nor can I in civility bid 'em remove, where their own choice and love has made 'em settle; besides it were impertinent and base for us to quit the love which they themselves have given, and make a new Court o'er again to their old Parents; as for the foul act which you charge me with, and call a Rape, Hersilia's self, whose every sillable's a sacred truth, can purge that scandal.  Hers. 
Yes; Heaven and I can Witness, so can Feliciana, that 'twas no force but a confederate plot 'twixt my loved Lord and me I knew too well how little kind my Father was to all the Romans, how vilely he has spoke of their original, and the Asylum, with reason therefore my Lord and I despaired of his assent, and used this means to Crown our loves: Are your demands then just or Honourable that seek to make a Husband quit his Wife?  Host. 
Restore Hersilia? Did he not say ere while restore Hersilia? No, I will first myself fight your whole Army, take all the wounds ten thousand swords can give me, challenge every weapon in all your Camp to do its office here, Cut, Gash, and mangle every part about me, till there's not left one place to make a wound on, and I at last drown in a Sea of my own blood, ere you shall have Hersilia.  Feli. 
(aside) Sure he mistakes the name, he should have said Feliciana; my love would have it so. How happy had I been, if this concern, this high excess of favour had appeared for me, but now how wretched; O I shall faint, conduct me, sweet Cornelia, to my Chamber.  [Exit. Rom. 
Your friendship, dear Hostilius, carries you beyond your temper; my cause too far transports you.  Cur. 
If these be your resolves, I have command to tell you, War must force the right which you deny us.  Rom. 
If we must fight, where we had rather Love, and use those arms to kill which should embrace, know Curtius we are ready either way: Nor let your Sabines think to find our courage less than our love successful. We know the way to make your Men as well as Women Captive. Tarpeius see him safe without the walls: Farewell Sir.  Host. 
Since you demand to have Hersilia back, I am no Man of words, I cannot argue whether the thing be just which you demand, but if you are brave meet me in the next skirmish, and then like Men and Shoulders we'll dispute it. This if you dare.—  Cur. 
I smile at these last words; I dare do more than I dare speak, I am a Coward in my boasting. I long to meet you, Sir, till than I am your Servant.  [Exit Cur. and Tarpeius. Tarp. 
Gallantly answered, and with temper; methinks I love him for't, I wish I were a Sabine Maid, or he a Roman.  Aside. Rom. 
Come my Hersilia, while we have you, we cannot doubt the fate of Rome; Fortune and Victory must act for us, having so dear a pledge: The love inspired  
By you, a stronger power and more assistance brings  
To our Triumphant cause, than all the aid,  
I justly may expect from Mars my Father.  
Then how successless must the Sabines prove  
Opposing both the Gods of War, and Love.  [Ex. all but Hostilius. Host. 
But more successless I, who fight against  
Two such almighty passions as Love and Friendship:  
Ye Gods! What have I done to merit such a torment?  
While these two Heavenly flames strive in my breast,  
'Tis hell to me: I'm damned in the contest.  
But why should I look on, as unconcerned  
While Civil War within me rends me piecemeal;  
No, I will be a Monarch o'er myself,  
And crush the Rebels. Away thou soft seducer Love,  
Tyrant and Traitor; I am a Roman,  
And will keep my Friendship sacred.  
Who can offend in thought, so sweet a Friend  
As is the Mighty Romulus? How blind is real kindness,  
He could not see my Passion for Hersilia,  
When my love raved but thought it his concern:  
O innocent obliging Goodness! I wish  
The Sword of Curtius, when we shall meet,  
May find a way to revenge Romulus,  
And piercing this offending bosom, end  
Those thoughts that dared to injure such a friend.  [Exit.   

ACT. II.  

Scena Prima.  A Field before the Walls of Rome. Drums and Trumpets. Enter Curtius and other Sabines. Cur. 
I Would not have this skirmish grow into a Battle,  
Ho, Lausus,  
Bid those Rutilian succours halt till further Orders.  1. Sab. 
The Romans, Sir, draw from their works apace▪  Cur. 
No matter, I know they are too brave  
To use their odds,—  
O are you come Sir.  Enter Hostilius and other Romans. Host. 
(To his party) Stand here; approach no nearer  
As you respect your lives.  Cur. 
(To his) Withdraw to the same distance,  
And leave me single to my Generous Enemy.  Host. 
Curtius, I see you are Noble and dare be brave;  
I ought in Justice then to ask your Pardon,  
That I e'er questioned it: they were rash words,  
And I repent 'em.  Cur. 
Spare your Apologies. First try what truth  
Is in the appearance. If I indeed have Courage,  
You may have cause enough, Sir, to repent,  
But if you find me shrink chastise me for it.  Host. 
The same for me— Come, Sir, this is for Romulus  
The best of Men, and sweet Hersilia's cause.  [They fight, and pause. Cur. 
Sure Hostilius, you but dally, and hardly think me  
Such an Enemy as may deserve you utmost force.  
Know then if you are Romulus' Champion,  
I am his secret Rival. I love Hersilia,  
Tho she herself yet never knew it,  
And with so strong a Passion,  
That were not Tatius for this war; should he  
Forget his Daughter, yet I myself  
Would raise an Army to redeem my Mistress,  
This sure will make you fight in earnest.  Host. 
Unhappily discovered! O, I am wounded  
In the most tender part about me; thou hast  
Unkindly robbed me of my Honour;  
That which I late designed my dear Friends quarrel  
Is now my own; my boasted Friendship, spite  
Of all my reason, basely yields to love,  
The near extinguished flame rages again,  
Now I have found a Rival. Hold Curtius;  
Let me reward your secret with a another,  
That's yet unknown to all the world;  
I love Hersilia, (I wish I could not say)  
Equal to Romulus; and if my flame  
So hardly yield to what I owe to him,  
The Good, the Great, the God-born Romulus,  
How can I hear thy Claim? Have at thy heart.  Cur. 
Guard well thy own, Hostilius, my heart can know  
No wounds; but what Hersilia gave,  [Fight, both Wounded. Cur. 
How just and how invincible so e'er,  
You think your cause, I see, 'twill not protect you:  
You are not invulnerable. You can bleed,  
As well as I.  Host. 
It is my glory, Curtius!  
I never loved my blood till now, that it appears  
So ready to be spent in her dear cause  
For whom I have it. Flow, flow for ever  
You immortal Fountains; the streams you see, O Sabine,  
Are not the Ebbs of life but springs of love.  Cur. 
That shall be thus determined:—  [Fight. 1. Sab. 
Should we stand here and see the noble Curtius'  
Fight to death?  2. Sab. 
It is not reason, His life's not all his own but partly ours.  1. Rom. 
See, yonder Sabines move to assist their Leader:  
We must not see the brave Hostilius fall oppressed by number.  [The Soldiers draw to their Principals, and all engage. Enter Romulus. Rom. 
My Friend engaged and wounded; it was a lucky  
Chance that brought me to this quarter.  [He engages; the Sabines beaten off. Host. 
Ill timed assistance! had not he appeared  
Either I might have killed or died;  
Fortune I cannot thank thee for this kindness.  [Aside. Rom. 
Still brave and still in noble danger, why  
Are you so covetous of Honour, Friend,  
As thus to steal it from your Romulus,  
And not acquaint me with the envied purchase?  
Why that emphatic sigh? I know 'tis not your wounds.  Host. 
A wound how deep soever, was never worth it.  
But these are slight.  Rom. 
'Slight as they are, I'll urge the cause no further  
Till I have seen 'em dressed,—  Host. 
I'd rather make 'em wider; why do we not  
Pursue the Enemy? Let me but once again  
Engage with Curtius, and I will never ask  
Another favour.  Rom. 
You shall not go—  [Holds him. 
I never used my power upon my friend till now:  
Indeed you shall not go.  Host. 
Under how grievous a restraint am I,  
Who can with pleasure neither live nor die?  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II. The Palace.  Enter Tarpeia, Portia. Port. 
WHat a sad sight Tarpeia have we had  
From yonder Terrace? The memory still afflicts me.  
Methinks it is a most undecent thing,  
To see brave men, whom nature sure ordained  
For better ends, and more to her advantage,  
Like Tiger's fight and wory one another.  Tarp. 
You tremble Portia, that which chills your blood  
Has heated mine to noble Emulation,  
Had I been man I had not stood with you,  
Idle spectator of the brave engagement  
But run among 'em, wild, to the thickest action.  Port. 
Sure you but jest, can any woman have  
Thoughts so extravagant—  Tarp. 
Nature as wronged me when she made me Woman:  
Or else when I was formed, she heedless and hastily,  
Snatched the next Soul for me, and left my Sex Imperfect.  Port. 
Love is our Province, Women know no Wars,  
But of the passions: Hope, Fear, soft desires,  
Sorrows and sudden joys, make all our Battles.  
Happy are you Tarpeia, since your heart,  
Thus armed, seems proof against that passion  
Which kills, and even damns so many of us.  Tarp. 
Would it were so, my Portia, as you fancy.—  
But waveing this, I prithee tell me freely,  
Which you esteem the most deserving Men,  
Our Romans or your Sabines?  Port. 
Ay this I like indeed, I'd rather talk  
Of gallant Men, than see 'em fight and kill.—  
By juno, than Tarpeia, I esteem  
Your Roman Mien; it speaks a Soul more great,  
A finer shape, a face more pleased, a look  
More amorous than ours.  Tarp. 
Come, this is all but Compliment to me.  
Methinks your Sabines much excel our Men,  
Solid, Majestical, of such a look  
As speaks 'em truly just, and even tempered,  
More noble than to give a wrong, but when  
Received, duly requiting.  Port. 
Call 'em severe, Tarpeiu, and revengeful.  
O did you know how strict they guard their Women,  
Seldom or never seen abroad, but at  
A Sacrifice or public Rites to Heaven:  
Thus Tatius kept his Daughters, a Man so just  
He knows no mercy.—  Tarp. 
— But what of Curtius, prithee?  Port. 
You have named the only he of all our Nation,  
That's like a Man indeed, such as I'd have him:  
Young, Courtly, Brave, well made, and Noble born,  
Mighty obliging, and of as mighty Courage.  Tarp. 
She reads my closer thoughts, before she spoke  
My Soul had framed this Character of Curtius.  [aside. Port. 
But for that one we have a world of others,  
Who though endued with virtue upon virtue,  
Are yet of such a sullen gravity,  
And so morosely wise you'd think 'em out  
Of humour with the world, yet more contented  
In a small House and Garden, than Kings in Courts.  Tarp. 
But Curtius—  Port. 
Seems more a Roman, than a Sabine; he  
Scorns the low thoughts of dull Philosophy;  
And since the Gods gave him a Prince's Soul,  
He overlooks the fate of a Plebeian,—  
Rome, Rome must Rule the World! it can't be otherwise,  
Since she alone can show a thousand such.  
I fancy Romulus.—  Tarp. 
More, more, of Curtius: I love to hear thee speak;  
You paint so prettily the Man your favour.  Port. 
I favour him, Tarpeia? alas that needs not;  
He little values any of our favours.  
For he had never any Mistress yet;  
(At least, that we can guests) that's his chief fault.  Tarp. 
I like this best of all; I have no Rival.  [aside. Enter Cornelia, Singing. 
Use your Youth, use your Youth and happy hours,  
while they remain:  
Cheerfully, Cheerfully, while they are ours,  
the blessings entertain,  
For time once lost can ne'er be found again.  
For time once, etc.  Tarp. 
See Portia, see, how unconcerned she seems,  
Careless of fate while the alarms of war,  
Or fiercer love, disquiet all her Sex.  
Have you no heart Cornelia?  Cor. 
Not to admit of love, or fear, Tarpeia:  
The Boy-God never dared to wound my breast:  
And if I'm armed against a God, why should  
I fear a Soldier,— Portia the Queen asks for you.  Port. 
Then we must part: Farewell Tarpeia.  [Ex. Port. Cor. Tarp. 
Farewell; farewell Conelia, ah happy Girl,  
In her own Childish innocence secure;  
She never dreams the smart which I endure.  [Exit  

SCENE. III.  Romulus, Hostilius. Rom. 
HOW long, Hostilius, must I sue in vain,  
To know the cause why I am thus afflicted,  
That is, why you are thus afflicted? Could I  
Have kept a secret from my Friend so long?  
Could I have let him beg so long for that  
Which should be his without so much as asking?  
(For every Friend, or is, or aught to be  
A confident) nor should I care to know it,  
But only in design to ease your sorrow;  
Had you a secret cause of joy, I should  
Not then have importuned you for it.  
Why stand you thus, silent, and almost senseless,  
As you would say, I cannot answer what  
You urge, and will not what you ask?  Host. 
O worthiest of Mankind! O Prince too good  
To be my Friend! I would not have you love,  
But pity me, and let me still be silent.  Rom. 
I cannot, must not, dare not, suffer it,  
Good Hostilius.—  Host. 
Then you will not pity me,  
I see I must appear foul and unworthy  
In denying, or still more foul and more  
Unworthy in Confessing. O mistaken goodness!  
When you shall see my Soul naked and bare,  
Of all its silent varnish, when you have stripped  
Off the disguise, you'll find so base an object,  
So poor and so degenerate a Roman.  
And such a Monster of abused Friendship,  
You'll start at the discovery, and curse me for it.  Rom. 
Who but Hostilius, durst have said this of Hostilius?  
Or do you aim th' unworthy Character,  
At some less dear and less deserving Roman?  Host. 
I do not know another Roman that deserves it.  
No Sir, 'tis I: I am the unworthy owner.  Rom. 
Come all this is false, and feigned to put me off:  
I see through your pretences, if will not do  
Hostilius; and I must know your discontent.  Host. 
Suppose then—  
(For such a Crime, from one obliged like me  
Ought not to be discovered but by supposition)  
Suppose I had agreed with Tatius,  
To give the City up, betray the Army,  
And make my Friend his Prisoner—.  Rom. 
I could forgive it.  Host. 
Suppose I had designed, prompted by my Ambition,  
To stab my Friend basely, and when ungarded,  
Usurp his Crown, and make myself the head of Rome—  Rom. 
'tis all impossible, but still I should forgive it.  Host. 
Higher yet: Suppose I love Hersilia,  
Your, your Hersilia, love her to enjoy her,  
For that dear end, suppose I'd be a Traitor,  
A Devil; repine and covet those sweet joys,  
Which only you can merit, envy all  
The Heaven which you possess in her embraces.  
How say you now? Now am not I a Villian?  Rom. 
No, but a foul dissembler of a foul, false scandal,  
Do not I know Hostilius? I'm sure he cannot  
Think a Crime like these; I know he cannot,  
Since my Remus died,  
I never had so near a Friend; Remus and I,  
Were not such Twins in blood, as we two in  
Affection. Are not we Aeneas and Achates?  Host. 
'tis true, I know you are God born like him,  
As good, as great a friend as he; you are  
The more Divine Aeneas: But where is now,  
Faithful Achates? O I am not worthy.  
I must confess all that I said was false,  
But that which most concerned you; I love Hersilia:  
Ay, there it is, that strikes the very root  
Of friendship; now I'm sure you can't forgive me,  
Nor is it fit you should, I can't forgive myself.  
As good and God like as you are you should  
Not stand unmoved thus, like a Temple Idol;  
But draw and sheathe your Sword here in this breast,  
That dared to harbour such injurious passion:  
Come, Sir, you see how wide my bosom opens  
To receive your Justice; I'll meet your Sword,  
And pull it home with my own hands,—  
Are you still motionless? I shall not think  
You love Hersilia as you ought, unless  
You kill me.  Rom. 
A Friend, who can confess offending thoughts  
And, like you, hate 'em, ere they grow to action,  
Pleading against himself, with so much Rigour,  
Is still a friend. Our inclinations  
Are not at our Election; but he, that can  
Like you govern his rebel thought by the  
Strict rules of Justice and true reason,  
Ought to be loved, and honoured as a King.  
Be reconciled Hostilius to yourself,  
For you are still as dear to me as ever:  
Hostilius' Honour and Hersilia's Virtue,  
Admit no Jealous scruples.  Host. 
Is this your Sentence on Hersilia's Lover!  
Do you thus treat a Rival? unheard of friendship!  
Mark then what I decree with better Justice,  
For my own Penance. Since you now have known  
How false my passions are, how strong that love  
That ought not to be named; to free you of suspicion  
I'll leave your Rome, for voluntary Exile,  
And never see again my Romulus, nor his Hersilia.  Rom. 
Must I be punished then, because you say  
You have offended; must I lose so dear  
A Friend, because that Friend thinks he had wronged me?  
We will not part, I'll lose an eye before  
Hostilius; no, I will hazard all the ills  
His love can do me.  Host. 
Will you outrival me in Honour too?  
Will you not let me have that Mistress free?  
O, you are cruel;—  
If you were kind you would not keep me here,  
Ever in sight of Heaven, yet in a state  
Of such Damnation, I cannot hope  
(Nor ought I) to enjoy it.  Rom. 
I'll woo Hersilia to smile upon you;  
I know she will for my sake,—  Host. 
I dare not trust myself before her smiles,  
They will unhinge my virtue, besides  
A smile, though much above my merit, yet to  
A love like mine, gives little satisfaction,—  
And yet she ought not to give more,— and yet,—  
O I am wild, the more I think of this  
The more I am confounded. Thus low I beg  [Kneels. 
You'd let me leave you. By all the ties  
Of friendship; by all the love you owe  
Hersilia, allow my absence; for only that  
Can cure my frenzy:  Rom. 
To beg with such concern is to command,  
Where the request is to a love like mine.  
If you will go Hostilius, you have your liberty;  
But let this dear embrace, and this, convince you,  
That when we separate, you carry with you  
The better half of your loved Romulus.  Host. 
Witness, sweet Heavens, with what constraint I leave him!  
No cause but one could make so sad divorce.  
To be a Friend, I leave my Friend for ever.  
I'll now to unfrequented Woods, and seek  
To lose Mankind; for after Romulus,  
Who would know other Men? and who would see  
A Woman that hath once known Hersilia?  
Farewell thou God of Friendship; once more Farewell.  [Embrace. 
I go imperfect, You keep back my heart:  
With such a groan the Soul and body part.  [Exit. Rom. 
He's gone.  
O sacred power of Love! was e'er affection  
Like this of his? to quit his Mistress, for his Friend,  
Nay more, to quit both Friend and Mistress rather  
Than injure me? O truly Noble Roman!  
Who can his passion in due terms express?  
Had he not loved amiss, his love were less.  Enter Hersilia and Feliciana, Attendants. Feli. 
Why did you bring me hither Sister? Here's no Hostilius.  Hers. 
Would you have died in silence! Should I let you  
Weep by yourself, till I had lost my Sister,  
And in a Fountain full of Maiden tears  
Found all the poor remains of my Feliciana.  
You must not grieve so much, indeed you shall not:  
Do not I stand engaged to make you happy?  Feli. 
Softly, for Heaven's sake: Your Lover's there,  
I would not he should hear you for the world.  Rom. 
My dear Hersilia! O my only comfort,  
I have a Piteous tale to tell my Love,  
Hostilius my best friend, is now my Rival.  Hers. 
Hostilius?  Rom. 
Yet so admired a Friend he still remains,  
That to secure my love, and ease his own,  
He hath forsaken Rome, and given himself  
To a perpetual Exile.—  Feli. 
(aside) Heart hold a little: Life do not yet forsake me:  
The other killing word, and then farewell.  Rom. 
I'll borrow a few minutes of my Love  
To view the works, and give abroad new orders,  
And then you shall have all the wondrous story.  [Exit. Hers. 
Feliciana! Sister! do but here me,  
O she faints—  [Feliciana faints back into one of her womens' Arms. 
Cornelia, Portia, Cloe,  
Give all you help here quickly: O she's gone!  
The fatal news was too too rough, her ear  
Too tender to endure it: Bend, Bend her forward;  
Give her more air: kind Heavens she comes again.  Feli. 
O too unkind, O cruel Romulus,  
Was it not death enough for him to tell me  
Hostilius loves my Sister—  
But he must kill me o'er again and say,  
He's gone for ever? Why do you thus torment me?  
Why do you show me Rome again, and not  
Hostilius in it? But I will follow him.  
If he be yet in this vexatious world,  
I'll find my Love, or lose myself in searching,  
If to the world below he be retired,  
I shall be there almost as soon as he;  
The way is easy thither, and I can't miss it.  Hers. 
Conduct her gently to repose Cornelia.  
What a surprising turn was this? Poor Sister?  
I have engaged beyond performance for her.  
Ye Gods, that favour innocence, be kind;  
Keep her wits safe, and cure her troubled mind.  [Exeunt.   

ACT. III.  

SCENE I.  Scene, the Sabine Camp. Enter Tarpeia in Man's Apparel. Tarp. 
FOrgive me Maiden shame, that in this Habit  
I seek to ease a Passion, for whose sake  
The Gods have taken, more undecent forms.  
Yet still I am resolved to keep my Honour  
Safe and entire, I would but see him once  
Again, and then farewell the thought for ever.  Enter a Sentry. Cent. 
Stand and reveal yourself; who are you there?  
From whence, and whither going?  Tarp. 
I come from Rome, my business to Lord Curtius.  
If you can bring me Soldier to his presence,  
Take this and this for expedition.  Cent. 
Gold as I live; if that be all, Sir, follow me.  [Exeunt. Enter Curtius. Cur. 
Hard fate of Lovers! The wounds that I received  
From that Hostilius, far less afflict me  
Than to discover that he is my Rival;  
In vain, I fear, have I procured this War  
Of Tatius, in vain, did I exasperate  
The good old Prince against his Daughter's Lover,  
And vilified the Noble Romulus,  
If thus the Roman Hydra, Love, produces  
New heads to be cut off before we Conquer.  
Think Curtius, think in time, not only how  
To gain Hersilia, but to save thy Honour.  Enter Soldier. Sold. 
A Youth attends without from Rome, he says  
He has affairs to you, and prays admittance.  Cur. 
Let him Enter, and do you withdraw.  [Exit Sol. Enter Tarpeia. Tarp. 
Would I were off again; now I should speak,  
Heavens! how I am confounded?  [Aside. Cur. 
Would you with me, young Roman?  Tarp. 
I am employed Sir, from the Sabine Ladies,  
Now Roman Wives, Hersilia and—  Cur. 
Oh speak that Name again, sweet youth, and win  
My Soul for ever! Is this Hersilia's message,  
And to me?— There's Music in thy voice.  Tarp. 
(aside) What means this transport? The happy lie, it seems,  
Is well accepted.— Hersilia, Sir, and all  
Your other Sabine Beauties now in Rome,  
Have bid me tell you, and by you, Tatius;  
Since the kind ties of Love are stricter far  
Than those of blood, they cannot leave their Husbands;  
Nor will they ever think of coming back:  
If by your Arms (which yet they cannot fear)  
You conquer Rome, and make 'em yours again,  
You'll force their wills, and do a fouler Rape,  
Than that which brought 'em thither.  Cur. 
Unkind!— thou art a cunning and dissembling Boy;  
Fie on such early falsehood. Would any one  
But such a smoothdeceitful thing as you,  
Have raised my hopes, to glorious Expectations,  
And so soon dash 'em all again to nothing?  
Away then Syren-Traytor;  Tarp. 
Would I had never seen him,  
O I love him more than ever:—  [Aside. Cur. 
And is this all you have in charge?  Tarp. 
No my Lord, I bring you news of Love.  Cur. 
The Villain mocks me!  Tarp. 
By all the Gods— kill me if I dissemble—  Cur. 
O Venus, should this be from dear Hersilia!  
Love find your eyes again, but this short minute  
And be hereafter blind for ever, (aside.)— Tell me  
Thou Charming Boy; tell me, my better Genius,  
What is the sweet Intelligence: Speak, while  
A thousand Cupids hovering in the air  
Snatch at thy words, and bear 'em, all perfumed,  
About the Heavens.  Tarp. 
Oh I am ruined now beyond all cure:  
His tender words strike through my very Soul.  [Aside. Cur. 
Will you not speak? Why will you torture me  
With these delays?  Tarp. 
Whither will this tumultuous passion drive me?  
Now I am in, it thrusts me headlong on;  
And bids me stop at nothing:—  [Aside. 
The Love, my Lord, comes from a Roman Lady,  
My unhappy Sister.—  Cur. 
'tis gone again the empty shadow leaves me,  
Thy fortune Curtius laughs at all thy wishes,  
And scorns thy Expectation.—  [Aside. Tarp. 
She saw you Sir, when you was last at Rome.  
You came, she saw you there, and was o'ercome.  
Since as a Captive to your Name and merits,  
She knows no joys, but what must come from you.  
Yet is she Noble born, and for her Beauty  
Natures not in her debt, nor Fortune for estate:  
'Tis she that sent me now to let you know  
All her Command and interest in the City,  
You may dispose of.  Cur. 
Ha, this may be of use to my designs.—  [Aside. 
Must I not know her name?  Tarp. 
When you shall please first to discover, Sir,  
Whether your heart be free of other love.  Cur. 
I am as free as air.— Forgive me truth!  
Forgive me more Divine Hersilia!—  [Aside. 
Now, Sir, her Name?  Tarp. 
Tarpeia.  Cur. 
Her Father has Command o'er the West-Gate,—  Tarp. 
He has, my Lord, and she as his Lieutenant.  Cur. 
This is exceeding lucky,—  [Aside. 
Tell the dear Creature, your adored Sister,  
I am all hers; but know not if I have  
Enough of interest with her to demand  
One real favour.—  Tarp. 
O speak, my Lord, I have a full Commission;  
What e'er I grant, she will confirm with joy.  Cur. 
Be sure of what you say; I may perhaps  
Demand a kindness of too great a value:  
And yet I would not hazard a denial—  Tarp. 
Be bolder Sir, I'm sure you cannot ask  
What she can scruple,—  
Come Sir, what is the mighty trial?  Cur. 
It is indeed a trial of her Love;  
Which if she grants, her passion if as mighty,  
And well deserves my Love, my Life, my Soul—  
But still I'm not assured that she will do't,  
And I can't ask in vain.  Tarp. 
My love grows wild!  
I know not how to blush: O fatal hour—  [Aside. 
By Venus and her Son! By all the Oaths  
Man can invent, you cannot ask that thing—  Cur. 
Hold; I believe you Sir. Now I'll demand  
With confidence; I ask, or rather beg  
That she'd deliver up her Gate  
To my possession—  Tarp. 
You had reason Sir, indeed; so long to question  
Whether it would be granted: Who could suspect  
That your request should be of such a Nature?  
Do Men demand of Maids that would oblige 'em  
Favours like this? How e'er since my engagement  
Has run so high, and her Love, much, much higher,  
It shall be done; with only this condition,  
That when she gives the Gate to you, you then  
Shall give yourself to her, for ever,—  Cur. 
With Justice: O I will Love her, Marry her,  
Adore her, had she no other merits;  
She shall be my everlasting Mistress,—  
Give her from me, loved Youth, this Ring, pledge of  
My heart; and this, this dearer kiss. My Soul's  
On torture till I see Tarpeia,— Hark  
Be this the hour, and this the word.  Whispers. Tarp. 
Enough: I'll cause a Soldier to attend your motion,  
Beyond the Counterscarp, exactly at the minute.  Cur. 
we'll lose no time: I'll go immediately,  
And form a party, and give abroad new orders:—  
Another kiss to my dear Mistress, and then Farewell,—  
I come Hersilia! I am false for you;  
Forgive me sacred Honour.  [Aside. [Exit Curtius. Tarp. 
What have I done?  
Betrayed my City and my Honour too.  
Unhappy answer. But what is the reward?  
The Noble Curtius Love. For his dear sake  
I'd do it o'er again: Betray a hundred Rome's  
As many worlds,— where hast thou lost thyself  
Tarpeia? Is this a Roman mind? O I am ruined!  
Yet since I have begun I must go through,  
And will; the die is cast, what e'er event  
Succeeds, fear now is causeless, or too late.  
Was this to see him once, and only see him?  
Would I had never made this fatel Journey:  
O cursed Female curiosity,  
Thou hast demned half my Sex, and half demned me!  [Exit.  

SCENE II. The Palace.  Hersilia, Portia Cloe, Hers. 
Is my dear Romulus still absent, does he  
Not yet return? Sure he forgets Hersilia:  
I could not be so very long from him.  
Portia, how long is it since my Lord parted?  Port. 
Scarce an hour, Madam.  Hers. 
An hour, O false dissembler!  
It is a day, a year, an age to me.  
How many ages does one hour contain,  
When Lovers part! something sits heavy here;  
O Portia, Cloe, help me to remove it:  
A case of Lead claps round about my heart,  
So cold and heavy. Avert the Omen heaven:  
What means this sudden darkness? Do you not  
Perceive it?  Cloe. 
No Madam, 'tis as light to us as ever.  Hers. 
'tis night then in my eyes; and well it may  
Since they can find no pleasing object here.  
How can I view my Sister drowned in tears?  
Tears that would soften Rocks: How can I hear  
Her tender innocent heart break with more groans  
Than come from a whole Army dying?  
Can I with patience suffer this, and yet  
My Romulus, my only comfort, absent?  Port. 
Be less afflicted, Madam: Why should you make  
Your fate worse than it is, why should you meet  
The evil hour and help it forward, thus?  
Misfortune is too quick in her approaches:—  
Feliciana cannot long continue  
In this condition, and for the King,  
We know, he's prosperous and well, and not  
Far distant.  Hers. 
O Portia, Portia! my ill boding thoughts  
Carry but too much reason—  
I had the other night a fatal dream;  
Which though I slighted then, it now returns  
Fresh to my memory with all its terrors,—  
Methought my Romulus and I wandered alone  
A long a Meadow, near the silver Tiber;  
Millions of flowers, and numberless their colours,  
Both by their odour and delightful object,  
Inviting us to rest on the soft Verdure,  
We sat; and in a wanton emulation,  
Culling the guady treasure of the Mead,  
We decked each other's head and bosom with 'em,  
Mixing for every flower as many kisses.  Cloe. 
Thus far 'tis kind; a mere Elysian dream.  Hers. 
True Cloe: But that which follows dismal—  
The cruel River, envious of our Loves,  
Swelled o'er his banks, with such a sudden flood  
We could not possibly avoid its fury:  
In vain I called for help, in vain I strove  
To save my dear Lords life, as vainly he  
To save my dearer life, despised his own,  
At last, both tired with ineffectual pains,  
We sunk and died Embracing.  Port. 
It has indeed a sad conclusion, Madam,  
But dreams, they say, have a quite different meaning  
From what they promise; we may then conclude  
Much joy from this, because it seems unhappy.  Hers. 
Away, and do not flatter me to ruin.  
There's but one way I know to turn the Omen,  
I'll expiate the fatal dream from my sick fancy.—  
Hast to the Temple, Cloe, bid the Priest  
Prepare the due Lustrations instantly.  [Ex. Cloe. 
When I have cleansed myself of this foul dream  
I'll Sacrifice to all the Genial Powers,  
That favour Nuptial Vow's and virtuous Love,  
For Romulus, myself, and hapless Sister.—  Port. 
Heaven cannot be unheedful of such merits,  
When fair Hersilia prays the Gods must hear,  
Her virtue takes by force what they can give.  Hers. 
Profane impertient, I merit nothing,  
Yet sure they'll hear me, though it only be  
For Romulus, and poor Feliciana,—  
Come Portia, let us follow to the Temple,  [Exeunt.  

SCENE III. A Fort in Rome.  Romulus, Spuruis Tarpeius. Rom. 
I Like your diligence, Tarpeius, well:  
You keep your Forts well Maned, and in good order.  
The Enemy can never force us here.  Tarp. 
I would not live too see that fatal hour,  
When all my faculties of soul and body,  
Should not appear continually employed  
To do my Prince and Country their best service,  Rom. 
Spoke like a worthy Soldier, and true Roman.  
Oh, Tarpeius, how great a loss have I?  
Were it not for my dear Hersilia,  
Who still remains, this world had nothing in it  
Worth a man's living for. My friend! my friend!  Tarp. 
Hostilius?  Rom. 
Who but Hostilius?  Tarp. 
He is not dead?  Rom. 
To me and Rome he is, or rather we  
Are dead without him, he was the very soul  
Of friendship, life of Love, and the true Sun  
Of Noble action. O! he has left us now  
Tarpeius, but in so generous a manner,  
That even his absence speaks more love to me  
Than all the ever dear Remembrance  
Of his past actions, sumned together.— Ha!  
What sudden noise is this?  [A noise without, clashing of Swords, and crying Treason, etc. Enter a Soldier bloody. Sold. 
O save yourself betimes, great Sir; away,  
Or you are lost for ever, the Forts betrayed:  
The out-Guard, corrupted by some treacherous Devil,  
Let in the Enemy, who pouring on us  
With treble numbers, cut to pieces all  
That will not yield to mercy—  Rom. 
Tarpeius!—  Tarp. 
I cannot answer Sir, to your too just  
Suspicions, but I can die to show  
I am no Villain— (Draws—) I abhor their favour.  
And scorn my life, since it is now unuseful  [Is going to fall on his Sword. Rom. 
Hold—  
If you are Loyal as you'd make me think,  
Why should not we two beat a thousand Traitors.  
Second me—  [Draws. Enter Curtius and Soldiers. Cur. 
Romulus here! Fortune thou art too kind!  
I have not only won the stake intended,  
But got a By more worth than all the City,  Rom. 
Stay degenerate, Sabine:  
Base as thou art to gain advantage by  
Unmanly Treason, you have not yet  
Subdued the Fort, while I am here and can  
Command a Sword, you'll find one Romulus'  
More than a hundred narrow souled Plebeians.  Tarp. 
Nor shall my Prince engage or fall alone  
He still has left one Soldier who desires  
No greater Glory than to die thus,  
Fighting by his dear side, for whom he lived.  Cur. 
(To Rom.) I know you have been always brave, and now  
Are desperate: I know you both would die  
Like Soldiers fighting; but you shall not—  
Take 'em alive, and disarm the Madmen,  [To his Soldiers. [They all fight, Rom. and Tarp. are encompassed and disarmed. 
Convey 'em now to stricter Guards, and keep 'em several.  Rom. 
Poor and ignoble! Thou art below a Man:  
I scorn to lose my words on such a Brute.  [Rom. and Tarp. are led off. Cur. 
Be it your Province, Fabius, to acquaint  
The General with our success: Tell him  
That I desire he would be with us quickly:  
Tell him the Cities all alarmed and the  
Streets barricadoed, yet if he lose no time  
there's such confusion, they cannot possibly  
Hold long against us; but delay is fatal—  
Away with speed: Fly—  [Ex. Soldiers. 
Did he not say I am below a Man,  
Poor and ignoble? Is that my Character?  
Too true, alas, I find it,—  
Thou hast too much of reason, Noble Roman.  
Methinks I hate myself, for the vile office.  
And yet I Love Hersilia to madness:  
To gain that mighty prize, I must be deaf:  
To the nice rule of honour, made by fools,  
Thus I must win her or for ever lose her.  Enter Tarpeia in her own Apparel. Tarp. 
My Lord the Fort is now entirely yours, and all  
The Guards secured. Yet still there does remain  
One dear Command that waits for your possession.  Cur. 
Where? Show me the place—  Tarp. 
'Tis no part of the works, but she that did Command 'em.  
Be not so strange my Love, 'tis I, that made  
The Fortress yours, wait to be yours myself.  
Come my brave Conqueror: My greater Mars,  
Receive those Joys from me which Venus gave  
Her God of war, when he arrived at Paphos—  
What means this silence, sure you do not know me.  
I am Tarpeia: She that gave you all  
You now possess in Rome, her Father's Gate,  
Her Father, self, and honour, yet thinks not all  
Too dear to buy your Love,— Sure now you know me.  Cur. 
Yes I do know you, Madam, you have given more  
Than I indeed could hope, and still would more  
Than I desire.  [Coldly. Tarp. 
How, Sir, have you already lost  
The memory of your late vows? Is it so long  
Since you obliged yourself, (if words have force)  
On the condition, which you now possess,  
To make me yours by Marriage? Am not I  
The same Tarpeia still?  Cur. 
You are; but I  
Not the same Curtius. Your beauty is your blemish,  
And what you urge for merit shows you foul,  
I cannot love a Traitress.  Tarp. 
Let me hear this from Rome, and from my Father,  
From you it is inhuman! I could endure your Sword  
With better ease, kill me, and expiate thus  
The Crime of too much Love.  Cur. 
Kill you? I would not be so base to rule  
The world: No, live, live to repent your shame  
But do not think of me, I cannot Love  
And therefore will not marry.  Tarp. 
Thunder is music in my ears to this—  
Thou most unkind yet best beloved of Men  
What have I done to be so soon forgotten?  [Weeps. 
Are my obleigments less by being acted?  
Has some Serene blasted my Maiden beauty?  
Am I grown old o'th' sudden, my eyes dead  
My cheeks all withered, nothing of the Rose  
Left there, but wrinkles?— Come my Lord, I know  
This is not real, you do but try my temper,—  
When will you smile?  Cur. 
I am in earnest, do not torment yourself  
Or me, with further pleading, your words are lost.  Tarp. 
Are neither words nor tears of force to make you kind?  
Look Sir, a Lady kneels, thus low,  
She sues to you, she for whose Love of late,  
The bravest Youth of Rome have sued in vain.  Cur. 
Hersilia, may not this deserve you? who  
But I could have neglected such an object?  [Aside. Tarp. 
Thou Rock! thou more inflexible than destiny!  
Say, cruel man, if it becomes thee well  
To see a Loving Lady kneel so long,  
Any yet— and yet, not raise her.  Cur. 
Pray rise—  Tarp. 
Shall I, to your affection? will you Love me?  Cur. 
No; I cannot.  Tarp. 
Then I will grow a Statue, and kneeling thus  
Be an eternal Monument of your injustice,  Cur. 
Pray leave me, and forget me ever; hence forth  
I will endeavour never to see you more.  Tarp. 
Never to see me more, O perjured man!  
False as the winds and Seas, which every minute  
altars! Thou rude Babarian! A Roman would  
Have sooner died, than thus, have wronged one of my Sex.  Cur. 
This is too much for man to hear unmoved,  
Something within pricks at my heart, I feel  
It made of flesh—  [Aside. Tarp. 
Have I for this betrayed  
My Country, Father, nay by the event, my Prince,  
And made the sweet Hersilia a Widow?  Cur. 
Ha! that name revives me, and clears up all  
The clouds of pity, that begun to gather—  [Aside. 
How long will you torment me? Leave for shame  
To be impertinent, unwelcome Woman.  Tarp. 
Wilt thou not break with this? O heart, too, too  
Enduring.  [Still on the ground and weeping. Enter Tatius. Tat. 
Your Messenger has told me, Curtius,  
Of your success, and how you are successful:  
I like the event, but disaprove the means:  
'Tis base to gain by Treason: But since 'tis done,  
We must not lose the advantage.—  
What Woman's this, and why in such a posture?  Cur. 
Neglect her Sir, she is not worth your knowledge.  Tarp. 
O do me justice, Sir, if you Command  
The Sabines, show yourself fit for rule and do me Justice.  Tat. 
Rise, and now speak with assurance; should your cause,  
Concern myself, I'd do you right severely.  Tarp. 
I am the unhappy Daughter of Tarpeius,  
I need not tell you that he held this Fort,  
Till I betrayed it to this perjured Man,  
Who now denys me his dear purchased Marriage.  Tat. 
Thou hast condemned thyself, unworthy Maid.  
Why should you hope that Faith or Love from him  
Which you denied your Father and your Country!  
A Traitor's Sentence should be your, in Justice  
'Tis mercy lets you live, and gives you freedom—  
Show me the works, and then to Romulus.  [To Curtius. [Exit Tatius, Curtius. Tarp. 
Slighted, despised, unpityed, and is this  
All the reward the Sabines give for treason?  
O cursed deceiver, cursed be the hour I saw him;  
And cursed be I for seeing! O damned, damned Love  
That found out such a Villain! but this is idle;  
So are all words; blood and revenge inspire me,  
Something I'll do to cleanse my sullied name,  
Or with my life lose all the the sense of shame.  [Exit.   

ACT. IU.  

SCENE I. A Prison.  Romulus' Solus. 
THE world and I should be at even terms,  
Weary of one another, wear it not for  
My dear Hersilia: While she is here  
I cannot think of dying: My Heaven's in Rome.  
'Tis she that holds my hand, and bids me live,  
Or else I'll quickly give myself the freedom,  
Which these false Sabines have denied me.— Ha!  
Do I dream waking? Or am I really asleep  
And fancy this fair vision, like Hersilia?  Enter Hersilia. Hers. 
My dearest Lord! are you not much surprised,  [Embracing. Rom. 
Extremely, almost as much surprised as pleased,  Hers. 
Ill news has wings: I soon heard this misfortune.  
'twas death to me to be a minute from you.  
Attended by one Servant only, I flew hither,  
Some small acquaintance, and a greater bride  
Opened the Guard, and once again I see  
My Romulus, my life! but time admits  
Few words, you shall not dwell in this Confinement:  Rom. 
Had you the Prison keys, I know I should not.  Hers. 
Let us retire, and change our habits quickly:  
You shall return in mine, and leave me here.  Rom. 
Never till now could I deny Hersilia;  
I must not now obey you, Sweet; nor Love,  
Nor honour will permit it, No, I will die  
A thousand deaths, a thousand several ways  
Sooner than leave you here.  Hers. 
I beg it.  Rom. 
O do not beg that I should Love you less,  
Ask not so much injustice.  Enter Tatius, Curtius. Tat. 
Did you not say he was alone, how came  
This Woman with him?  [To Curtius. Cur. 
Ha! Hersilia? I am amazed.  [Aside. Tat. 
My Daughter here! Heavens, I am more successful,  
Than I expected,— Curtius the war is ended  
Nothing remains but Execution now,  
In those two Criminals.— Do you not feel  
A terror at my sight, can I appear  
Less frightful, than your evil genius to ye!  
Have you forgot the injured Tatius, or  
The Crime which you so late committed?  Rom. 
I never knew what terror was; less now  
Than ever,—  
If it becomes you to insult on this  
Base gained advantage, it does not me to fear.  Tat. 
It lest of all becomes a Man of Honour,  
To do like Romulus; Ravish invited Maids,  
And then outbrave the Justice, that attends,  
The foul, false, treacherous act.  Rom. 
Speak better of such acts since they are yours.  
You had not now been here, nor I compelled  
To hear such Language, were it not for Treason.  
Tho you, I see, have lost your temper, Sir,  
I must not lose the due respect I owe  
Hersilia's Father, else I should tell you  
How falsely that it called a Rape, which was  
Consent, free and without Compulsion.  Tat. 
That which you call consent, does not at all  
Make you less guilty, but my Daughter more.  
It shows her to have been Confederate  
In her own Rape, a party in the Crime,  
Equally guilty with her Ravisher:  
And since by nature's Law the Parent has  
An absolute Dominion, o'er his issue,  
How could she give herself away to any,  
And not rob me? this is your Sentence then,  
(And were you both as dear to me as my two eyes,  
I would not bate the rigour, of true Justice)  
Since you have both been actors in a Crime  
Abhorred by Nature, ye shall both die together.  
You for your Rape, You for your Disobedience.  Hers. 
Both die, O cruel Father! Sir, I yield  
To your just sentence on your Daughter: I know  
I have offended: much, much offended,  
In daring to bestow my Love without  
Your knowledge; nay, where I knew you hated.  
I'm very guilty, Sir, and over me,  
I know, you have the power of life and death,  
Use it freely. You have condemned me justly,  
But on my kees I beg, that I alone,  
May die, and not the noble Romulus.  
'T was I that moved him to the Rape you mention.  
Who would refuse a Ladies offered Love?  
Besides consider, Sir, he is a Prince,  
At least, your equal, his life's not in your power:  
The Law of Arms allows him to be ransomed.  Rom. 
Hear this you Goddesses, and take Example  
From a weak mortals Love! thou Miracle,  
Of Conjugal affection, why should you injure  
Your own innocence so highly, and all  
To favour one, who ought not to be pitied,  
Since he has been the occasion of your ruin?—  
'Tis I, great Sir, 'tis I am only guilty;  
Take in my blood your full revenge, but spare  
The innocent; I gladly yield to death,  
I'll quit you too from all aspersion,  
I'll say you are not cruel, not unjust,  
If she may live—  Tat. 
My Sentence is irrevocable,  
And you have both confessed enough to clear  
Me of injustice: You shall both die.  Rom. 
Spare your own blood, Sir, Tigers will not prey  
On their own young one's; let it not be said  
By mourning Lovers, who shall hear this story.  
Hersilia, sweet Hersilia had no fault.  
But that she was the inhuman Tatius Daughter.  Hers. 
O plead no more for me my d earest Husband,  
If you must die I will not live, without you.  
'Twere cruelty to think it,— (To Tatius) Sir, I beseech you,  
Regard not what he says, if when he dies  
You will be so unkind to spare my life,  
I can find ways enough to follow him:  
Should you be still more cruel, and prevent me,  
Yet grief would quickly break my heart, in pity.  Tat. 
It shall not need:— No, you shall die together.  
Trust me I am afflicted for you both,  
But I must grieve in silence; sacred Justice  
Is far more dear to me than my own life:—  
See the effects of Rash, unthinking Love!  
Take your eternal farewell of each other  
This hour is yours, the next you are no more.  
Curtius attend me.  [Exeunt Tat. Cur. [Romulus and Hersilia remain silent a while. Rom. 
Tatius, (I cannot say your Father) Madam,  
Permits me the sad favour, ere we part,  
To take my everlasting farewell of you.  
But with what face can I approach Hersilia?  
Or with what eye can she behold the wretch  
Unto whose fatal Love she owes her ruin?  
O had you rather chosen a poor Cottage,  
Than my unhappy Palace, a Sabine Shepherd  
Before the King of Rome, you had not then  
Known this sad change, nor I the sense of such  
A guilt, that wracks my very Soul to pieces.  Hers. 
How long has Romulus lost that great Soul,  
Which he received from a Celestial Father?  
For yielding thus to fate, sure he has lost it.  
Unduly should we use, my dearest Lord,  
Those small remains of life, that still are left us  
By such ill timed complaints, as these, to whet  
That grief, which has but too much edge already.  
What have I done, that you should think I value  
This severe turn of fortune, when compared  
To your dear Love? O banish the false thought.  
My passion sees in you something more great  
Than Crowns, something above the power of fate:  
'Tis Romulus I Love, and not Dominion.  Rom. 
Ye Gods! why should I live beyond this moment?  
Let me die pleased, now, now, before her feet,  
From whom I hear such words. When I consider  
The never equalled Love of my Hersilia,  
And what I lose, rage and despair possess me.  
What man can think that so Divine a Soul  
Must leave that fair abode, unjustly too,  
And in his heart at the same time not feel,  
Compassion sharper than the Tyrant's Steel?  Hers. 
Why should you be concerned, where I am not?  
I kiss my Sentence, whatsoever it be,  
To live or die, it is the same thing to me.  
Should I appear to weep, Judge when I do;  
Whether those tears fall for myself or you.  Rom. 
No more, my Love; O spare a breaking heart,  
You pierce my Soul in the most tender part.  
O rather flatter my credulity,  
Tell me to save your life, that I must die:  
If at that price your safety could be bought,  
How blessed were I! there's Heaven in such a thought?  Hers. 
My Romulus is in his Love fevere,  
He'd be a God alone, and leave me here;  
Much kinder was my Father in that breath  
That spoke our fate; he Married us in death.  
O happy, happy Sentence! when we die,  
With equal pace, we'll both ascend the sky:  
While, as we mount, Mortals, that see the Ray  
Of our United flames outshine the day,  
Shall call us happy Lovers, envy us,  
And think no joys of Love like dying thus.  Rom. 
The Gods, the Gods invite us up, I know:  
Something within me says it must be so.  
Let us make haste my Love, and leave behind  
The names to which this world as been unkind:  
I will be thy Quirinus, thou shalt be  
Heber, the ever fair, and young to me.  
When seated in our new Celestial state,  
How we shall smile at Tatius and his hate.  
All Romans with our favours we will bless,  
But be most kind to Lovers in distress.  Hers. 
No mournful youth in vain shall shed a tear,  
No hapless Maid shall sigh, but we will hear.  Rom. 
We'll ease their inward wounds, heal their despair,  
And against fate fight for the brave and fair.  Hers. 
But where a matchless pair of Lous I find  
Wronged by a Parent, cruelly unkind,  
I'll her Hersilia call, him Romulus:  
We needs must favour them, for they are us.  Rom. 
We wrong ourselves, and all our joys delay,  
Let's seek out death, and meet fate half the way.  Hers. 
Come my dear Lord—  [Taking his hand. 
Thus Joined we'll rise to a Divinity,  
'Tis death to live, when 'tis so sweet to die.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II. Scene the Palace in Rome. A Couch.  Cornelia, Cloe. Cloe. 
WHat's to be done, Cornelia? We are left  
Methinks like travellers, that lose their guides,  
Unknowing both the Language and the Country:  
Romulus they have made Captive, Hersilia  
Will have no Liberty without him, but gives herself  
To the same Prison freely; yet should I tell  
Her Sister this, it would but more undo her.  Cor. 
Poor Lady! since Hostilius went from Rome,  
She is no longer she, we have lost her too.  Cloe. 
I have a Captain, my most obedient servant,  
Tho I confess he does me little service,  
He being now continually on duty,  
I'd be content to lose my man for ever  
Could I but bring Hostilius back to give  
The harmless Maid her pretty wits again.  Cor. 
In an ill hour the Romans have committed  
That which our Parents call a Rape, if thus  
Our, men themselves so soon are Ravished from us.  Cloe. 
But who Ravished Hostilius? Nothing but his own  
Heroic Friendship, a shame take these Honourable intrigues,  
They cause more harm than good, all our misfortunes  
Are owing to his absence,  Cor. 
Cloe, no more—  
See where she comes with such a pitied air,  
In her distracted innocence, that makes me weep to see her.  Enter Feliciana. Feli. 
Why did you tell me, Cornelia, that my Sister  
Is rid away behind Hostilius? Indeed you are to blame,  
For though I know, he does not love me, I'm sure  
Hersilia would not do it for a kingdom.  
Yet were it true, could you be so unkind  
To tell it me?  Cor. 
I never said it, Madam.  Feli. 
I ask your pardon heartily, Cornelia:  
It was not you indeed.— See where my Sister  
Stands yonder, sorting pretty Pinks, and Daisies,  
With Violets and yellow Crocus',  
To make a wedding Garland for Hostilius,  
Yet will not give me one poor flower among 'em.  
No matter, I have Roses of my own  
Enough to strew me when I'm dead.  

SINGS.  
White as the Lily will she lie  
When the foolish Maid shall die,  
For she carried with her, her Viginity:  
O fie, O fie.   
— Is not that Cloe?  Cor. 
Yes Madam.  Feli. 
Then it is not my Sister, I knew so much  
Already, though you think I know nothing.  Cloe. 
When will you try to sleep dear Madam!  Feli. 
O Cloe I shall never sleep again.  
Hostilius will not let me sleep, lest I  
Should dream of him— Is not that unkind?  Cor. 
Pray try what charms there are in Music, Madam.  Feli. 
Let it be mournful then, for should they play  
A Cheerful air, and I so merry as I am,  
Twoved make me mad— ha, ha, ha, ha,—  
But 'tis no matter, I'll sit down here and weep.  [Soft Music. 
No more, I hate these Viols: Hostilius is a Soldier  
Let me hear voices: Sing a Trumpet to me.  [To a Martial Air. 

SONG.  
Make haste fair Queen of Cyprus, tarry not:  
Have-you the impatient Love of Mars forgot?  
He bleeds, he bleeds, from wounds unseen,  
That know no cure but such a Queen.  
You are the only Surgeon has the art  
To cure a God ' that's wounded in the heart.  
See, the fair Queen of Cyprus does appear,  
While all the withered beauties of the year  
Start up and smile, to feel her bring,  
Something more welcome than the Spring.  
The Rose and jessamine, perfume the air,  
Yet do her Garlands take their sweetness from her hair.  
She comes, she comes, she comes a Lover's pace  
With all the smiles of Heaven in her face.   

Chorus.  
Why should not than the brave be fortunate?  
Why should the fair be hapless in their Love?  
When the Celestial powers that rule their fate  
Keep such a kind intelligence above?   Feli. 
Fetch me a Roman Pile, and Sabine Shield,  
I'll after the ungrateful Runegade,  [Starting up. 
And force him back to duty— alas, alas,  
Laugh at me good Cornelia, prithee laugh.  
Can I force him whom mighty Cupid could not?  
I saw the little God shoot all his Arrows at him,  
And still Hostilius fenced, and fenced, and fenced  
'Em all away; and still as they came,  
He filched them all into his own Quiver.  
At last the boy sat down and wept for having lost  
His Arrows: But what did I?  
I went up boldly to the pretty Child,  
And stroked him thus; be comforted said I,  [Strokes Cor. 
I'll give thee new Artillery, sweet infant:  
I'll give my boy a Quiver full of sighs.  
At this the Urchin smiled: Ah! foolish Girl, said he,  
Sighs are indeed sort of Arrows, but they  
Can only wound her breast that shoots 'em.  Cor. and Cloe. 
Dear Madam try to sleep once more.  Feli. 
I will, I will, I will, I will,—  [Sits down again. 
But than you must not sing another Trumpet;  
I hate the thought of war, Hostilius is  
Too much a Soldier! Sing any thing but that,  
And I will try to sleep in earnest.  

SONG.  
Where art thou God of dreams; for whose soft chain  
The best of Mankind ever do complain;  
Since they affect to be thy Captives before Liberty  
Unkind and disobliging Deity!  
He flies from Princes and from Lovers Eyes  
Yet every night with the poor Shepherd lies?   

II.  
Show thyself now a God, and take some care  
Of the distressed Innocent and fair.  
To rest, to rest, dispose the pitied Maid, her eyelids close  
Gently, as evening dews shut up the Rose:  
Then bear in silent whispers to her ear  
Such pleasing words as Virgins love to hear.   Cloe. 
She sleeps, she sleeps, Cornelia! Happy minute.  
Let us withdraw, for fear we should disturb  
The blessed slumber.  [They come forward, and the Scene shuts upon Feliciana. Cloe. 
But while our care's employed her for Feliciana,  
We must not lose the memory of Hersilia.  
We are obliged in Honour to find some means  
To free the Noble Lovers.  Cor. 
Poor Cloe, what are we weak helpless Maids  
To attempt so brave and act, when all the force  
In Rome can hardly, hope to do it?  Enter Portia, weeping. Port. 
If you have any tears in store, now, now  
Is the sad fatal hour arrived to spend 'em,  
If you have eyes, show it, and weep, for mine  
Already are quite lost in sorrows—  
The Noble Romulus, and his Hersilia,  
That Glorious pair of Captives, are by Tatius  
(O cruel Sabine, O scandal of our Nation)  
Sentenced to death, and now the cursed minute  
Comes on apace, when the inhuman Sentence  
Must have a more inhuman Execution.  Cloe. 
So sad a tale, as this, though but a fiction,  
Cannot be heard without some tears?  [Weeps. 
For sure, my Portia, you but dissemble with us,  
Or if you be in earnest, yet Tatius, is not:  
He cannot be so barbarous.  Port. 
Oh never hope it, he is grown a Monster:  
Justice the best of virtues is in him  
The worst of vices, since he can act  
A cruelty like this, and call it Justice.  Cloe. 
And is this true? Happy Feliciana,  
Whose want of sense secures her from this new sorrow:  
Would I too were distracted.  Cor. 
I will not be so vain to wish, where I  
Can rule my fate: I'll die with my dear Lady:  
I need no other Tyrant than my grief,  
Sorrow shall do the part of Tatius to me.  Port. 
I love my Queen as much as any can;  
I could endure a thousand prisons for her;  
Suffer a thousand sorrows, nay I could wish,  
Wish heartily, that I were dead to save her.  
But when I think I am a dying,—  
Oh how I tremble: death is a thing of such  
An ugly form, so old, and full of horror,  
It never can agree with a young Virgin's fancy.  Cloe. 
How poor a thing it is to be a woman;  
Ah helpless sex! we have desires, yet still  
Want power to act them. Come my sad Companions,  
Let us all try to melt away in tears:  
In such a death no frightful shape appears,  
Insensibly we shall be eased from care,  
As Echo once, in sighs dissolved to air.  [Exeunt  

SCENE III. The Street.  Enter Hostilius. Host. 
I Cannot go out of the sight of Rome,  
How long have I been wandering to no pupose?  
Like strangers straying in a wood, I think  
To Travel forward, but am indeed  
Brought back, insensibly to my first station.  
Sure something is forgot; should not I see  
Hersilia, ere I part? It must be so,  
Goodmanners say I should. O I dare not  
To see her, O to stay for ever here  
And lose my generous thought; my boasted friendship.  
No, I will on: I'll spur my testy Nature,  
And make the dull Jade travel forward, forward;  
It is a glorious journey, and I will go.  [Exit. Enter Tarpeia, in Man's Apparel, but different from the former. Tarp. 
'Tis requisite, I should redeem my honour  
In the same garb I lost it; my design,  
Is much too Masculine for my own habit.  
O Curtius, Curtius, that I could remove thee  
From Rome, and from the world, with as much ease  
As from Tarpeia's, much abused affection.  
But let it be: The greater difficulty,  
The greater glory. Wert thou armed with thunder,  
Fenced with a wall of Adamant, and Seas  
Deeper and fiercer, than the Adriatic,  
I'd find a way to thy perfidious heart;  
And tell thee there what's due from injured Love.  Enter Hostilius. Host. 
How much in vain do we resolve to act  
What fate forbids? The Gods have drawn a line,  
And though I strain and summon all my powers,  
They hold me back; and laugh at my endeavours:  
I must not, cannot pass the fatal limits.  
Rome I am thine again! The Gods that bring me here  
Let them preserve my Honour.  Tarp. 
Now fortune, if thou art a Goddess, help me.  
Honour, if thou art more than a bare name,  
Assist me, since I act not for revenge  
Alone, but Romulus my injured King.  Host. 
Ha! did not that boy name Romulus? I cannot  
Hear that dear name, but I must wish to see him—  
You mentioned, Youth, the King: Is he this way?  Tarp. 
Where has the brave Hostilius been to ask  
That question? Can Romulus be a Captive,  
And he, his nearest friend, not know it?  Host. 
What do I hear? Speak out thou fatal Messenger  
Of killing news; delay me not with questions,  
But answer mine directly. Where is my King, My Romulus?  Tarp. 
In the West-Tower, a Captive there to Tatius.  Host. 
Was this the cause I could not go from Rome?  
Was it for this my steps forsook my conduct,  
And erring right, have wandered back again?  
O sacred Providence, I now adore thee!—  
Admire not boy, that I'm a stranger here,  
I have been absent, a Truant from the City;  
And now returning, yet for a private reason  
I've shunned the sight and speech of all I met.—  
But one word more for I am called to action  
How has this news agreed with fair Hersilia?  
And where is she?  Tarp. 
A Prisoner with her Husband.  
Freely she gave herself to the same fetters.  
She loved too well to be at large without him:  Host. 
And is the sweet Hersilia too a Captive?  
What Romulus, and his Hersilia too!  
Fortune invites me to the greatest Glory,  
To Sacrifice my life, or free at once,  
The two most loved by me of all Mankind.  Tarp. (Aside.) 
I've ruined my own project; O! he'll prevent me,  
And I shall never get again my honour,  
Nor give a due revenge to injured Love,  
Should I be thus defeated. (To Hostilius,) However, though  
Affairs are very desperate, yet I  
Have formed a way to free the Noble Lovers:  
I beg the brave Hostilius would permit it.  Host. 
Heavens! This is another Rival: Hersilia's beauty  
Makes all Mankind, of every age, adorers.  
How fate has spited me? although I know  
He loves my Mistress, yet such a Rival Child  
Is much below my notice.—  [Aside. 
Thou form a way to free 'em,— alas, poor boy!  
Who owns this straggling Child?—  
Thou free the Noble Lover's: What dar'st thou do to free 'em?  Tarp. 
Sir, though I think, I dare as much as any,  
Encounter fire and water, fight against all  
The Elements, endure a thousand wounds,  
And every wound, a several death; yet what  
I have designed is not to be effected  
By over daring, but by address and wit.  
Force is too desperate, my way is sure,  
If you, not ruin all by acting rashly.  
Suffer me then to act alone, I beg it:  
The Honour, Sir, of my whole life's concerned.  Host. 
His honour? 'tis so, aye he must love Hersilia,  
He could not else be so concerned and earnest.—  [Aside. 
Thy Honour Boy! what's that, who ever heard  
Of a Boys Honour?  Tarp. 
My Love, my life, and my revenge will suffer.  Host. 
His Love, Horror!  [Aside. 
It is an impudent request, that I  [Too Tarp. 
Should stand unactive in a cause like this.—  
Thy honour suffer! Damn it: Mine will more▪  
As infinitely more,  
As there is difference 'twixt my Love and thine.  
Go poor effeminate Creature, use thy ways  
Of fraud and treachery, fit for boys or women.  
I'll be a Man, and force the prison open.  [Exit. Tarp. 
He'll ruin my design infallibly,  
Unless I give it speedy Execution:  
I must effect it then, while he is drawing  
A party up for the assault, or never.  
He must lose time, but I can't spare one minute.  
Fortune assist me: Revenge and hate inspire me.  [Exit.  

Scena ultima, The Fort.  Enter Curtius and Tarpeius. Cur. 
I've opened all my heart Tarpeius to you,  
Because I know your interest with Romulus:  
You can prevail with him: You see what power  
I have to make my offers good.— Tatius  
Has given this Fort to me, and I have here  
An absolute Command, since he returned back to the Camp.  Tarp. 
You have indeed made me a large Confession,  
But I'm not sure I understand you right,  
I think you say you love the fair Hersilia;  
And as a means to gain her wrought this war,  
And got my Fort by Treason.—  Cur. 
True.  Tarp. 
You tell me, she and Romulus are both  
To die, Condemned by Tatius for the Rape;  
But notwithstanding, if I'll prevail with him  
To quit Hersilia to your love, you'll give  
Him Liberty, and me my Fort again.—  Cur. 
Most willingly.  Tarp. 
I think you said you never loved the Treason  
But for Hersilia's sake. That 'twas my Daughter  
Betrayed the Gate, for which alone you hate her,  
And fain would give it back on these conditions—  Cur. 
Most true.  Tarp. 
No, hate my Daughter still, hate her as much  
As I do; It is the only act of all thy Life,  
That shows thee good or brave: Know thou most vile  
Of all the Sabines, that the King of Rome  
Has not so poor Soul, but he had rather  
Lose twenty thousands lives, than but one thought  
(The least of all his thoughts) for his Hersilia.  Cur. 
And will you not persuade him?  Tarp. 
Yes: Where he not already fixed I would  
Persuade him, and use all means, all Arguments  
To settle him in such a Resolution.—  
'Tis well for thee, I am thy Prisoner, Curtius:  
Had I my Liberty, and Sword again  
I'd answer in another phrase, and tell  
Thy heart, what 'tis to tempt a Roman to  
So base an action.  Cur. 
Are you so brave; Ho there without; who waits  Enter Guard 
Take him and guard him strictly, on your lives  
Let him not speak to any, nor be seen.  [Exeunt Guard and Tarp. 
I'm at a loss, my best design is blasted,  
Yet I'll not give it o'er, Hersilia's Love  
Has joys enough to recompense, a thousand crosses.  Enter a Soldier and Tarpeia. Sol. 
Yonder's my Captain, Sir, at leisure too,  
But you must leave your Sword with me.  Tarp. 
Take it.—  [Gives her Sword. 
Hail to the Noble Curtius, if you be he?  
I have affiars that touch you very nearly.  Cur. 
I am the man, if they concern my life;  
Speak boldly.  Tarp. 
They do, and what's more near, your love.  Cur. 
Speak softly, Boy. The very name of love  
Hath something in't so sacred, it requires  
A private ear and ought not to be heard  
By any unconcerned; the profane vulgar.  
Withdraw, and suffer none whoever, to  [To the Soldier. 
Approach this way, till I give notice.  [Ex. Sold. Tarp. 
It is indeed a mighty secret Sir,  
And we can't be too private.  Cur. 
True Boy,—  [Locks the door. 
Now speak.  Tarp. 
I am sent hither from the famed Sibylla—  Cur. 
About my Love? Ay, Ay, I do not doubt it.  
'Tis such a strong and violent passion, Boy,  
The Gods may well take notice of it.  
What says the Prophetess? Did she not name  
Hersilia in the Message? If she did not,  
O never speak it to me; all other words  
Are discords in my ear.  Tarp. 
She did, she did,  
She named the sweet Hersilia often,  
And said,— But first, see my Credentials, Curtius.—  
Look Sir, this is her hand, and this; no, this—  She gives him a Letter, and as he is opening it to read, she comes up, and looking over his left Shoulder, as if she would instruct him in something, whips out his Sword. 
Turn hither Monster, and behold thy Hell,  
Before you feel the flames,— I am Tarpeia.—  
Nay stir not, or by all the Gods, and all  
The Devils, like thyself, I'll nail thee to  
The ground: though I am a Woman, yet I am  
Inspired with all the force and fury now of twenty men.  Cur. 
It is the very she;  
What a dull beast was I not to suspect  
That face! my Love transported me to ruin.  [Aside. Tarp. 
Tremble, and hear me thou inhuman Villain.  
I come prepared to take a full revenge  
For all my slighted Love, my ruined honour,  
For Romulus, my Country, and my Father.  
I value not my life, when I have thine  
I'll give mine freely up to any torment.  Cur. 
How have I wronged you, Madam? You know too well,  
Our passion's not at our own choice, if fate  
Has pointed your love this way, mine to another,  
It is your fate has wronged you, and not I.  Tarp. 
Unheard of impudence! face of a Devil!  
Can you say this to me? To me who have  
Betrayed my King, my Country, Father, All,  
For thou perfidious wretch? 'Tis not thy Love  
I value now, but seek for my lost honour:—  
Didst thou not swear, thy Love was free? and by  
That specious bait tempt me to be a Devil?  
Give me my faith again I owe my Country:  
Give me again my Innocence, false man,  
Make me no traitor.— O it can not be!  
My names all over sullied, black, black, as Hell,—  
But I will wash it in thy blood: I'll search  
The fountain of thy veins, suck thy heart's blood,  
Then knaw the flesh into a thousand pieces,  
And grieve the diet will not last for ever.  Cur. 
Where are my Guards? O that they knew my danger!  
Will no kind Demon tell 'em.— Ho! without.  Tarp. 
Nay if you open, Hellhound, then have at thee.  [Makes at him, he strives to defend himself, but is wounded. Cur. 
Yet spare my life and I will pardon all.  
I'll Love thee too, give back the Fort and Prisoners.  Tarp. 
Abhorred Creature! no: I now hate more  
Than I e'er loved, though I loved more than any.  
Wert thou more suppliant at my feet, than I  
Too lately was at thine, I'd spurn at thy  
Petitions, thus; and be more cruel,  
If it were possible, than thou were't, Devil.  
As for the Fort, I'll quickly take that back.  
But first thy life.—  [Assaults him again. Guard. 
To Arms, to Arms: Where are you Curtius?  [Without: 
Captain to Arms, to Arms, we are surprised.  [Knocking. Cur. 
Make haste and break the door.  Tarp. 
I'll open first a door to thy false heart.  
[Curtius closes Tarp. and as they are striving, the Guard enter.  Guard. 
Ha! Curtius, unarmed and wounded? See the young Traitor.  
Oh Murderous Villain!—  [The Guard wound Tarp. Cur. 
Forbear, it is a Woman,—  [Curtius disarms her. Guard. 
O Sir, the Forts in danger,— the Romans headed  
By their Hostilius, pour like a torrent on us.  
We want your Countenance and conduct.  Cur. 
I am much wounded, but I think none mortal:  
On to the danger,—  [To Tarp, as he goes off. 
Despised thing, false both to Rome and me,  
Make use of these few minutes I'll but secure  
My Guard, at my return expect  
The due reward which all thy Treason's Merit.  [Ex. Cur. cum suis Tarp. 
Yes, I will use the time— I bleed: 'tis nothing,  
The sight does but encourage me to action.  
O that I had a Sword! I'll to the assault  
While all is in Confusion, I cannot miss  
A weapon on the place: My Country calls;  
My help, though weak▪ will yet assist her something.  
Could I die fighting for her, I were happy.  
When life's a burden, all our fortune cross,  
To lose it Nobly then; how sweet's the loss?  [Exit.   

ACT. V.  

SCENE I. The Fort  Hostilius, Soldiers, Tarpeia. Host. 
THE Fort is ours again: But we have strangely  
Missed the Commander.  Sol. 
Sabinus Curtius, Sir, when he perceived  
All past Redemption, with some few Officers,  
Forced their way through us, and fled safely over  
To their own Camp: the rest are Prisoners.  Host. 
My little Rival there, and bloody too?  
I see he's more a Man than I expected,  [Aside. 
Know you that Boy?  [To the Soldier. Sol. 
I found him, Sir, amidst the thickest danger,  
Fighting on our side, fiercely, till spent with loss  
Of blood, a rough old Sabine, had seized  
And would have kill the fainting Youth, when I  
Stepped in and saved him.  Host. 
It was well done, and I'll reward you for it:  
All favour's due to such an early Courage.—  
Thou art a Gallant Boy, and I repent  [Too Tarp. 
I chid thee lately, prithee reveal thy Name,  
That we may know, to whom we give our praises.  Tarp. 
It is not worth your knowledge, brave Hostilius,  
My Name's dishonourable, worse than none,  
Unless I get a Name that's worth the speaking  
I beg to die unknown.—  Sol. 
See Sir, the Royal Prisoners come to meet you,  Enter Romulus, Hersilia, Spu. Tarpeius. Rom. 
Do we see our Hostilius once again?  
I cannot say, in which I am most happy,  
To see my friend restored, or Liberty.—  
O, my Hersilia, now we cannot die;  
This world is too inviting: All our joys  
Return, and we shall now be Gods in Rome.  Host. 
The happiness is mine, blessed am I,  
That I am pointed out to serve my King,  
My best of Friends, and (whom I blush to name,)  
The sweet Hersilia: It is a glorious office!  
The very boys have so much sense of Honour;  
And think it Heaven to die in such a cause.  
This youth endeavoured it as well as I.  [Pointing to Tarp. Sp. Tarp. 
Ha! my Daughter in disguise! O thou shame  
Of Roman Maids. Take this reward of Treason—  [Draws and runs at her, Hostilius steps between. Host. 
Hold! What means the Madman? Would you reward  
With death, him, who still bleeds from all these wounds  
Received so lately in his Country's quarrel?  Sp. Tarp. 
Persist not in an Error, good Hostilius,  
This is no Boy, but my accursed Daughter,—  
Withhold me not, I have a Parents Right,  
And claim to take her life at my own freedom.  Rom. 
That Argument I never will allow of,  
'Twas used against Hersilia.  Host. 
I am amazed! can any woman have,  
A Soul so Masculine?  Sp. Tarp. 
Say rather, so degenerate, and full of horror,  
Since this is that false Devil that betrayed  
The Fort, her King, and Father, to the Sabines.  Rom. 
This is all Riddle, how could she betray  
Her Prince, who has exposed her life to save him.  
I must examine this more strictly,—  Romulus goes over, and discourses with Tarpeia, and her Father, while Hostilius and Hersilia come forward. Hers. 
Hostilius you have merited from me so highly  
In freeing my dear Lord, from instant death,  
That I should be confounded much, to make  
A due acknowledgement of such a service:  
Did I not know of a reward will please you.  Host. 
I'm stupefied. I know not what to answer.  
I dare not look: I dare not trust, my eyes  
With the dear object.—  [Aside. Hers. 
Do you not mind me Sir, Why do you look  
Another way?— Yours merits are too modest.  Host. 
In vain I guard my eyes: In vain I keep  
That Post secure: My ear, my ear betrays me.—  Aside. 
Too much reward it is already, Madam,  [To Hersilia. 
For me to hear such words from fair Hersilia.  
What man can merit such kind words, and live?  
If I had died in such a cause, as this,  
Perhaps the sweet Hersilia might have then  
Applauded me with better Justice.  Hers. 
No more of this.—  
As soon as we return back to the Palace  
Be you in the Court Garden:  
I'll meet you there in the close Mirtle-walk,  
And then confer, the dear reward I mention.  Host. 
I dare not understand her meaning.—  
Now, now, Hostilius, summon all thy virtue,  
Call all thy Honour to thy help, for all  
Is much too little.—  Rom. 
So brave an act, after so base a Treason  
I never knew the same hand guilty of.  Sp. Tarp. 
I cannot yet receive her for my Daughter,  
The stain of Treason is indelible,  
Nor has she purged her Crime by her late service.  
Since she was bound to that, though she had ne'er  
Offended.— She ought to die.  Rom. 
Spurius Tarpeius, no: You give your Prince  
Dishonourable Counsel. Should I forget  
Her wounds still bleeding? Ingratitude's in me  
Almost as great a blemish as her Treason.  Tarp. 
If you intent me any favour Sir?  
If I have merited in my last action?  
Do as my Father urges. Take my life:  
Since I missed that of Curtius, mine's a Burden,  
A shame, a Torment to me. Had I but  
Recovered my lost Honour: Had not my  
Revenge, my Glory, my intended service  
Been all defeated by Hostilius coming,  
I then could have endured to live,  
Or any fate, life had not been uneasy.—  
If you'll not give me death as a reward?  
If I appear to ask too great a Boon?  
Confer it as a Punishment for Treason.  
If neither way I can have what I beg:  
Sullen, and out of favour with my fortune,  
I'll try to give myself what you deny me.  Hers. 
Will you, Tarpeia, stand to my decission?  Tarp. 
With all my Soul: I'm sure the sweet Hersilia  
Will give me what I ask, a speedy death;  
Since by my act, she and her Romulus  
Were both so very near it.  Hers. 
Then, with my dear Lords leave, this is my Sentence.  
Tarpeia, you shall live: And yet to please you,  
I will inflict a Civil death, you shall,  
During your life, be a devoted Recluse,  
A Vestal, ever serving at the Altar,  
And Sacrifice for us whom you have wronged.  Rom. 
Now to Mount Palatine: Come my Captive Queen,  
And change a Prison, for a Court, Joys taste  
More sweet, when relished by afflictions past  [Ex. Omnes. Preter Tarpeia. Tarpeia alone, two of the Guards at a distance. Tarp. 
A Nun! O no: The thought is worse than death.  
Can I, I who have felt so many fires  
In my own breast, whose heart has burnt so long  
In Love and fury, that I am now all ashes?  
Can I—  
Tamely submit to guard the Vestal Flames?  
Pardon me Goddess; Pardon me Hersilia;  
I have not Soul enough to live at ease.—  
O Earth, Earth, Earth! Take me to your Embraces.  [Lies down. 
Why should I use the air? My Soul's all fled,  
Spent and evaporate in fruitless Passion.  
There's nothing left to poor Tarpeia now  
But a base fordid Lump of worthless mould.  
Colour, that fleeting Summer shade, and all  
That little Beauty I once had, has left me:  
Like a false dream, 'tis vanished in a moment.  
Yet I have still a name remains: Ah, less  
Than nothing! unless it could survive with Glory.  
To cleanse thy spotted name, die then, Tarpeia;  
Nothing but death can give a life to fame.  [Seeing the Guards. 
(Rising) Ha! my Sorrows are betrayed:— Unmannered Villains,  
Do you stay here as Spies upon my action?  [Draws. Guard. 
We wait here, Madam, by the King's Command:  
Our duty is to see you safely lodged  
In Vesta's Temple.—  Tarp. 
Forbear: And know your distance, base Plebeians;  
I have not leisure yet to be Religious.—  
O! I am much oppressed: Too much black blood  [Aside. 
Lies heavy at my heart, and drowns my Spirits.  
But I will give it vent.— Stay, I have here,  
Full on my breast, a Sabine wound imperfect.  
What Curtius Soldiers have begun, I'll finish:  
Through the same Orifice I'll send my steel  
Into that wound which Curtius gave my heart.  
O loved and hated Name! Since he refused  
The Joys of Love, thus I'll remove the pains.  [Falls on her Sword. 1. Guard. 
O she has killed herself! the mad Virago  
Has out done all her former actions, here.  
Call for more help.—  2. Guard. 
Help, there within; Tarpeia bleeds to death!  Enter Tarpeius, Attendants. Sp. Tarp. 
What means this sudden outcry? Ha!  
Is still Tarpeia here? My shame still here? Not yet a Vestal?  1. Guard. 
O Sir, behold your Daughter lies expiring:  
Wild with her discontents, from her own Sword  
She took that death which you so much desired,  
And Romulus denied.  Sp. Tarp. 
She bleeds: Kind Heavens! from her own hand she bleeds.  
O truly Roman! Let me embrace my Daughter:  
I am not now ashamed to be her Father.  [Kneels by her. Tarp. 
Forgive me Sir, the scandal I have given  
Both to my Parents, and my dearer Country.  
I am unworthy to be called a Roman.  
A Roman is no Traitor! A Roman's brave,  
Just, true, and of a mind above Corruption.  
But I have been so false I cannot speak it.  
The Soul of my good name's long since expired,  
And why should I survive?  Sp. Tarp. 
True, true, my lovely Daughter! O thou art now  
In this last ebb of life, more fair than ever.  
Others may think thy former beauty fadeing,  
Languid, and dying-pale as a cropped Lily;  
To me the Roses of thy Cheeks still flourish,  
Fresh as the blooming Spring, sweet as the East:  
These closing eyes are real Jewels now;  
Poetic fury cannot make 'em brighter.  Tar. 
O tell me, Sir, truly, as you are noble.  
Do not dissemble: Have I redeemed my Crime,  
And with my blood cleansed the foul stains of Treason?  Sp. Tar. 
Believe me then,—  
Thou art all white again, my dear Tarpeia;  
This glorious Act restores thy innocence,  
And from this hour, thou art new born to me  
A spotless Roman Virgin.  Tar. 
It is enough! Have I all this for dying?  
O Glory cheaply bought! Come Death, come quickly;  
Come thou, more loved than Curtius; haste to meet me.  
The grim Man hears me. See! he comes; I feel him.  
Farewell: I go in haste; with greater Joy,  
Than love sick Virgins lose their name to Hymen.  
Farewell for ever.  [Dies. Sp. Tar. 
Farewell my shame, and glory!—  [Rising. 
Nature would show itself; it whispers me,  
She was my Daughter; True, but she died bravely.  
I ought not then to shed one tear, but triumph.  
Take up the Body, Soldiers, as one of us;  
For though she were a Virgin, she was martial.  
Such Obsequies as are to Hero's given,  
Shall be my Daughters: A Maid of manly courage:  
A Soul opposed to destiny: Her shame  
Was Love and Life, Revenge and Death her fame.  [Exeunt Omn.  

SCENE II. The Palace.  Portia, Cloe. Por. 
THis welcome news must sure restore her.  Clo. 
I doubt it not at all: Her late sleep too contributes.  Por. 
Where not you present, Cloe, when Cornelia  
Made the Relation to her?  Clo. 
Yes.  Port. 
How did she receive it?  Clo. 
As one of us would a surprising Story,  
When half a sleep: She started, blushed, then asked  
A thousand little questions, to no purpose,  
Then blushed again, and turned away her eyes,  
As conscious and ashamed of her late weakness.  Port. 
These simptoms show returning sense, though slowly,  
And by degrees, as harmless. Virgins wake  
From pleasing dreams.—  Enter Feliciana, Cornelia. Feli. 
O Portia! O my Cloe, witness all  
What here Cornelia tells me. She says Hostilius,  
She says my Sister, too? And not she only,  
But Hostilius are coming hither.—  Port. 
It is most true.  Feli. 
Go you would all deceive me: You tell me Heaven  
Will come to me, and all the upper world  
Stoop to a silly Girl. Fie on you all!  
How can I think it? Go, you are all deceivers.  Cot. 
Look, Madam, trust your eyes.—  Enter Hersilia. Hersi. 
Feliciana! O my long-mist Dear.  [Embracing. Feli. 
O my Sister!  Hersi. 
My haste to see my sweet Feliciana,  
Transported me, and would not let me rest,  
Till thus I settle in her dear embrace.—  
Why are you silent, sweetest! sure some vast joy  
Stifles her words.— What does this mean, Cornelia?  Cor. 
O Madam, since you went, all her fair senses  
Have been as absent, as yourself, and her  
Much loved Hostilius.  Clo. 
No wonder then the way being thus disturbed,  
If her returning Wits appear to wander.  Hersi. 
I'll guide 'em right, for I have joys in store,  
Great, as her past affections. Come with me  [too Fel. 
Sweet innocence! Fortune's not always angry  
She now is pleased again, and bids you too  
Smilelike herself, the happy hours arrived:  
The happy hour, that gives your Sister means  
To pay what she has stood so long engaged for.  
I'll make Hostilius yours: For I can give him.  Fel. 
I dare not trust you.  Her. 
You must: You shall this once, and never after.  
Hast, my Feliciana: Let us fly,  
On the soft wings of Love, to meet Hostilius.  [Exeunt omnes.  

SCENE III. A Garden.  Enter Hostilius. 
THis is the place, and this the time appointed.  
As soon as I arriyed back at the Palace,—  
These were her words.— I'll then and there said she.  
Confer the dear reward I mention.—  
What can that be? but what, it should not be.  
She knows, she knows, I value no reward,  
But only what, she should not give, her Love.  
O Romulus! my friend! how can I think,  
That name, and yet wait here for his dishonour.—  
Yet I am innocent,— I'll back again.  
She is not here: Than why should I expect,  
And do so foul an action, in cold blood?  
No, I will back again:— I cannot go.  
Methinks I should attend a Lady's motion,  
Much more a Queens, a Goddess, such as Hersilia.  
Deceitful Love! O thou false impostor!  
O my my lost friendship! Lost! I will not lose it.  
But one turn more, and I will, will go.  [Exit. Enter Hersilia, and speaks entering. Hers. 
Stand you all out of sight; there at that turning,  
And when I call appear.— I see him yonder,  
Pensive he walks, as if he feared to meet  
What he expects. I know he thinks my Love,  
The promised Recompense, for his past service,  
I'll soon transfer his thoughts to the right object.  
He sees me.  Enter Hostilius. Hers. 
Does not Hostilius wonder to what end  
I meet him thus, and in a place so far  
Removed from sight and interruption?  Host. 
Not at all, Madam: Hersilia cannot have  
A thought unworthy of herself, and Honour:  
(Aside) What a soft charming look has she put on?  
Oh I am ruined!—  Hers. 
I told you Sir, I knew,  
Of a reward that I am sure will please you:  
'tis Love, and such a Love you must not slight.  Host. 
Ay: It is so: My fears, and my desires  
Are joined to make me wretched: I am lost:  
Lost past recovery.  
What Man can stand against such sweet temptation?  [Aside. Hers. 
'Tis from no Common beauty; but one adorned  
With all the advantages of Birth and Fortune,  
Young, witty, noble, innocent, and fair,  
As the first smiles of Summer Mornings are:  
Cheerful as April Suns, fresh as the Spring.—  Host. 
It must be she herself, the Character  
Suits with no other Woman.—  [Aside. Enter Romulus, (unseen.) Rom. 
Ha! my Hersilia, and Horsilius here  
Alone too—  [Stands aside. Hers. 
Such is the Lady that has loved you long,  
Hostilius: She has loved you to excess,  
But hitherto unknown; her flame has lasted  
Silent and to herself, as Lamps in Tombs.—  
I am amazed to see you thus unmoved.  
Can you hear this Intelligence, from me too,  
And give it no more welcome?  Rom. 
What do I hear? What, do I see? I will  
Not trust my senses, they are all deceitful  
No, in despite of my own eye and ear,  
I'll observe on: Down, down, rebellious thought.—  
'Tis false, Hersilia cannot wrong me.  Host. 
These are too quick advances: And less than  
Decent, Methinks, she's not so fair as lately.  
A Cloud is drawing o'er her eye, I see it.  
Now love, where art thou? the Coward Boy's retiring.  
Honour I am all thine.—  [Aside. 
Madam, I must confess, it is a vast  
Reward you offer for a little service.  
So vast, and so surprising is the offer,  
I scarce have sense enough left to refuse it.  
Had your words been less clear, I should not then  
Have dared to know their meaning; But now  
They are so plain, I must not understand 'em.  Hers. 
I am o'erjoyed to find him answer thus.  
I see he thinks it is my Love I offer;  
And by my conduct I have cured his frenzy,  [Aside. 
Extinguished all the Rebel flame for me,  
And made him capable of a new passion.  [Aside. 
— And can you then refuse the Love I bring you?  
Can you, Hostilius, when Hersilia says  
Love and be happy, slight the precious news?  
How have I been deceived? 'Twas falsely said,  
Hostilius honoured, loved, adored Hersilia,  
Since she commends a Lady's Passion to him?  
And yet Hostilius stands as unconcerned.  Rom. 
I'll hear no more: My patience is abused.  
False, False Hersilia.  [Rom. comes forward. Hers. 
My Lord, I have been making Love here.—  Rom. 
And can you own it too? But you 're already  
Too much dissembled. O that I had died  
By Tatius juster sentence; not lived to see  
His Daughter, thus much worse than kill me.  Hers. 
Nay, than 'tis time to disabuse you both—  
Feliciana: Sister! Where are you?  Enter Feliciana and Attendants. 
Look, Hostilius—  
This is the Lady, for whose sake I woe you.  
Has not my Character, short of her Beauty,  
Wronged her, by an imperfect commendation?  
Take her, brave Man, and here bestow that love,  
Which erred to me; nor was your Error lost,  
When you imagined I could wrong my Lord  
But in a thought: 'Twas all designed for this.  Rom. 
How base do I appear! Poor, and unworthy;  
And how divine Hersilia: yet I am pleased.  
Take from my Character ye Gods: Take, take,  
Yet more, and add it all to hers; for she  
Alone merits to be; nay is perfection.  
Let after Age's copy from Hersilia,  
When they would learn what's good, or chaste, or noble.  
But let the name of Romulus be odious,  
Since he could wrong her love by base suspicion.  
Can you forgive?— O I want assurance  
To ask. So much injustice you ought not,  
You must not pardon. Such a Crime as mine  
Exceeds, if it were possible, your Goodness.—  Hers. 
O hold, or I shall doubt with better cause  
Your love, than you did mine. Can Romulus  
Be kind to me, and yet forbid my kindness?  
You speak of pardon, where you ne'er offended.  
My dearest Lord, I'm pleased at your suspicion.  
If (as th'appearance was) you had not been moved,  
Sure you had loved me less.  Rom. 
O wondrous goodness! Miracle of women.  
Can you still love me?  Hers. 
My life, I can, I do!  [Embracing. Host. 
But, Madam, what must I return, for this dear blessing?  
I'm so confounded with the mighty favour,  
I know not where first to bestow my thanks;  
To my sweet Mistress, here, who thought me worthy,  
Or to yourself, who formed my erring heart,  
For such a Heaven,  Hers. 
Pay 'em to her: Only her love deserves them.  
See, Sir, her blushes keep her speechless; but  
That very silence tells you, she merits more  
Than you can pay her.—  Enter a Soldier. Sol. 
To, Arms, to Arms: O! quick, or Rome is lost.  
The Sabines enter at Port janualis  
Led on by Tatius: Curtius too half desperate,  
Since his late loss, fights now with double Courage.  
The Guards give ground apace, and they are near  
Possessed of all that Quarter.  Row. 
A truce with Love Hostilius, we are called  
To bolder actions.—  Host. 
— Were all their Army present  
I have no power to stir, till thus I pay,  
At this soft shrine of Love and innocence  
My first Devotions.  [Kisses Feliciana's hand. 
From this dear touch, I take new life, new Love,  
And thus inspired to certain conquest move.  [Ex. Rom. Host. Feli. 
He's gone: while he was here I had no power  
To speak, to move, or any thing but blush.  
My overflowing joy met every thought,  
And choked my words ere they could reach my tongue.  
My fears, my fears, now give me Elocution.  
O I shall lose your Present Sister. In vain,  
You gave me the brave Man: The cruel Sabines  
Will rob me of Hostilius.  Hers. 
Why should you fear  
Success? have not I made a greater venture,  
My Soul, my Romulus, my All I hazard  
In this engagement.— But if I hazard all  
Why stand I here? Can I be safe, when he,  
My better self's in danger? Cloe, run,  
Gather the Sabine Women in a body:  
Bid 'em all meet with speed at Juno's Temple.—  Feli. 
What means my Sister?  [Exit Cloe. Her. 
I feel unusual joy shoot through my heart:  
Something within me whispers, that as I  
First caused this war, so it is I must end it.  
Swell noble thought, That I may something do  
Worthy a Roman Wife, and Sabine Daughter.  Enter Portia. Port. 
Be happy Madam: Heaven declares for Rome.  
The God's fight for us. When your Romulus  
Found his men flying, and that no persuasions,  
Nor threats, nor his example could prevail,  
To stay the Coward Fugitives, to all  
His friends above, the pious Roman calls,  
And vows a Temple in the place to jove.  
Behold a Miracle! they, who but now  
Fled as so many Hares, turn on the sudden.—  Hers. 
I'm seized with joy and wonder.  Port. 
But this is, Madam, wonderful indeed.  
While the prevailing Sabines bore all before 'em,  
Pursuing fiercely along by janus' Temple,  
A stream of Sulphur flowed more fiercely on 'em,  
From the offended God: Drowning and burning them,  
But giving us more time and means to rally.  Hers. 
Shall the two ever jarring Elements  
Of Fire and Water, lay by their enmity,  
Uniting both their powers for Rome, while I,  
The Wife of Romulus, stand unconcerned?  
No, I will lose my Nature too; cast off  
The fears of Woman, and with a Troop  
Of my own Sex, confront the thickest danger.  
But stay you here, my sweet Feliciana,  
Thy years are much unfit for such a hazard.  Fel. 
Unkind Hersilia! Why should you underrate  
My love, and think it less than yours?  
Young as I am, I dare as much as you.  
For love and my Hostilius, I am all fire:  
And yet I durst not go, were not he there;  
But to meet him, though in a Grave, I dare.  [Exeunt omnes.  

SCENE Ult. The Scene draws, and discovers the Romans and Sabines ready to engage. Drums and Trumpets.  Romulus, Hostilius, Tatius and Curtius come forward. Tat. 
Forbear a while.— Since, Romulus, we meet  
So opportunely, let us two, who have  
The chief concern in this unhappy War,  
Decide the quarrel singly. Why should we  
Profusely cast away a thousand lives  
Harmless and unconcerned? when we may better  
Stake all th'event of war on our own heads.  Rom. 
The offer's just and noble: I accept it.  Tat. 
Give your command then, to your Roman party,  
As I to mine (who I 'em sure will obey me)  
That they remain spectators only, and  
Both sides yield to him that conquers.  Host. 
Sure Tatius, never heard Hostilius named.  
Am I so great a stranger, to your ear?  
Or has report, ne'er mentioned the strict friendship.  
With which the God like Romulus has graced me.  
'Tis time you know it now, if yet you have not.  
I cannot see my King engaged,  
And I unactive.—  Cur. 
— Nor I my General.  
Once more, Hostilius, fortune presents my sword  
To oppose yours; sure now we may decide  
What late we left imperfect.  Host. 
With as much joy as absent Lovers meet.  Tarp. 
Is there not yet one Sabine more that dare  
Contest with me the Justice of this War?  
Must I be so unhappy to stand idle,  
A poor Spectator of brave deeds, and want  
One noble Enemy among so many?  [Two or three Sabines are coming forward io answer. Tat. 
Retire and keep your places.— You see Tarpeius  
Here are enough, that strive for the like honour;  
But since your King agrees to fight me single,  
I'll have no more engaged than are already:  
Hostilius has indeed put in no common claim.  
Or else he too had been refused.  Rom. 
Be not displeased, thou brave and worthy Roman.  
'Tis sit I leave one friend alive, to tell  [Embracing Tarp. 
Posterity, how much I die Hersilia's:  
How much my heart abhorred to live,  
Unless in her: How my last syllable was hers,  
And how my Soul flew in a trembling sigh  
Up with her name to Heaven.  [Tarp. retires. Tat. 
We lose too many minutes; Roman advance,  
And meet me as a Foe implacable.  
Respect me not, as Father to Hersilia,  
Rather than so, I cancel all Relation,  
Quit my Alliance, and disown my blood.  [They all pass. Enter Hersilia, Feliciana, and other Women, who all run in between 'em. Hers. 
Do,— kill us first, and then yourselves. Add this  
To the great List of all your Glorious Acts,  
That you have Murdered all these unarmed Women:  
Where am I now arrived? Is that my Father?  
He is or should be: This I'm sure's my Husband.—  Feli. 
And this to me more dear, than thousand Husbands.  
I'll be Hostilius shield, weak as I am,  
He that wounds him must do it through my breast.  Hers. 
Sir,  [To Tatius Kneeling. Tat. 
Woman away.  Hers. 
Have I no nearer Name?  Tat. 
Hersilia,—  Hers. 
Still that has too much distance: methinks  
I hear my Mother's Soul, from her blessed seat  
Of rest, call out and say, I am your Daughter.  Tat. 
You were; till disobedient Love blotted that name,  
And rendered all my blood degenerate,  Hers. 
— My Lord,—  [To Romulus. Rom. 
My better life! Retire Hersilia.  [Raising her. 
O do not thus expose to the blind Sword,  
A life inestimable: To see you bleed  
Would kill my very Soul. Should I lose you  
I lose a thousand lives, a thousand worlds.  Hers. 
Perish a thousand Worlds, before I see  
My Father kill my Husband; He my Father.  
You both divide my Duty: I live in both,  
And die in either: why should you then endeavour?  
To murder me twice over in yourselves.  
I had rather once in my own person die  
Than twice in yours: Begin, begin with me:  
Take my life he that pleases; take it freely.  
But spare each other.—  Tat. 
These, Romulus, are your security:  
I'll draw my Party off; some other time  
We'll find an hour more masculine and noble,  
When we may act like men, not talk to women.  Hers. 
O stay; for to part thus has something in't  
Worse than my present fears. O hear me Sabines!  
Hear me you noble Romans! If for my sake  
This war was first begun, why for my sake  
May it not now be ended? Am I Hersilia?  
Have I a Father and a Husband here,  
And yet want interest to mediate with you?  
Sure Nature cannot be so far defective;  
I know my Father cannot be obdurate;  
I know it by myself; if he were cruel  
I could not be compassionate and kind:  
No, he was never cruel; 'twas but dissimulation.  
When lately he condemned my Lord and I.  Tat. 
Thus far 'tis true, though I condemned you justly,  
I never meant the threatened Execution.  
Curtius knows it,—  
But what is that to this? We now meet equal,  
And I to vindicate my Right, and Honour.  
Hersilia, give us way; when Kings dispute,  
Swords are their Arguments, Force their persuasion.  Hers. 
No, make your way to him through me.— Yet hold,  
Your Sword is needless, I feel a sharper weapon;  
The thought of your unkindness kills me surer.  [Faints Rom. 
O stay fair Soul! If but one minute longer,  
Stay but to take me with you— No, she's gone!  
Look back Hersilia, I shall soon o'er take you.  [Offers to fall on his Sword. Hostilius holds him. Hersilia recovers. Hers. 
What pleasing voice unkindly calls me back  
From the eternal rest of injured Lovers?  
Sure 'tis my Lord; it must, it must be he;  
No Tongue but his can draw Souls from Heaven.  [Embracing Rom. Tat. 
I am o'ercome. He that can see such Love  
And yet not melt, is not a Man but Devil.  
I yield, O Divine power of Love,  
That can subdue a fury such as mine!  [He Embraces Romulus and Hersilia. 
Be happy in each other, best of Lovers,  
My Daughter, and my Son! I'm doubly blessed;  
Since now in knowing you, I know my blessing.—  
Sheath all your Swords: give the Command abroad,  
That like me, each embrace his Enemy.  [Curtius and Hostilius Embrace, etc. Hers. 
O happy change,  Rom. 
Blessed be Hersilia, ever!  
Since to her Piety we owe this change.  
Never was War so ended!  Host. 
Yet one more blessing, Sir, and we are all happy.  [Too Tat. [Approaching with Feliciana. 
Our hearts are both united: We only want  
Your favour to complete a Glorious Hymen.  Tat. 
This is my second comfort. Take her Hostilius,  
For you deserve her. Thou second Romulus!  
Live, Love, and be as happy as the first.  Cur. 
Tarpeius you alone know my dishonour.  [Aside to Tarp. 
My false, base, Treason, and the Love that caused it:  
My mind is now reformed: I am no more,  
Rival to Romulus, but his admirer.  
When I behold his flame my own expires,  
As brighter Suns put out the lesser fires.  
As you are Noble, then conceal my shame,  
For I repent it much.—  
And I am now prepared by future kindness  
To pay off all that mighty Debt of Love,  
Which I have too long owed to your much injured Daughter.  Sp. Tarp. 
Your Debts discharged, Sabinus, and hers already paid  
To Nature: Tarpeia is no more.  Cur. 
Tarpeia dead? Forbid it Heaven!  Sp. Tarp. 
Unable to endure the sense of such dishonour  
As her unhappy Love contracted, by her own hand  
She washed the spots of Fame in her own blood.  Cur. 
Ah Noble Maid! too brave, and too unhappy!  
Heroes and Demigods shall Celebrate Tarpeia.  
Queens when they'd Name a Maid of mighty Courage,  
And vindicate their Sex above the Male,  
Will say Tarpeia: But most the hapless Lover,  
When he complains of Cross and Cruel Stars,  
Shall weeping mention her sad fate and call it his.  Sp. Tarp. 
Curtius no more: Let us forget our sorrows.  
We injure much our Countries public Joy:  
No Passion now should Reign, but Love and Triumph.  Tat. 
Romans and Sabines are no longer two,  
But the same Nation, now: Where such a Love  
Has showed the way to Rome, we must all follow.  Rom. 
Renowned for ever be this day and place:  
Here for all Ages, let the Roman Tribes,  
Fix their Comitium, for more solemn meetings.  
Here every year let all the blooming Youth,  
And tender Virgins, of our now own people,  
In Songs and Revels Celebrate this day:  
And as a Monument of the late wonder,  
Let janus' Temple, ever open stand  
When Rome has War, the God for us will fally.  
Happy the Nuptials, when two Kingdoms Wed:  
Empire and Crowns spring from that Marriage Bed.  
FINIS.     

EPILOGUE Writ By Mrs. A. Behn.  Spoken by Tarpeia. 
FAir Ladies, pity an unhappy Maid,  
By Fortune, and by faithless Love betrayed.  
Innocent once— I scarce knew how to sin,  
Till that unlucky Devil entering in,  
Did all my Honour, all my Faith undo:  
Love! like Ambition, makes us Rebels too:  
And of all Treasons, mine was most accursed;  
Rebelling 'gainst a King and Father first.  
A Sin, which Heaven nor Man can e'er forgive;  
Nor could I Act it with the face to live.  
My Dagger did my Honour's cause redress;  
But oh! my blushing Ghost must needs confess,  
Had my young Charming Lover faithful been,  
I fear I'd died with unrepented Sin.  
There's nothing can my Reputation save  
With all the True, the Loyal and the Brave;  
Not my Remorse, or Death, can expiate  
With them a Treason 'gainst the KING and State.  
Some Love-sick Maid perhaps, now I am gone,  
(Raging with Love, and by that Love undone;)  
May form some little Argument for me,  
T' excuse my Ingratitude and Treachery.  
Some of the Sparks too, that infect the Pit,  
(Whose Honesty is equal to their Wit,  
And think Rebellion but a petty Crime,  
Can turn to all sides Interest does incline,)  
May cry" I gad I think the Wench is wise;  
" Had it proved Lucky, 'twas, the way to rise.  
" She had a Roman Spirit, that disdains  
" Dull Loyalty, and the yoke of Sovereigns.  
" A Pox of Fathers, and Reproach to come;  
" She was the first and Noblest Whig of Rome.  
But may that Ghost in quiet never rest,  
Who thinks itself with Traitor's Praises blessed.  
FINIS.