Horace, a French tragedy of Monsieur Corneille Englished by Charles Cotton, esq.

Scena Quarta.

Sabina. Camilla.

Sabina.

Sister, amids't these cares, permit my love To chide those griefs I needs must disapprove. What would you do if in my state you were, Had you as much as I t' excuse your fear, And did expect from their too fatal Arms Losses to equal mine, and equal harms?

Camilla.

Oh Sister! speak with judgment, not design, When you would parallel your ills to mine: All people look with a far diff'rent eye▪ On others harms, and those concern them nigh: But mine consider'd right, yours are a dream, A meer illusion, when compar'd with them. You only have Horatio's death to fear, Brothers, compar'd to Husbands, nothing are. When saffron'd Hymen by the Nuptial tye Unites us to another Family, He disengages us from ev'ry claim That once pretended to, from whence we came.

Those diff'rent ties no parallel admit, To follow Husbands, we our Parents quit: But when just going to be made a Spouse, The Servant that a Father's care bestows, Although below a Husband in his claim, Stands yet a Rival with a Brother's name. Those interests our thoughts betwixt them share, Our choice, and vows perplext, and doubtful are. Thus Sister, you at least have in your tears Or what to wish, or what may ease your fears. Whilst I, if Heav'ns hand do not forbear, Have nothing left to hope, but all to fear.

Sabina.

Sister methinks you argu't very ill When Friends so near must one another kill; And we, though th' obligations diff'rent seem, Our Parents leave, without forgetting them. Hymen does not those Characters remove; Nor does it follow that because we love Our Husbands best, we should our Brothers hate. Nature still keeps her Laws inviolate. When we of force must one or th'other lose, At either's life's expence, 'tis hard to choose; Nor know we then which interest is supream: "All ills are equal, when they are extream. And when all's done, this man you so esteem Will only prove, as you shall value him. The least distaste, or jealousie may prove Pow'rful enough to banish him your love. Do that by Reason, may by Chance be done, And leave your blood out of comparison. 'Tis ill to raise up int'rests against those, Our births do of necessity impose. I then if Heav'ns hand do not forbear, Have nothing left to hope, but all to fear: Whilst you have this advantage in your tears; Or what to wish, or what to ease your fears.

Camilla.

Sister I see Love never pierc'd your heart, You know him not, nor ever felt his dart:

We may resist him in his infant state, But when he rules, and sways, 'tis then too late; And chiefly when Fathers allowances Have so oblig'd our Faith by their decrees, Till they have made this little Tyrant reign Over our hearts a lawful Sovereign. Love mildly enters: but by pow'r he sways, And when a soul his bait once swallow'd has, In vain it then attempts to give it o're, It has no more the will it had before. His chains are strong, as bright, and delicate.