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

Scena Quinta.

Horace the Father. Sabina. Camilla.

Horace the Father.

Daughters I must unwelcome news relate; But' twere a vain endeavour to conceal, What will it self, alas! so soon reveal. Your Brothers are engag'd by Heav'ns decree.

Sabina.

I must confess these news astonish me, And I expected from the heav'nly Race, Far less injustice, and far greater grace: But speak no comforts; nor in vain declare How noble souls should their disasters bear▪ Reason it self insufferable grows, When such afflictions it attempts t'oppose. In our own hands, our mischiefs cure we have, And who resolve to dye, mischance may brave. We could perhaps pretend whilst you are by, A fruitless, false, and seeming constancy: But so to counterfeit, and in a time Wherein our frailties licens'd were a crime; We leave that artifice to men; nor care To pass for other than indeed we are; Nor would we have your noble heart abate By our example to complain of Fate.

No! take these ills without emotion; See our tears trickle, but refrain your own. All that we beg in this distress, is that Whilst your brave spirit triumph over fate, We whose weak hearts no griefs conceal'd can keep, May be allow'd, without offence to weep.

Horace the Father.

I am so far from blaming what you do, That I admire I turn not woman too; Nor should perhaps these blows of Fortune bear, Were I concern'd so nearly, as you are. Not that this choice can have the pow'r to make Me hate your Brothers for their Countries sake: Whose noble persons maugre this sad War, Are all of them unto my bosom dear: But friendship is not seated in that row, Nor feels th' effects Love and Relation do. I feel not for them in my breast those woes, You as a Sister, she a Lover does. I can look on them as the foes of Rome, And wish, and pray my Sons may overcome. They (prais'd be Heav'n) worthy their Country are, Astonishment did not their worths impair, And I their honours saw redoubled rise, Whilst they two Camps compassion could despise: Which if it had their frailty overcome, And had their vertue not repell'd it home, This hand should quickly have reveng'd the shame Done by their weak consent unto my name: But since the Camps despight of them would choose Anew, and them in piety refuse; I now confess that to the heav'nly powers, My vows, and pray'rs went along with yours. And would all-pitying Heav'n have heard my voice, Alba had been reduc'd t' another choice. My Sons we then should have triumphant seen, And they from blood so dear unstain'd had been. Then had the Roman names illustrious height Lean'd on th' event of a more humane fight:

But since Heav'ns prudence otherwise does please To order things, I vail to its Decrees. My thoughts in generosity I dress, And in the publick state my happiness. Try you to do as much, t'allay your care, And wisely weigh that you both Romans are. You are become so, and you yet are one, A treasure above all comparison. A day will come, that through the Globe our Rome, Dreadful as killing thunder, shall become. When the world daring at our Eagles Wings, That glorious name shall be the pride of Kings.