Horatius, a Roman tragedie, by Sir William Lower.

HORATIUS: A ROMANE TRAGEDIE.

ACTUS Primus, SCENA Prima.

Sabina Julia.

Sabina.

A Pprove my weakness, and suffer my griefe, It is but too just in so great a misery; such storms as these ready to powr upon them, will shake the stoutest courages; the least dejected masc'line Spirit without disorder can't exercise its Vertue; although mine receive amazement at these rude alarmes, the trouble of my heart can nothing worke upon my teares, and amongst all the sighs it send's to Heaven, my constancy raignes still over mine eyes. When one doth stop the course of the Souls sadness and affliction, though it be less then man, 'tis more then woman: in this extremity to command teares, is to shew strength enough in our weake sex.

Julia.

Enough, and too much for a common Soul, that from the meanest danger doth expect

but one misfortune; a great heart doth scorne such an abasement, it despaires of nothing, though in occurrents doubtful; the two armies stand in battalia before our walls; but Rome knows not yet how to lose a field, we need not fear her, rather lets applaud her; since she goes forth to fight, she goes to conquer: then banish, banish quite so vaine a fear, and conceive brave desires worthy a Romane.

Sabina.

I am a Romane, since my Hushands is so, marriage makes me embrace Romes interest; but it should hold my heart like a chain'd slave, if it did make me to forget the place where I was born. Alba, where I began to breath my first aire, Alba, my deare Country, and my first love, when between us and thee I see the war commenc'd, I feare our Victory as much as our destruction. Rome, if thou complain'st that I am partial herein, fix upon enemies that I may hate: When I see drawn up'fore thy walls both Armies, my three brave Brothers in the one, and my undaunted Husband in the other, can I pray for thee, and without impiety importune Heaven for thy felicity? I know thy State, yet in its infancy, cannot without war fix its puissance: I know it must grow great, and that thy destinies will not at home be bounded with the Latins; I know the Gods have promised to thee the Empire of the Earth and that thou can'st not See th' effect of it, but by the war: so far am I from off'ring to oppose this thirst of Glory, which obeyes so readily the Gods decrees, and posteth to thy greatness, that I would see thy Crowned Troops already pass the Pyrenees, carry thy battalions into the East, plaint thy Pavillions

upon the banks of Rhine, make the proud columns of Hercules to shake under thy feet: But love a town to whom thou owest Romulus: Ingratful, know that from her Kings rich blood thou tak'st thy name, thy walls, and thy first laws: Alba is thy original; stay, and wisely consider that thou carryest the sword into thy Mothers bosome; turn elsewhere the force of thy triumphant armes: her joy will breake forth in her childrens happiness; and overcome with a maternal love, her prayers will be for thee, if thou art not against her.

Julia.

This discourse surpriseth me, since from the time that we first arm'd against her people, I have seen so much indifference in you for her, as if you had been born within our walls: I admired in you the vertue that reduc'd your dearest interests unto your husbands, and did pity you in the mid'st of your plaints, as if our Rome had caused all your fears.

Sabina.

Whil'st they encountered but in light skirmishes, not strong enough to cast each other down; whil'st a glad hope of peace flatter'd my trouble, it is true, I tooke a vanity to be all Romane: if I saw Rome prevail, with some regret I suddenly condemn'd this secret motion; again, if I resented in her contrary success any malignant joy in favour of my three brothers, suddenly to smother it, calling my reason to me, I lamented when Glory entered into their house. But now alas! that one of them must fall, that Alba become slave, or that Rome sinke, and that after the battel there remaine no obstacle more to the conquerours,

nor hope unto the conquered, I should shew an unnatural hate unto my Country, if I could be all Romane yet, and should ask of the Gods your triumph, at the price of so much blood which is so precious to me. I tye me not so strictly to the interest of a man, that I should forget my Country: I'm not for Alba nor am I for Rome; I am afraid for one, and for the other, in this last conflict, and must be of that side which fortune shall afflict; indifferent to both untill the Victory, I will participate the ils without assuming any thing of the glory, and will keep my tears in store for the conquered party, and my hate for the conquerours.

Julia.

How often we see such traverses as these arise▪ in diverse spirits diverse passions! In this Camilla acts clean contrary; her brother is your Husband; yours, her Lover▪ but she sees with an eye far different from yours; her blood in one camp, and her Love in th' other; when you did conserve a spirit all Romane, hers irresolute and fearful, incertain, fear'd the storm of the least mixture, of either party hated the advantage, to the misfortune of the vanquished still gave her plaints, and so she nourished eternal griefes; but yesterday when she understood that the Armies did advance resolved to joyn battaile, on her brow a sudden joy appear'd.

Sabina.

Oh Julia, how I fear so quick a change! Yesterday in her faire and pleasant humour she entertain'd Valerius; without doubt she quits my brother for this happy rival; her spirit shaken by the present objects

finds nothing amiable in an absent one after two yeers. But pray excuse the heat of a fraternal love; the care I have of him, doth make me fear all things from her; I frame suspitions from too light a subject, The day of battel is unfit to change, with a new dart few hearts are wounded then, in so great trouble one hath other thoughts: But who can have such pleasant entertainments, and such contentments as may equall hers?

Julia.

The causes are as obscure unto me as unto you, I can't he satisfied by any thought, any conjecture on't; 'tis constancy enough in so great danger, to see it, to attend it without griefe; but surely 'tis too much t'expresse it further even unto joy.

Sabina.

See how a gentle Genius hath fittly sent her to us! Try to make her discourse upon this point, she loveth you too well to conceal any thing from you: I leave you, Julia, entertain my Sister. I am asham'd to shew so much of melancholy, and my heart hurthened with a thousand fears, seeks solitude to hide its sighs and tears.

SCENA. II.

Camilla, Julia.

Camilla.

Why flyes she, and would have me entertain you? thinks she that my grief's less then hers, and that as more insensible of such misfortunes, I should mix less plaints with my sad discourse? My soul's affrighted with the same alarmes. I shall lose in the one and th' other army aswell as she; I shall behold my Lover, nay more, my onely Joy die for his Country,

or ruine mine; and this dear object of my love become for my afflicting punishment, or worthy of my teares, or of my hate. Alas!

Julia.

Yet she is more to be lamented then you: one may change Lover, but not Husband; leave Curiacius, and receive Valerius, so shall you fear no more for th' adverse party, so shall you be all ours, and your ••pirit released of it's trouble, shall have nothing to lose more in the camp of th' Enemy.

Camilla

Give me advises that may be more lawful, and, without proposition of crimes, wail my misfortunes; although I can scarce resist my evils, yet I would rather suffer, then merit them.

Julia.

How, Madame! do you call a fair and reasonable change a crime?

Camilla.

What? think you that the breach of faith is pardonable?

Julia.

Towards an enemy what should oblige you?

Camilla.

Who can absolve us from a Solemn vow?

Julia.

'Tis to no purpose to disguise a thing that is so cleare: I saw you yesterday receive Valerius court-ship, and the favour which he receiv'd from you, gives him encouragement to nourish a sweet hope.

Camilla.

If yesterday I entertain'd him with a pleasing countenance, think nothing on't but to his disadvantage; of my content another was the object. But to remove your error, know the cause on't; I look on Curiacius with an amity too pure to suffer my self longer to be thought perjur'd. About five or six months after my Brother marryed his Sister (Julia you know it) he obtained of my Father that I should be his Wife. This day was prosperous and fatal to us both at once, uniting

our houses, it did disunite our Kings; our marriage and the war were both concluded at the same instant, our hope as soon dead as born, all promises lost assoon as made: Oh how extreme then were our miseries! how many blasphemies did Curiacius Vomit forth against Heaven? how many Rivers flow'd from mine eyes? I need not tell it you, you saw our farwels; you have since beheld the troubles of my soul, you know what prayers my flame hath made for peace, and what sad plaints at every encounter I have uttered, as fate dispos'd it; sometime for my Country, and sometime for my Lover: my dispaire at last constrained me to have recourse Unto the Oracles. Hearken unto the voyce that yesterday they gave unto me, and give me your opinion, whether I have reason thereupon to reassure my dismay'd spirit. That Greek so much renown'd, who for so many yeers foretold our destinies at the foot of Aventine, he I mean, that inspir'd by Apollo ne'r spake false, doth promise in these verses a quick end Unto my travels.

The Oracle.

Thy prayers are heard, Alba and Rome shall be to morrow in a faire confaederacy, and thou with Curicius shalt be joyn'd never to part, so have the Gods enjoyn'd.

She continues.

Upon this Oracle I ground a firme beliefe, and as the successe pass'd may hope, I gave my soul over to ravishments, which pass'd the transports of the happiest Lovers: Judge you of their excess. I met Valerius, and he could not, as he was wont, displease me, he spake to me of Love without my trouble;

I perceiv'd not that I discours'd with him, I could not shew him coldness, nor contempt; all that I saw seem'd Curiacius to me, all that he said unto me, spake his fires, all what I said assur'd him of my love. A general fight to day is doubted much, I heard the news on't yesterday, and was not troubled at it, my Spirit did reject these fatall objects, charm'd with the sweet thoughts of marriage and peace: But this last night hath dissipated those so charming errors. A thousand fearful dreams, and bloody Images, or rather heapes of slaughter and of horrour snatch'd my joy from me, and fill'd me with fear: I saw dead bodies, blood, and nothing else, a spirit appearing suddenly tooke flight, they defac'd one another, and each fantasme redoubled my fear by its confusion.

Julia.

A dream for the most part should be interpreted in a contrary sense.

Camilla.

I should believe it so, since I desire it; but notwithstanding all my prayers and wishes I see a day of battel, not of peace.

Julia.

Thereby the war will end, and peace will follow.

Camilla.

Last still the ill, if this must be the remedy! Whether Rome fall, or Alba be o'rthrown, dear Lover, think no more to be my Husband: my heart (how great soever the fire be that doth consume it) will not have the conquerour, nor Slave of Rome. But what new object here presents it selfe? Is it thee, Curiacius?

SCENA III.

Curiatius, Camilla, Julia.

Curiat.

Camilla, doubt it not, behold a man who neither is the conquerour, nor yet the slave of Rome: fear not to see my hands blush with the shameful weight of Irons, or the blood of Romanes; I believ'd you lov'd glory and Rome enough for to despise my chaine, and hate my Victory, and so in this extremity I equally feared captivity and Victory.

Camilla.

It is sufficient, Curatius, I do divine the rest, thou fly'st a battel so fatall to thy wishes, and thy heart wholly mine, to the end thou mayst not lose me, denies to lend thy arm unto thy Country: let who will herein look on thy Renowne, and blame thee to have too much loved me, Camilla must not disesteeme thee for't; the more thy Love appears, the more she ought to cherish thee: and if thou owest much unto the place that gave thee birth, the more thou quit'st for me, the more thy Love appears, But hast thou seen my Father? can he suffer thee in his house thus? doth he not preferre the State before his private Family? regardeth he not Rome more then his daughter Lastly, is our good fortune well assur'd? hath he beheld thee as a Son in law, or as an Enemy?

Curiat.

He look'd upon me as son in law with tenderness and love, which witnessed enough an entire Joy:

but he beheld me not, by any treason unworthy honour, enter in his house: I give not up the interest of my towne, I love my honour yet, though I adore Camilla; so long as the war hath lasted, I have approv'd my self as good a Citizen, as faithful lover. I would with my Love reconcile Alba's quarrel, I sigh'd for you in combating for her; and if we must yet come to strokes, I should, alas! fight for her, and sigh for you: in spight of the desires of my charm'd soul, if the warre should continue, I should be in the Army: it is peace that giveth me a free accesse unto you, peace, unto which our love oweth this happinesse.

Cam.

Peace! by what means may one believe this miracle?

Julia.

Camilla, at the least believe the Oracle, and know we fully by what blest effects the happines of a battle hath produc'd this peace.

Curiat.

Ye Gods, who even could have thought it! Already the two Armies animated unto the combate, with an equal heat threatned each other with their eyes, and fiercely advancing, look'd for nothing but the signall to give the charge, when our discreet Dictator putting himself some distance fore the ranks, demanded of your Prince a minutes silence; it being granted him,

What do we, Romans, (said he) what divel provoketh us to arms? let reason rule, and cleer your understandings. We are your neighbours, your fair daughters are our wives, and ours are yours; Hymen hath joyn'd us by so many reciprocal strong knots that there are few of our sons which are not your Nephews; and to speak the truth, we are but one blood, and one people in two Towns; why should we tear our selves by civil warrs,

where the death of the conquered weakneth the conquerors, and the most beautious triumph is watered with tears? Our common enemies expect with joy, when one of us defeated, shall leave the other as a prey unto them; they have too long enjoy'd the benefit of our divisons: let us for the future joyne all the forces that we have against them, and let us drown these petty differences forever in Oblivion, which make so ill allies of such good Warriours: but if th'ambition to command each other maketh your troops and ours to march to day, if we would but appease her with lesse blood, she will unite, farre from dividing, us. Let us name Combatants for th' common cause, each people fix it self unto their own; and as the chance of Arms shall dispose of them, the weakest party shall obey the strongest; but with this reservation, that the conquered without indignity to such brave Warriours, shall not be slaves, but subjects, free from tribute or shame, without other subjection then to be bound to follow in all places the Colours of the Conqueror. Thus our two States wil make but one resplendent Empire.

He ended here, every one figh'd with joy, and looking each into the others ranks, knew there a friend, a cozen, or a brother: they wondred how their hands, greedy of blood, flew rashly to so many parricides, and shew'd a face at once cover'd with horror of battaile, and with ardour for this choice: At last the offer was accepted, and the desir'd peace on those conditions was swore of both sides, three should fight for all: but for to make the better choice, our Chiefs will take a little leisure. Your election

is in the Senate, our within a Tent.

Cam.

O Gods, how this discourse contents my minde!

Curiat.

Within three hours or there abouts, by common accord, the fortune of our warriours shall rule our fortune; in the meane time all are free, expecting when they shall be nam'd; Rome's in our Campe, and our Campe is in Rome; free access being allowed of both sides, every one goes to finde his ancient friend, and to receive his Love; for my part, Madame, my passion made me seeke your noble Brothers, and my desires met with so good success, that th' Authour of your dayes hath promised to give me the unparallell'd happiness of your faire hand to morrow; you will not, I hope, become a Rebell to his power.

Cam.

The duty of a daughter is obedience.

Curiat.

Come then, receive that sweet command which must heape up my happiness to its full height.

Cam.

I follow you, but for to see my Brothers, and to know th' end too of our miseries.

Julia.

Go, whilst that I at the foot of the Altars, freed so propitiously from their feirce rods, give thanks for you to the immortall Gods

The end of the first Act.

ACTUS II. SCENA I.

Horatius, Curiatius.

Curiatius

THus Rome hath fitly placed her esteeme, she should have chosen otherwise unworthily; this City proud in you and in your brothers, hath found three warriours, which she doth preferre

before all others, and opposing to us no other armes but yours, braveth all ours with one sole house: we will believe that, seeing all is committed to your hands, there is no Romane besides Horace and his Sons: This choice can fill three Families with Glory, and consecrate their names to future ages: Oh yes! the honour which your doth receive by this choice, can immortalize all three; and since with you my fortune and may flame have made me place my Sister, chuse my wife, that which I ought to be, and what I am to you already, makes me take your part as much as possibly I can: But sadly another interest doth restraine my Joy, and mingles bitterness amongst those sweets; the war hath cast such a refulgent ray upon your Valour, that I shake for Alba, and foresee its misfortune; since you combat, her ruine is assur'd; in making you the choice, even destiny her selfe hath sworn it. I see herein too plain her fatall projects, and do already count my selfe your subject.

Horat.

So little reason have you to lament for Alba, that Rome rather should be pitied, seeing those she rejecteth, and the three she names; alas! it is a fatall blindness for her, in having so many brave Hero's to chuse, and yet to take the worst; a thousand of her faire Children, far more worthy of her then we, could better have sustain'd her quarell: But though this combat points me out a grave, the Glory of this choice doth swell me up with a just pride, my spirit doth receive a masculine assurance by't, I dare by vertue of it to hope much from my small Valour, and what ere the projects be of envious fortune, I do not account me

it'h' number of your subjects: Rome hath too much attributed to me; but my ravish'd soul shall satisfie her expectation, or lose its life; he that resolves to die, or overcome, is seldome overcome; this generous despair doth hardly perish: but come what will, Rome shall be free, not subject until my last gasp assure my defeat.

Curiat.

Alas! how much am •• here to be pitied! that which my Country will, my Amitie forbids: Cruel extremities! to see Alba enslaved, or her Victory bought at the dear rate of a life so precious, and the chief good whereto her wishes tend, purchased at the price of your last sighs: What prayers shall I form? what happinesse expect? on every side I must shed tears; on every side my desires are betrai'd.

Horat.

What! would you weep me dying for my Country? Such a death for a generous heart hath charms; the glory that attends it doth allow no tears; and I should blesse my fortune, if the State and Rome could lose lesse by my death.

Curiat.

How ever, Sir, permit your friends to fear it, they onely in so fair a death as this are to be weep'd, the glory ont's for you, the losse for them: it maketh you immortal, and rendreth them miserable; what is it one loseth not in losing of a friend so faithful! But I see Flavian approach, he brings me here some news. Hath Alba yet made choice of her three combatants?

SCENA II.

Horatius, Curiatius, Flavianus.

Flavian.

I come to tell you of it.

Curiat.

Well, who are the three?

Flav.

You, Sir, and your two brothers.

Curiat.

Who?

Flav.

You, I say, and your two brothers. But why this sad countenance and this severe look? doth the choice displease you?

Curiat.

No, but it doth surprize me, I thought my self unworthy of so great an honour.

Flav.

Shall I tel (Sir) the Dictator that sent me to you, with what little joy you do receive it? This cold entertainment doth make me wonder.

Curiat.

Tel him, that Amitie, Love, and Allyance can't hinder the three Curiatii to serve their Country 'gainst the three Horatii.

Flav.

Against them! oh! it is too much for me to speak in few words.

Curiat.

Carry him my answer, and leave us in repose.

—Exit. Flavian.

SCENA III.

Curiatius, Horatius.

Curiat.

How heaven▪ hell and earth conspire against us, and make us war! Gods, divels, men, and fortune prepare a general assault against us; in the condition that we are, I dare them

to do their worst now, what so e'r they have of horrible and cruel, is much less then th' honour which they do unto us both.

Horat.

Fortune, that opens us the lists of honour, offers a glorious matter to our constancy, she draines her force to strengthen a misfortune. To measure her self better with our Valour, as she esteemeth us not common souls, she doth exclude our fortunes from the common. To fight an enemy for the general safety, and to expose ones self alone to stroaks against a stranger, is but the effect of a simple vertue, thousands have already perform'd it, thousands can perform it still: to lay ones life down for his Country, is so faire a fate, so worthy an exposure, that all should strive to purchase such a death: But to be willing for to sacrifice unto the publick that which we do love, to tye us resolutely to the combat against our other self, t' assault a party that takes the Brother of a wife, and Lover of a deare Sister for its sole defender, and breaking all these knotts, to arme for's Country against a blood which one would purchase with his life, is such a vertue as belongs not but unto us: The glorious lustre of its great name makes but few jealous of it; very few men have so imprinted it i' th' heart, as to dare to aspire unto so much renown.

Curiat.

'Tis true, our names henceforth shall never dye, th' occasion is faire 'tis fit we cherish it, we shall be held the mirrous of a vertue very rare. But for all that, our constancy and courage savours a little of barbarity: few even of the great hearts would be proud

to goe this way to immortality; at how high price soever we do set such a smoake, such vanity; obscurity is better then so much renown: for my part, I dare avouch it, and you might have seen it, that I consulted not upon my duty; nor our long amity: Love, nor alliance could e'r suspend my spirit a moments space; and since by this choice Alba shewes indeed that she esteemeth me asmuch as Rome doth you, I think to do as much for her as you for Rome; I have as good a heart: but lastly, I'm a man. I see your honour consists in shedding of my blood, that all mine doth depend on peircing of your body: ready t' espouse the Sister, I must kill the Brother, and all for my Countries sake; although without fear I fly to my duty, my heart is fiercely angry, and I tremble for horrour on't; I cannot chuse but pity my self, and cast an envious eye on those whose lives our war hath ravish'd, yet without any desire to retreat, or relinquish; this sad and Violent honour moveth me, but shakes me not; I love that which it gives me, and waile that which it taketh away from me: and if Rome doth demand a higher vertue, I thank the Gods that made me not a Romane, to conserve yet something of humane in me.

Horat.

If you are not a Romane, make your self worthy to be so: if you equall me, make it appear more plainly. Solid vertue, whereof I boast, admits no weakness with its constancy, and it is ill to enter into the lists of honour, and at first step to looke behind us; our misfortune's great, it is arriv'd unto the highest point, I look it boldly in the face, without

trembleing to see it. Against whom soever my Country doth imploy me, I accept this glory blindly, but yet joyfully: that, to receive such faire commands, should smother in us all other sentiments; who considers, besides to serve her, any other thing, disposeth himself poorly to his duty; this sacred right breaketh all other bonds; Rome hath found out my arm, I'le not examine it; with as sincere and full a joy as I Married the sister, I will fight the brother. And lastly, to cut off this frivolous speech, Alba hath nam'd you, I know you no more.

Curiat.

I know you yet, and that is it which kills me; but this sharpe vertue was not known unto me; as our misfortune now is, 't is arriv'd unto the highest point, suffer me to admire it, and not imitate it.

Horat.

No, no, embrace not vertue by constraint: and since you finde more pleasure in complaint, enjoy so sweet a good with all full liberty. Behold my Sister comes to lament with you: I'le goe to see yours, to resolve her soul unto this thought, that she is still my wife, to love you still, though I dye by your hands, and to take to her in her great'st misfortune the sentiments of Romane.

SCENA IIII.

Horatius, Curiatius, Camilla

Horat.

Sister, have you heard what accompt they make of Curiatius?

Cam.

Alas! my fortune hath much chang'd her face.

Horat.

Arme you with constancy, and shew your self

my Sister: if your Lover by my death returne a conquerour, receive him not as murtherer of a Brother, but as a man of honour, that doth what he ought to do, that serves his Country well, and shewes to all by his high vertue that he's worthy of you; and so, as if I liv'd, finish the marriage: But if this sword cut off his destiny, give to my Victory such entertainment: do not reproach me with your Lovers death; your tears flow from you, and your heart's oppress'd, consummate with him all this weakness, Sister, quarrel with Heaven and Earth, curse envious fortune. but think no more of death after the combat. Sir, I will leave you but a moment with her, since we must go together where bright honour doth call us.—

Exit Horatius.

SCENA V

Camilla, Curiatius.

Cam.

Wilt thou go, my deare Heart? art thou pleas'd with this fatall honour so farre, as to purchase it at the expense of all our happiness?

Curiat.

Alas! I see I must, do what I can, either of grief die, or Horatius hand; I go to this illustrious imployment as to my punishment, a thousand times I curse th' accompt they make of me, I hate that Valour which doth make Alba esteeme me, my flame doth pass from despaire even to crime, it quarrells with and doth assault the Gods; I wail you, and my self, but I must go.

Cam.

No, no, I know thee better, thou desir'st that I should pray thee, and that so my power excuse thee to thy Country. Thou art but

too famous by thy other brave exploits, Alba already hath receiv'd by them all what thou ow'st her, none then thee hath better sustain'd this war, none with dead bodies hath more covered this ground, thy name cannot grow greater, there is nothing wanting to it; suffer some other here t' ennoble his.

Curiat.

Should I premit, and see before mine eyes another head crown'd with immortal lawrels, which glory doth prepare me, and my Country reproach this to my vertue, that it might have trimphed, if I had combated? and by my Love, my Valour lull'd asleepe, crown so many exploits with such an infamy? No, Alba, after th' honour thou hast given me, thou shalt not fall, nor vanquish but by me; thou hast committed to my hands thy fate, I'le give to thee a good accompt of it, and live without reproach, or dye with shame.

Cam.

I hope thou wilt not so betray my trust.

Curiat.

Before I'm yours, I must be for my Country.

Cam.

But wilt thou for it so deprive thy self of brother in law, thy sister of her husband, I of my brothers?

Curiat.

Such is our misfortune: the choice of Alba and of Rome, takes off all sweetness from the names (sometime so sweet) of Brother in law and Sister.

Cam.

Wilt thou also come to present me with his head, and ask my hand for guerdon of thy Victory?

Curiat.

In the condition wherein I am, I must no more think of it; without hope, to love you, is all that which I can do. You weepe, my dear Heart.

Cam.

I have cause to weepe, my cruell Lover doth ordain me death; and when our Hymen lights his torch, alas!

he with his hand doth put it out, and opens a tombe unto me; this unpitiful heart is obstinate to my destruction, and sayes it loves me, when it murthers me.

Curiat.

What powerful discourse hath a Mistress when she's blubbered with tears? and how strong is a faire eye with such help? how tender is my heart become at this so sad a sight? my constancy against it laboureth with some regret. Assault not with your griefes my glory, and leave me alone to save my vertue from your tears, I feele it tottering, and ill defends it self: the more I am your Lover, the less am I Curiatius, already weake in combating 'gainst Amity, should it o'rcome at once both love and pity? Begone, love me no more, shed no more tears; where I oppose th' offence to such strong Armes, I shall defend me better 'gainst your anger; and to deserve it, I'le no more looke on you, revenge your self of an ingratfull person, and punish an inconstant. Shew you not your self as sensible of this injury? I have no more eyes for you. Yet you have for me! must there be more yet? I renounce my faith unto you. Rigorous vertue, whose Victime I am. What! canst not thou resist, without th' assistance of a crime?

Cum.

Commit no other crime, and I attest the Gods, that farre from hating thee, I'le love thee more: yes, I will cherish thee, false and ingrateful, and cease t' aspire unto the name of fratricide. Why am I Romane, or why Art not thou so? I would prepare thee Laurell with my hand, I would encourage thee, and not distract thee, and I would treate thee as I do my brother. Alas! I was to day blinde in my wishes,

I did against thee when I did for him, He returns: what misfortune! if the love of his wife workes no more upon his soul, then mine doth upon thine!

SCENA VI.

Horatius, Curiatius, Sabina, Camilla.

Curiat.

Good Gods! Sobina followes him. Is not Camilla strong enough to shake my heart, but you must joyn my Sister too? And leaving her tears to conquer me, bring you her hither to seeke the same advantage?

Sab.

No, no, Brother, oh no, I come not here but to embrace you, and to bid you adieu; your blood's too good, feare not that there is any baseness in it, nothing that may offend the constancy of these great hearts; if this illustrious fate should shake either of you, I should not own him for brother, or for husband: may I yet make a request unto you worthy of so brave a Husband, and so brave a Brother? I would at once take off impiety, render unto the honour that expects it, its purity, without mingling of crimes set its faire lustre on it: in a word, I faine would make you lawfull enemies; I am the sole bond of that sacred knot which joyneth you; when I shall be no more, you shall be nothing unto one another; breaking this chaine, you breake off your alliance; and since your honour doth require effects of hatred, purchase by my death the right and priviledge to hate: Alba and Rome will have it so, 'tis fit that you obey them; let one of you two kill me, and the other

revenge me, then your fight shall not be strange, or at least one of you shall justly fight for to revenge his wife, or else his sister. But what! you would fully so faire Glory, if any other quarrell should provoake you: your zeal unto your Country doth forbid you such cares, you should do very little for it, if less then this; unto it you must sacrifice, and without hate, a Brother in law, no more then deferre that which you ought to do; begin, and practise by his wife to shed his blood, begin to peirce his bosome by his sister; begin to make a worthy sacrifice of your illustrious lives to your deare praties by the death of Sabina; y'are enemies, you unto Alba, your to Rome, and I to both of them: what! think you to reserve me to see a Victory, where I shall behold the laurles of a brother or a husband smoake with a blood that I so cherished? can I between you two govern my heart then? fulfill the duty of sister and wife? embrace the conquerour in weeping for the conquered? no, no, before Sabina shall feel this stroake, the death which expect from one of you, shall readily prevent it. If you deny your hands, my own shall execute it; on then, who holds you? on, inhumane hearts! I shall have means enough to force you to it; you shall not be busie at the at the fight, but in the mid'st this body shall arrest your Swords, and spight of your refusals, force them to make way here before they reach at you.

Horat.

O my wife!

Curiat.

O my sister!

Cam.

They begin to mollifie.

Sab.

You sigh, your Visages

grow pale! are you those great hearts, those brave Heroes, which Rome and Alba have tane for defenders?

Horat.

Wife, what have I done to thee, wherein have I offended thee, that thou seek'st out against me such a revenge? what have my honour done thee? and wherefore comest thou with all thy force tassault my vertue? satisfie thy self at least to have astonish'd it, and leave me to finish this great business. Thou would'st faine reduce me to strange point, if thou lov'dst thy husband, thou wouldst not seeke to prevaile; be gone then, and no longer leave the Victory doubtful and in suspence, the dispute on't makes me asham'd already: suffer me to end my dayes with honour.

Sabina.

Well, proceed, feare me no more; he comes to thy assistance.

SCENA VII.

The old Horatius, Horatius, Curiatius. Sabina, Camilla.

The old Horatius.

How comes this, Children? doth your love lull you asleepe, or do you hearken to its charme? Lose you yet time with women? even ready to shed blood, looke you on effeminate tears? begone, and leave these blubber'd fooles to their misfortunes; their complaints have too much art and tenderness for you; they would participate their weakness to you, and there is no way to shun those stroakes but onely to fly from them.

Sabina.

Feare nothing from them, they are worthy of you, in spight of our endeavours; I perceive, you may expect what ever you desire both from a Son and Son in law; and if our weakness could have changed them, we leave you

here to encourage them; come, Sister, come, let us lose no more tears; against such vertues they are but weake armes, 'tis but to despaire that we must have recourse, Go, Tigers, go to fight, and we will go to die.

—Exeunt women.

SCENA VIII.

The old Horatius, Horatius, Curiatius.

Horat.

Father, I do beseech you, entertain these passionate Women; above all things see they come not forth, their troublesome affection would come with glory by their cryes and tears to interrupt our combat, and what they do to us, would with justice do; we may be, perhaps, suspected of this evil artifice. The honour of so faire a choice would be too dearly bought, if we should be suspected of any cowardize.

The old Horat.

I will have care of them; begone, your Brothers do attend you: think of nothing, but what's due unto your Country.

Curiat.

What fare-well shall I bid you, and what complements use t' express my self?

The old Horat.

Oh! do not mollifie my sentiments here: to encourage you my voyce wants language, my heart cannot form thoughts strong enough: At this adieu I have my self tears in mine eyes. Do what you ought, and in your combat have no other thought.

The end of the second Act.

ACTUS III. SCENA I.

Sabina.

MY soul, we cannot stand indifferent, one side 'tis requisite I take; I must be wife unto Horatius, or sister to Curiatius; cease we to divide our fruitless cares, let us desire something, and fear a little less; but which to take, alas! I know not, in a chance so contrary; it is a hard extremity to chuse a husband or a brother for an enemy; Nature or Love doth speake for each of them, and by the laws of duty I am ty'd unto them both: on their high sentiments rather lets rule our own, be the wife of th' one, and sister of the other both together, let's looke upon their honour as a good unparallell'd, let's imitate their constancy, and let us feare no more; the death which threatens them is such a faire death, that we should not be afraid to heare the news o'nt; let's not call then the destinies inhumane, let us think upon the cause, and not upon the hands, let us behold the conquerours as if we had no other thought but of the glory which all their house receiveth from their Victory, without considering what blood is shed to raise their vertue to that glorious hight, let's make our interests of their Family, in the one I am wife, in th' other daughter, and hold of both by such strong obligations

that they cannot triumph but by my armes. Fortune, whatever evils thy rigour sends me, I have the means to derive joy from thence, and to see now the combat without fear, the dead without despaire, the conquerours without confusion. Flattering illusion, sweet and gross error, vaine indeavour of my sonl, impuissant light, whose false sparks take a priviledge to dazle me! how little thou last's, and how soon vainshest! much like unto those lightnings which in the thick shades thrust forth a sudden day, and afterward renders the night more gloomy and obscure; thou struck'st mine eyes but with a moments brightness to overwhelme them with eternal night. Thou too much flattered'st my punishment, and Heaven offended at it, selleth me this moment of refreshment very deare, I feele my sad heart pierc'd with all the stroakes, that now deprive me of a brother or a husband; when I think upon their death, what ever I propose, I think by what arme, and not for what cause, nor can I ••ehold the conquererours in their illustrious ranke but to consider at what bloods expense; the house o' th' vanquish'd party onely touches my soul, in one I'm daughter, wife in th' other, and hold of both by such strong obligations, that they cannot triumph but by my armes. This is that peace then I so much desired! Too favourable Gods, you heard my prayers! what thunder-bolts dart you, when you are wronged, when even your favours are so full of cruelties? And in what manner punish you offence, if thus you use the prayers of innocence?

SCENA II.

Sabina, Julia.

Sab.

Is it done, Julia? what news bring you me? Is it a bro••ers or a husbands death? Or hath the sad fate of their impious armes of all the combatants made as many sacrifices, and envying me the horrour which I had o' th' conquerours, condemned me to tears for all o•• them together?

Julia.

Know you not what hath pass'd yet?

Sab.

How should I understand it? know you not that Camllia and my self are shut up in this house, as in a prison?

Julia,

they fear our tears: we should without doubt have interpos'd our selves between their armes, and by the just despaires of a chast amity we should have drawn some pity from both Camps.

Julia.

There was no need of such a tender spectacle, their sight brought obstacle enough unto their fight; assoon as they were ready to measure their swords, both one, and th' other Camp began to murmur, that persons so neer ally'd, should sacrifice each others life unto their Countries quarrel; one was mov'd with pity, and another seiz'd with horrour, some wonder'd at the madness of their zeal, others extoll'd their vertue to the Heavens, and some presum'd to name it sacrilegious and brutish; all these diverse sentiments had yet but one voice, every one accused their Chiefs, all with a general consent abhorr'd their choice, not able to endure so barbarous a combat, they cry'd out on't, advaunced therupon, and parted them.

Sab.

Great Gods! what incense do I owe unto you for hearing my devotions?

Jul. Sabina,

you are not yet where you imagin now; you may hope, you have less to fear: but yet there doth remain unto you cause enough wherewith to wail you. Vain was the indeavour to free them from so sada fate, these generous, or rather cruel combatants could not consent unto 't; the glory of this choice seemed so precious to them, and so much charm'd their ambitious souls, that when they were deplored, they esteemed themselves happy, and tooke the pity that was shew'd unto them for an affront: The trouble of both camps seem'd unto them to sully their renown, they rather would combat with both the armies, and dye by the same hands that parted them, then quit the honours were confer'd upon them.

Sab.

What? were those Iron hearts so obstinate?

Jul.

They were so, but the armies mutany'd, and uttering their cryes both at one time, demanded other combatants, or battaile. Scarce was the presence of the Chiefs respected, their power was doubtful, their words not attended: the King himself was much astonish'd at it. Since every one (said he) dislikes this discord, let us consult the sacred Majesty of the great Gods, and see we if this change be pleasing to them: where's that impious soul will dare oppose their will, when in a sacrifice, they shall be pleas'd to manifest it to us? He held his peace, and these words seemed charmes, yea from six combatants snatch'd away their armes; and this desire of honour which shut up their eyes, though blind, respected yet the Gods: their boiling heat submitted to the counsell of Tullus; and were it by an appeale,

or by a ready scruple, in both armies 'twas made a law, as if they both acknowledg'd him for King; the victimes death will shew the rest.

Sab.

The Gods will not allow an impious combat, I hope well of it, since it is deferr'd, and I begin to see what I desir'd.

SCENA III.

Sabina, Camilla. Julia.

Sab.

Sister, I'le tel you good news,

Cam.

I believe, I know it, if we may but name it such; I was in presence when 'twas told unto my Father, but I gather nought from thence that may asswage my grief; this intermission of our misfortunes, will but make their stroaks more rude; 'tis but a longer time allow'd to our inquietudes, and all the comfort that one may hope from thence, is onely this, to lament those we love a little later.

Sab.

The Gods have not in vain inspir'd this tumult.

Cam.

Let's rather say, sister, that we consult them in vain; the same Gods have inspir'd this choice into the brest of Tullus; and the publick is not always their voice; much less descend they into such low receptacles, but in the brest of Kings, their living Images, whose absolute power is, and authority, a secret ray of their divinity.

Jul.

It is to form you ostacles without reason, to seeke their voices otherwise then in their oracles, and you can't to your self figure all lost, without belying that was rendered to you yesterday.

Cam.

An Orale

can ne'r be comprehended: for the more we think to understand it, commonly the less we understand it, farre from setling on such a sentence; who sees nothing in't obscure, ought to believe that all is so.

Sab.

Let us build more assurance upon that which makes for us, and entertain the sweetness of a just hope; when Heaven is favourable halfe wayes to ope its armes, who doth not promise some good thence to himself, deserves it not; he oftentimes hindereth this favour from shewing it self, and when it doth descend, his cold refussall sendeth it away.

Cam.

Heaven acteth without us in these events, and ordereth them not on our sentiments.

Jul.

He makes you not affraid but for your good Adiew, I goe to know what's done at last; asswage your fears, hope at my return, to entertain you, Ladies, with no other discourse but love, and that we shall imploy the end of this day to the sweet preparatives of a blest marriage.

Sab.

I hope it also.

Cam.

And I dare not to dream on't.

Jul.

Th' effect will make it plaine t'y', which knows best to judge thereof.

SCENA IIII.

Sabina, Camilla.

Sab.

In the midst of our sorrows, give me leave to blame you: so much trouble in your soul I can no way approve of; if you were in my case, Sister, what would you do then! if you had so much cause to fear as I, and were to expect from their fatall armes

such ils as mine, and such unparalle'd losses?

Cam.

Speak more indifferently of your sufferings and mine, every one sees those of another not with the same eye that he sees his own; but to look well on mine wherein heaven plungeth me, yours after them would seem ty' as a dream. Horatius death is onely to be fear'd by you, a brother's nothing to a husband; the marriage that tyeth us unto another family, untyeth us from that wherein we lived maids; these knots so different, are not to be compar'd; we must leave Parents, Friends and all the world to follow a deare husband. But if, Sister, so neer unto a marriage, the Lover which a glad farther gives, is less unto us then husband, and not less then brother, surely our sentiments between them do remain suspended, our choice is impossible, and our desires confounded. Thus you have in your complaints where to direct your wishes, and terminate your fears: but if heaven should resolve to presecute us, for my part, I must fear all things, and can hope for nothing.

Sab.

When one must dye, and by the others hand, 'tis but an ill dispute this which you make; let the knots be as different as they will, we must not leave our parents in oblivion; although we leave them, Hymen doth not raze out those deepe engraven characters; to love a husband, we are not oblig'd to hate our brothers; nature alwayes doth conserve her first rights, when the death of either one or other is propos'd, we cannot chuse, they are as well unto us, as a husband, our other selves, and all evils are alike when that they are extreme: but happily the Lover that doth charme▪ you and for whom

you burn, is not so to you as you'd have him, an evil humour, or a little zealousie, may banish him your good opinion; and put him quite out of your fantasie; what they do often, do the same by reason, and leave your blood out of comparison: T' oppose voluntary bonds to those whom birth hath rendred necessary, is a crime indubitable: If heaven should resolve then to persecute us, I have the most reason to feare all fortunes, and despaire of all things; but for your part, duty directeth you in your complaints where to addresse your wishes, and terminate your fears.

Cam.

Sister, I see you never lov'd you know not Love, nor felt his darts: one may resist him in the birth, but when he's grown, and become Master of us, we cannot banish him; especially when the consent of Father in engaging our faith hath made this tyrant lawfull King. He entereth with sweetness, but he raignes by force; and when the soul hath tasted once his sweet temptation, to love no more is that it cannot do; since it cannot desire but what he will, his chaines are for us as strong as faire.

SCENA V.

The old Horatius, Sabina, Camilla.

Old Horat.

I come to bring unto you sorrowful news; my daughters, but in vain I should conceale it you, which could not but a little time be hidden; your Brothers are in fight, the Gods ordain'd it.

Sab.

I must confess this news doth much astonish me

I thought there was in the Divinities much less injustice, and much more of goodness: comfort us not, reason is troublesome when it dares to oppose such a misfortune; we have the end of our griefs in our hands, who can resolve to dye, can brave disaster. We easily could make, Sir, in your presence a feigned constancy of our despaire; but when one can without shame be without resolved courage, 'tis a cowardise to counterfeit it: the use of such art we leave to men, and will not pass for that but what we are: It is not our desire that such a stout spirit should abase it self by our example to complain of fortune; receive these mortal tidings without trembling, behold without mingling your own with them our tears flow down our cheeks; lastly we crave (as all the favour we desire in such calamities,) that you will keepe your constancy, and suffer our sad sighs.

The old Horat.

I am so farre from blaming the tears which I see you shed, that I can scarce defend me from their force, and should perhaps yeild to such strong assaults, if herein we had both like interest: not that your Alba by her choice hath made me to hate your brothers, all three are deare persons yet unto me; but amity is not of the same ranke, and hath not the effects of love nor blood. I do not feele for them the griefe that doth torment Sabina as a Sister, and Camila as a Lover; I can behold them as our enemies, and give without regret my prayers and wishes unto my Sons; they are (thanks to the Gods) worthy their Country; no astonishment e'r perished their glory, and I saw

their honour increase highly when their courages refus'd the pity of both campes. If they by any weakness had desired it, if their high vertue had not presently refused it, my hand should have reveng'd me upon them of the affront which their effeminate consent had done me; but when in despight of them they would have other combatants, I'le not deny't, I joyn'd my prayers with yours; if pitiful Heaven had hearkned to my voice, Alba should be reduc'd to chuse anew, we should see then the Horaces triumph without seeing their hands stain'd with the blood of the bold Curiatii, and upon the event of a combat farre more reasonable the honour of the Romane name would now depend. The prudence of the Gods doth otherwise dispose thereof, on their eternall order my spirit doth repose, it armes it self on this occasion with generosity, and of the publick good makes its felicity. Indeavour both of you to do as much, to ease your griefs, and think that you are Romanes: you are become so, you (Camllia) born such; so glorious a title is a treasure; a day, a day will come that Rome shall make its glorious name fear'd like the thunderbolts through the whole earth, and all the universe shall shake under its lawes, it will become th' ambition of Kings; for the Gods have promis'd this glory unto our Aeneas.

SCENA VI

The old Horatius, Sabina, Camilla, Julia.

The old Horat.

Come you to tell us, Julia, the Victory?

Jul.

But rather, Sir, the fatall sad effects of the fight Rome is subject unto Alba, and your sons are defeated; two o' th' three are dead, her husband onely doth remaine.

Old. Horat.

O effect of a sad fight truely fatal! Rome subject unto Alba, and my Son to free her from it not imploy himselfe unto the last gasp! No, this cannot be: Julia, you are deceived, Rome's not subject, or my Son's slaine.

Jul.

A thousand from our Ramparts saw it as well as I: he made himself adimir'd whil'st that his Brothers stood; but when he saw himself alone against three adversaries, ready to be encompassed by them; he sav'd himself by flight.

Old Horat.

Would not our souldiers dispatch the traitor! would they give this coward retraite into their ranks?

Jul.

I had no heart to see more after this defeat.

Cam.

O my Brothers!

Old Horat.

Soft, mourn them not all, two of them enjoy a fortune that doth make their father proud and jealous too; See that their tombe be cover'd with the most noble flowers; the glory of their death hath pay'd me for their loss: this happiness hath followed their unconquer'd courage, that they saw Rome free as long as they had life, and would not have beheld her to obey but her own Prince, nor to become the Province

of an adjacent State. Lament the other, lament the irreparable affront his shamefull flight imprinteth on our brow, lament the foul dishonour that he casts on all our race, and the eternal stain he leaves unto the sometime glorious name of the Horatii.

Jul.

What would you have him do, Sir, against three?

Old Horat

What! I would have him dye: a brave dispaire would have assisted him perhaps, had he deferred his defeat a minute longer; at least Rome would have been a little later subjected; so would he have left my haire with honour grey, and that were a reward worthy his life. He is accomptable unto his Country of all his blood, every drope spared, perisheth his glory; after this base bout every instant of his life doth publish, with his own, my shame. I'le breake the course of it, and my just anger, 'gainst an unworthy son using the rights of father, shall make in his punishment appear the glorious disacknowledgment of such an action.

Sab.

Hearken somewhat less unto these generous heats, and render us not altogether miserable.

Old Horat.

Sabina, your heart may easily be comforted, hitherto our misfortunes touch you little, you have no part yet in our miseries: Heaven hath sav'd you your husband and your brothers, if we are subject, 'tis unto your Country; your brothers are the conquerous, although we are betray'd; and seeing the high point whereto their glory mounts, you little looke upon our shame; but your too much affection

for that so infamous husband, will perswade you to grieve as well as we ere it be long; your tears in his behalfe are but weak guards: I swear by the great Gods, the supreme powers, that ere this day end, these my proper hands shall wash off with his blood the stain from Rome.

Sab.

Let's follow him anger transporteth him. Gods! shall we see nothing but such misfortnnes? must we feare greater still, and must o••r fates alwayes proceed from friends and parents hates?

The end of the third Act.

ACTUS IIII. SCENA I.

The old Horatius, Camilla.

Old Horat.

NE'r speak unto me in the favour of an infamous person, let him fly me as the Brothers of his wife; to save a blood that he esteemes so precious, he hath done yet nothing, if he keep not from my sight.

Sabina

may give order for't, or I attest the soveraigne power of all the Gods.—

Cam.

Oh, father, take a sweeter sentiment, you shall see Rome herself to use him otherwise, and by what fate soe'r she be oppres'd, t' excuse a vertue so o'r-charg'd with number.

Old Horat. Romes

Judgement herein makes but little for me,

Camilla,

I'm a father, and I have my rights apart. I am not ignorant how the true vertue acts: there is no triumph where number doth oppress, her masculine vigour alwaies in the same point falls underneath the force, but yields not to it. Peace, here comes

Valerius.

What is his business with us?

SCANA II.

The old Horace, Valerius, Camilla.

Valerius.

Sent by the King to consolate a father, and to express for him—

Old Horat.

Take you no care on't, it is a comfort which I have no need of; I rather would behold them dead, then covered with infamy, that come to take me from an enemies hand; they dy'd both for their Country like men of honour, 'tis sufficient.

Val.

But, Sir, the other is a rarer blessing, of all the three he ought to hold with you the chiefest place.

Old Horat.

Would he have made the name of the Horatii perish with himself!

Val.

You only treat him ill after the deed that he hath done.

Old Horat.

His fault belongs to me onely to punish.

Val.

What fault can you finde in his good conduct?

Old Horat.

What brave vertue can you finde in his flight?

Val.

His flight is glorious on this ocasion.

Old Horat.

You redouble, Sir, my shame and my confusion: sure th' example is rare, and worthy memory, to finde in flight a way to glory.

Val.

What confusion, and what shame is't to you to have brought forth a Son that doth conserve us all, that maketh Rome triumph, and gaineth an Empire to her?

Old Horat.

What preservation, triumph, and what Empire,

when Alba rangeth underneath her lawes our destiny!

Val.

What speak you here of Alba, and of her Victory? you know not yet halfe of the story.

Old Horat.

What? is not the combat finished by his flight?

Val.

Alba Though so at first, but she perceived soon, that he fled like a man, that knew well how to manage Romes best advantage.

Old Horat.

What! triumphs Rome then?

Val.

Be pleas'd to understand; the valour of this son, whom wrongfully you do condemn, resting alone 'gainst three, (but in this passage, all the three being wounded, and he free) too weake for all, too strong for either of them, he thought it fit a little to retire him; he fled to fight the better; this quick policie fitly divides the brothers, each of them follows him with a pace more or less eager, as he doth finde himself more or less hurt: their heat was equal to pursue his flight, but their unequal blows did separate their pursuite: when Horatius saw them thus scattered one from the other, he return'd, and thought them more then halfe conquer'd already: he did expect the first, and 'twas your son in law, who all enraged that he should stay for him, in vain did make a great heart to appear, assaulting him, the blood that he had lost weakened his strength: Alba began to fear a change of fortune, she cry'd to the second that he should ayd his Brother; he made hast, and spent himself in vain attempts for her, but found his Brother dead when he came up.

Cam.

Alas!

Val.

Quite out of breath, he tooke his brothers place,

and soon redoubled Horatius Victory; his courage without strength was a weak prop: desirous to revenge his brothers death, he fell down by him. The air did resound with cryes, which all sent unto heaven upon it; Alba breath'd sorrow, and the Romans joy. As our brave Hero saw his enterprise neer at an end, he would a little vaunt as well as conquer: I am come (said he) from sacrificing two unto the Ghosts of my dead brothers: Rome shall have the last of my three adversaries, it is unto her int'rests that I offer him: This said, he presently flew at him; between them the Victory remain'd not long time doubtful; the Alban pierc'd with wounds, could hardly stand, and as a Victime brought before the Altar, he seemed to present his yeelding throat unto the deadly stroak; so he receiv'd it. His death establisheth the power of Rome.

Old Horat.

O my son! O my joy! O honour of my dayes! O unexpected succour of a tottering State! O vertue worthy Rome, and blood worthy Horatius! Thou support of thy deer Country, glory of thy race! When can I somother in my close imbracements the error wherewith I form'd such false sent'ments? When my love bath thy victorious front with tears of joy?

Val.

Sir, presently you may Use your caresses, the King goes to sent him unto you, and deferres until to morrow the pompous sacrifice which we owe to the gods for such a benefit; onely to day we pay them but with songs of Victory, and ordinary vows. The King doth lead him unto the Temple, whilst he sendeth mee to do this office to you both of joy

and grief together: But this is not yet enough for him, he will come here himself, perhaps to day; this noble action so highly toucheth him, that he will thank you with his own mouth, for giving your brave sons to the good of his State.

Old Horat.

Such high acknowledgments have too much glory for me; I account my self already too much paid by yours for the one service, and the others blood.

Val.

The King can't' do an honour (Sir) by halfs; and his Crown snatched from the enemies hands, makes him esteem the honour he intends you beneath the Father's merit, and Son's. I'll go to let him know what noble sentiments Vertue inspires into you, and what ardour you expresse for his service.

Exit Valerius.

Old Horat.

I shall be very redeonble to you for that good office.

SCENA III.

The old Horatius, Camilla.

Old Horat.

Daughter, this is no fit time to shed tears: it is not handsome when we see such honours: We mourn unjustly for domestick losses, when publick Victories proceed from thence: Rome triumphs over Alba, and that is enough for us; all our ills at this rate ought to be sweet unto us; in the death of a dear Lover, you lose but a man, whose losse is easie to repair in Rome: after this victory, there is no Roman but will be proud to give his hand to you. I must go to Sabina with this news; this stroak (without doubt) will be grievous to her,

her Brothers stain all by her Husbands hand, will give her juster tears and plaints then you: But I hope easily to dissipate the violence thereof, and that a little discretion assisting her great courage, will make the generous love she owes unto the Conqueror, reign on so noble heart: In the mean time, smother this unbecoming and poor low passion. If he comes, receive him, and shew no weaknesse; make your self appear to be his Sister, and that in one womb Heaven form'd you both of the same blood and substance.

SCENA IV.

Camilla sola.

Yes, I will make appear plainly unto him, that a true Love can brave the Destinies, and cannot take Lawes from those cruell Tyrants, whom an injurious Star gives us for Parents. Thou blam'st my grief, thou dar'st to name it base; so much the more I lov't (unpitifull Father) as the more it offends thee: by a just indevour I will make it equall to the rigours of my fortune. Was there ever seen any yet, whose rude traverses took in so short time so many severall faces, that was so often sweet, so often cruel, and gave so many various stroaks before the mortall strok! Was ever seen a soul more seis'd with joy and greif, with hope, and fear; subjected (as a slave) to more events, and made the pitious pastime of more changes! An Oracle assures me, a Dream frights me, Battel dismayes me, and Peace pleaseth me: my Marriage is prepar'd, and in a moment my Lover's chosen forth to fight my Brother.

The two Camps in a mutiny, disavow'd such an unjust choice, they brake off the partie; the Gods renew it; Rome seems vanquished, and only of three Albans, Curiatius hath not at all in my blood stain'd his hands God! did I not then feel too little grief for Rome's misfortune, and two Brothers death? Flatter'd I not myself too much, when I thought I might love him yet without a crime, and nourish some hope? His death scourgeth me enough for that, and the inhumane manner wherewith my terrified heart receiv'd the news thereof: his Rival told it me, and in my presence making the recital of so sad a successe, upon his front he wore an open joy; which griev'd my heart, and made the publick good lesse then my losse So building in the air upon anothers misfortune, he triumphed over him like to my Brother. But this is not all, 'tis nothing unto that which doth remain; In such a fatall stroke they ask my joy, I must applaud the Conqueror's exploits, and kisse a hand that pierceth my sad heart: in so great and so just a cause of plaints it is a shame to weep, a crime to sigh. Their bruitish vertue would, that (in this case) I should esteem me happy; so with them, one must be barbarous to be generous. But we'll degenerate (my Heart) from such a vertuous Father; let us unworthy of such a generous Brother: 'Tis a glory to passe for abject spirits, when bruitishnesse is held the highest Vertue. My just Griefs, break forth: to what end should I keep you in? When one hath lost all, what's more to be fear'd? Have no respect for this inhumane Conqueror: Fiar from avoyding of him, come athwart him,

trouble his Victorie, provoke his anger, and take (if possible) pleasure to displease him. He comes, prepare we shew constantly what a kind Mistresse owes unto the death of him she loves.

SCENA V.

Horatius, Camilla, Proculus, and two other Soul∣diers, carrying each of them a sword of the Curiatii.

Horat.

Sister, behold the arm that hath reveng'd our two brave brother; that hath broke the course of our contrary Destinies, that makes us Masters of Alba; lastly, see the arm that makes today the fortune of two States: Behold these marks of honour, these faire testimonies of glory, and give what thou ought'st unto the happinesse of my Victory.

Cam.

Receive then my tears; 'tis that which I do owe unto it.

Horat.

Rome Will see none after such high exploits; and our two brothers slain in the misfortune of arms, are paide enough with blood, there needs no tears to mingle with it. When the losse is reveng'd, 'tis recovered.

Cam.

Since they are satisfi'd by the blood that shed, I'll cease to mourn more for them, and forget their death, which your hand reveng'd. But who shall now revenge my Lovers, to make me forget his losse too?

Horat.

What saist thou, unfortunate!

Cam.

O my dear Curiatus!

Horat.

Infinite boldnesse of an unworthy Sister! Must the name of

a publick enemy, whom I have conquered, be in thy mouth, and his love in thy heart? Thy criminall heat aspireth to revenge, thy mouth demands it, and thy heart longs for it; follow thy passion lesse, stint thy desires, make me not blush to understand thy sighs; thy flames henceforth ought to be smothered, banish them from thy soule, and think upon my trophies, let them ever be hereafter thy onely entertainment.

Cam.

Give me then a heart like thine, barbarian. If thou wouldst have me to speak my thoughts, restore unto me my Curiatius, or leave my flame to act; my joy and griefs depend upon his fortune: I ador'd him living, and I mourne him dead. Seeke not thy sister where thou left'st her; thou shalt see no more in me but an offended Love, which like a furie fix'd to thy steps, incessantly shall haunt thee, and still reproach thee with his death. Inhumane, blood thirsty Tiger, that forbid'st me teares, that wouldst that in his death I should finde charmes, and that extolling thy exploits to heaven, I should my self kill him a second time! May such misfortunes waite upon thy life, that thou fall'st to the point to beare me envie, and sullie soone by some unworthy act that glory deare to thy brutalitie!

Horat.

O heaven! who ever saw so high a madness? Believ'st thou then that I should be insensible of such an outrage, and that I should suffer this foule dishonour in my blood! Love, love that death which makes our happinesse; but preferre that which thy birth owes to the interests of Rome, before the memory of a man.

Cam.

Rome, th' only object of my sad resentment! Rome, unto whom thine arm hath sacrific'd

my Lover! Rome, that gave thee birth, and whom thou dost adore! Lastly, Rome that I hate because she honours thee! May all her neighbours conspire together in a league against her, and sap her yet unsettled foundations: and if this of all Italie be not sufficient, let the East joyn with the West against her; let a thousand severall Nations (from the ends of the Universe) passe the seas and mountains to destroy her; let her self orethrow her walls upon her self, and with her own hands tear her bowels; let the anger of heaven (by my prayers kindled) make a deluge of fire to rain upon her; may mine eyes see those brave thunderbolts to fall upon her, her houses ashes, and her laurels dust; fee the last Roman breathing his last gasp, and I the cause of this, to die with pleasure.

Horat.

Putting his hand to his sword, and following his Sister, who slies him.

It is too much, my patience gives place to reason. Go thy wayes to hell, and joyn thy self there with thy Curiatius.

Cam.

Wounded behind the Stage.

O Traitor!

Horat.

Coming again upon the Stage▪

Such sudden punishment let every one receive, that dares lament a Roman enemy.

SCENA VI.

Horatius, Proculus.

Proc.

What have you done?

Horat.

I think, an act of justice, Such a fault such a punishment requires.

Proc.

You should have us'd her with lesse rigour, though.

Horat.

Tell me not that she is my blood, my sister; my father for his daughter can no more acknowledge her: Who is so bold to curse his Country, doth renounce his family: Those names of love are then no more allow'd him, he makes his deerest friends his enemies; the blood it self arms them in hatred of his crime, the speediest vengeance is the best for't. This impious wish, though forcelesse, is monster that must be smothered in the birth.

SCENA VII.

Horatius, Sabina, Proculus.

Sab.

Horatius, why stayeth thy illustrious anger here? come, see thy Sister in thy Fathers arms render her spirit: sacrifice unto the Country of the vertuous Horatii the sad remains of Curiatius blood: So prodigall of thy own, spare not theirs, joyn thy Wife to thy Sister, separate not Sabina and Camilla; our crimes are alike, as are our miseries; I sigh as well as shee, and do deplore my Brothers; more guilty in this point 'gainst'gainst thy hard lawes, in that she wept but one, and I weep three, and that after her punishment my fault continues.

Horat.

Dry thy tears, or hide them from my sight, Sabina, make thee worthy of my chast half, and endeavour not t' oppresse me with an unworthie pitie; if the power of a chaste flame leaveth unto us both but one thought, and one soul, it is thy part to raise thy sentiments to mine, not mine

to descend to the shame and poverty of thine; I love thee, and I know the grief that presseth thee; embrace my noble vertue to overcome thy weaknesse, share my glory in stead of sullying it, put it on rather then take it from me: And thou of my honour so mortall enemy, how much better should I have pleased thee, if fall'n in infamy? Be more a Wife then Sister, and conforming thy self to me, make thee of my example a law immutable.

Sab.

Seek more perfect souls to imitate thee. I impute not to thee my losse: I have the same sentiments I ought to have of them, and have a quarrell to fortune rather then unto thy duty. But withall, I renounce the Roman vertue, if to possesse it I must be inhumane, and cannot see in me the Conquerours Wife, without discerning there the Sister of the Conquered. Let us participate in publick of the publick Victories; let us at home weep our domestick evils, and not regard the common happinesse when we behold our private miseries. Why (cruel) dost thou covet to act otherwise? Entring, leave here thy Laurels at the door, mingle thy tears with mine. What? doth not this effeminate discourse arm thy high vertue against my sorrowfull dayes? Doth not my crime (redoubled) move thy choler? O how happie art thou, Camilla! She could soon displease thee, and receive from thee what she did pretend: she could below recover all her losse. Dear Husband, of the torment that doth presse me dear author, if thy anger ceases, hearken to pitie; exercise the one of th' other to punish my infirmitie, or end

my griefs. I ask death either for a favour, or for a punishment (I care not whether.) Let her be an effect of Love, or Justice, it matters not; all her darts shall seem sweet unto me, if I see them to come from a Husbands hand.

Horat.

What an injustice is it unto the Gods, to give up unto women so great an Empire on the fairest souls, and to be pleas'd to see such feeble Conquerours to reigne to strongly o'r the noblest hearts? My Vertue, unto what point dost thou come to be reduc'd? Nothing can better warrant it then flght. Adieu, follow me not, or hold thy sighs.

Exit Horatius.

Sab. alone.

O Anger! Pitie! deaf to my desires! You care not for my crime, and my grief tires you; and I obtain from you nor punishment nor favour. Well, once more by tears I'll try, and if that fail, then by myself I'll die.

The end of the Fourth Act.

ACTUS V. SCENA I.

The old Horatius, Horatius.

Old Horat.

LEt us withdraw our looks from that sad object, to admire here the judgement of the God; When glory puffs us up, they can confound our pride; (our sweetest pleasures come not to us without some sorrow) oftentimes they mingle infirmities with our Vertues, and grant seldom the entire honour of a glorious Actions

to our ambition; I mourn not Camilla, she was a criminal; I lament my self, and thee too more then she: I for producing unto the light a heart so little Roman, thou for dishonouring by her death thy hand. I find it not unjust, nor yet too quick; but (Son) thou mightst have spar'd thy self the shame on't: her crime, though great, and worthy death, were better unpunished, then punish'd by thy arm.

Horat.

Dispose my fortune as you please; the laws command it so: I thought I ow'd this stroak unto the place that gave me my first being. If my zeal to my Country seemeth criminall unto you, if thereby I must receive an everlasting staine, and by this action my hand become disgraced and prophane, you can with one sole word cut off my destinie. Receive your blood again, whose purity my basenesse hath unto so little purpose defiled: My hand could not suffer crime grow in our race; suffer you not a spot in your own house: 'Tis in those actions (wherewith honour is wounded) that a father, such as you are, shewes himself interested. His love must not appear, where all excuse is null; himself takes part when he dissembles them: and he makes small account of his own glory, when he forbears to punish what he doth not approve.

Old Horat.

He is not alwayes rigorous, but spares his children often for himself; his old age doth delight to lean upon them; and punisheth them not, to th' end he may not punish himself. I look upon thee with another eye then thou behold'st thy self. I know—But the King comes, I see his Guards.

SCENA II.

Tullus, The old Horatius, Valerius, Horatius, The Companie of the Guards.

Old Horat.

Oh Sir, this is too great an honour for me, I should not see my King in this poor place. Suffer me on my knees—

Tull.

No, Father, rise; I do but what a good Prince ought to do: so rare a service, and of such importance, requires the rar'st, and most illustrious honour: you had for pawn thereof his word already, I could no longer have deferred it. I know by his report (which I ne'r doubted) how brave and like your self you bear the death of your two sons, and that your soul already being resolv'd, my consolation would be superfluous: but I come to know what strange misfortune hath follow'd the vertue of your victorious Son, and how it comes, that his too much love for the publick cause bath tane an onely daughter from his father by his own hands: I know what such a stroak can do upon the strongest spirit, and doubt how you may bear this death.

Old Horat.

Sir, with displeasure, but yet with patience,

Tull.

'Tis plain, this is the vertuous effect of your experience: Many have taught by a long file of years, as well as you, that miseries succeed the sweetest happinesse; few know like you t' apply this remedie, and all their Vertue yeelds to their Interest. If my compassion can ease your sorrow, know that 'tis extreme,

as is your evill, and that Tullus laments you as much as he doth love you.

Val.

Sir, since Heaven doth put its justice in the hands of Kings, and the force of the lawes; and since the State asketh rewards for vertues, and strict punishments for crimes, of lawfull Princes; suffer that a just occasion make you to remember, that you lament too much what you should punish: Suffer—

Old Horat.

What! that we send a Conqueror to punishment?

Tull.

Allow him leave to finish, and I'll do justice; I am bound to render it to all, at all hours, and in every place: it is by it that a King makes himself a demi-God: and hence is't that I pitie you, that after such a service, against him they should demand me justice.

Val.

Suffer then, O great King, and the justest of all Kings, that all good men speak to you by my mouth: not that our hearts, as jealous of his honours, urge us to this; if he receiveth much, his high deeds do deserve it; add unto it, rather then lessen it; we are also ready to contribute unto it: but since he hath shew'd himself guilty of such a crime, let him triumph as Conquerour, and perish as malefactor: stop his fury, and save from his hands, if you desire to reigne, the remnant of the Romans: hereupon depends the losse or safety of the rest; seeing the blood shed by this fatall Warr, and so many fair knots of marriage wherewith our happy destinies have so often united such neer nighbours, few of us have enjoy'd such a happinesse, as not

I'have lost a Cosen, or a brother in law, an uncle, or a son in law in Alba, whereby to have occasion to shed tears for their own losses in the publick joy: If it be an offence to Rome, and that the fortune of his arms alloweth him to punish this crime of our tears, what blood will this fierce Conqu'ror spare, that would not pardon that of his Sister, nor excuse the grief which the death of a Lover doth infuse into a Mistresse heart, when ready to be lighted by the fair nuptiall Torch, she sees her hope i'th' grave with him? Making Rome thus to triumph, he enslaves it: by this means he hath a right of life and death upon us, and our offending dayes shall last no longer then it shall please his clemency to suffer them. I could add, for the interests of Rome, that such a stroak's unworthy of a man: I could demand, to be brought here before you that rare exploit of a victorious arme; you should see then a fair blood (to accuse his rage) retort into his cruel face: you should behold horrours which cannot be conceiv'd; her age and beauty (sure) would move you, but I hate those means that show artifice. You have deferr'd the sacrifice till to morrow; Think you that the just Gods (stil'd the revengers of Innocents) will receive incense from a parricide hand? This sacriledg would draw their punishment upon you. Look upon him but as an object of their hate, believe (with us) that the good destinie of Rome in all these three fights did more then his arm, since these same Gods (the Authors of his Victory) permitted that he suddenly should fully the glory of it; and that such a courage, after so brave an Act, should in one day

be worthy of a Triumph, and of Death. It rests (Sir) that your Sentence decide this: Rome never saw a parricide till now. Fear what may follow, and Heaven's anger; save us from his unnaturall hand, and fear the Gods.

Tull.

Defend your self, Horatius.

Horat.

To what purpose shall I defend me? Sir, you know the action, as being told it now: what you think of it must be a law to me. One ill defends himself against th' opinion of a King: and th' innocentest soul that e'r was born is guiltie, if he judg him to be so: It is a crime t' excuse himself unto him. Our blood's his goods, he can dispose thereof; and we must think, that when he doth do so, he deprives not himself without just cause. Then (Sir) pronounce, I'm ready to obey. Others love life, and I am bound to hate it. I reproach not Valerius heat, which makes him, loving the Sister, to accuse the Brother: my wishes at this time conspire with his: he asks my death, 'tis that which I desire: We differ onely in this point, that I seek to conserve my honour in't, and he to perish it. Sir, seldome is a subject offer'd to shew the vertue of a great and noble heart complete: according to occasion, it acts or more or lesse, and appears strong or weak unto the eyes of those that are her witnesses: The people, that onely looks upon the outside, judgeth its force by its effects, and dares to think, by an ill maxime, that who doth a miracle, must do it still: After a complete action, high and illustrious, what glitters lesse ill answereth their expectation: they would have us to be all times alike,

and in all places: they examine not if one could better do then, nor that, if they see not still a wonder, the occasion is lesse, and Vertue equall: Their injustice destroyes great names; the honour of the first attchievements is forgotten by the second: and when renown is pass'd beyond the mean, if we'll not fall thence, we must act no more. I will not boast th' exploits (Sir) of my arm, your Majestie hath seen my three encounters; hardly again shall I meet any such, nor e'r the like occasion will be to shew my courage, and crown the successe; so that to leave here an illustrious memory, death onely now can keep alive my glory, and I must have it too as soon as I have conquer'd; for I have outliv'd my honour: Such one as I beholds his glory perish'd, when he falls into any ignominie: and my hand would have freed me on't already, if my bloud durst come forth without your leave: as it belongs to you, you must dispose on't; to shed it otherwise, is to rob you of it. Rome wants not store of generous warriours; enough besides me will sustaine your Laurels; henceforward let your Majestie dispense with me herein. And if what I have done deserves a recompence, permit, great King, that with this conquering arm I sacrifice me to my Glory, not my Sisters cryes.

SCENA III.

Tullus, Valerius, The old Horatius, Horatius, Sabina, Julia.

Sab.

Sir, hear Sabina, and see in her soul the sorrows of a Sister and a Wife, who (wholly desolate) at your sacred feet laments her Family, and fears her Husband. It is not that I would by any artifice endeavour to take out o'th' hand of Justice a guilty person; Whatsoever he hath done for you, use him as such a one; and punish (Sir) in me this noble Criminall: with my unfortunate blood wash off his crime. You shall not change your Victime for all that, nor shall you herein take an unjust pitie, but sacrifice the dearest mosty of him. The knots of marriage, and his extreme love makes him live more in me, then in himself; and if you grant that I shall die to day, he will die more in me then in himself: the death which I beg, and would fain obtain, will raise his punishment, and finish mine. See the excesse (Sir) of my sad afflictions, and the deplorable condition whereto I am reduc'd: What honour is it t'embrace a man whose sword hath cut the thred of of all my family? and what impiety to hate a Husband for his service to you, his Country, and his Friends? What? shall I love an arm stain'd with the blood of all my Brothers? Shall I not love an Husband that doth put a period to our common miseries? O (Sir) deliver me by an happy death both from the crimes of loving, and not loving.

I shall esteem that Sentence a great favour: My hand can give me what I crave of you, but this death shall be much more sweet unto me, if I can free my Husband from his shame, and by my bloud appease the anger of the Gods, in dying satisfie the Ghost of his offended Sister, and conserve to Rome so good and glorious a Defender.

Old Horat.

Sir, it concerns me then to give an answer unto Valerius; I see my children conspire with him against me, and all three would ruine me: they arm themselves unjustly against that little blood's left in my house. Thou that by griefs (contrary to thy duty) would'st leave thy Husband to go to thy Brothers, go rather to consult their generous Ghosts. 'Tis true, they are dead; but they dy'd for Alba, and hold them happy in't, since Heav'n would have it, she should be subject: if that any sentiment remaineth after life lost, this misfortune seems lesse, and its stroaks not so rigorous, since all the honour of it falls on us. All three will disapprove thy grief, thy tears and sighs, they will condemn the horrour which thou hast of a brave Husband. Be their Sister (Sabia) and observe thy duty like them. Valerius in vain lifts up himself 'gainst this dear Husband: a first motion was never held a crime; and praise is due, in stead of punishment, when Vertue onely produceth this first motion. To love our enemies even with idolatry, madly to curse the Country for their death, to wish the State an everlasting ruine, is that which we name crime, and that which he hath punished; the onely love of Rome provok'd his arm: He should be innocent, if he had lov'd her lesse. What have I said, Sir?

he is so, and this my paternall arm had punish'd him already, were he guilty; I would have better used the full power I have upon him by the lawes of birth. I love honour too well, and am not of a quality to suffer in my blood affront or crime: of this I do desire no other witnesse but Valerius: he saw what rigorous entertainment I prepar'd to give my Son, when ignorant as yet of half the combat, I believ'd that by his flight he had betray'd the State. What makes him so officiously to trouble himself with the cares of my Family? What makes him to desire (in spight of me) to vindicate my daughter? By what reason in her just death takes he an interest a father doth not meddle with? He fears, that after this severity to his Sister, he'll not spare others. Sir, we have no part but in the shame of ours, and in what manner another may act, what concerns us not makes us not blush. Valerius, thou maist weep, and in Horatius sight; he takes no interest but in the crimes of his race; who is not of his blood, can do no injury unto th' immortall Lawrels that impale his brow. Ye Lawrels, sacred boughs, which envie would reduce to dust, you that conserve his head from the confounding thunder, will you leave him unto the infamous Ax, that makes offenders fall underneath the executioners hands? Romans, will you permit that they should sacrifice a man, without whom Rome had not been Rome at this time, and that any Roman should traduce the glory of a Conquerour, to whom all owe so fair a character? Tell us, Valerius, tell, since he must perish,

where thou wouldst chuse fit a place for his punishment. Is it within these walls, which many thousands of voyces make resound yet with the noise of his exploits? Is it without the walls, in the midst of those places which smoak yet with the blood of the conquer'd Curiatii, between their three tombs, in that field of honour, the witnesse of his valour and our happinesse? Thou canst not from his Victory conceal his Punishment: within the walls, without them all speak his glory; all oppose themselves to the indeavour of thy unjust love, which would with such a glorious blood defile so fair a day. Alba cannot endure so sad a spectacle, and Rome with her tears will put an obstacle to 't. But (Royall Sir) you will prevent them, and by a just sentence you can embrace her interest much better: What he hath done for her, he can yet do; he can secure her still from adverse fortune: despair not yet (Sir) of my feeble years. Rome now hath seen me father of four children, three in her quarrell are already dead, there is but one left me; keep him for her, remove not from her walls so strong a prop; and suffer me t' addresse my self unto him, to make an end. Horatius, do not think the stupid people should be absolute masters of a substantiall honour; their vain voice tumultnous enough makes often noise: but as a moment raiseth it, a moment destroyes it; and whatever they contribute to our renown, i'th'twinkling of an eye it vanisheth to smoak: It doth belong to Kings, to great ones, to accomplish'd spirits to see that Vertue in its least effects be full; it is from them alone that we receive true glory; they alone assure

the memory of the true Heroes, live still in Horatius, and still after them. Thy name shall remain great, illustrious, famous, though the occasion, lesse high or resplendent, deceives the unjust expectation of th'ignorant vulgar. Hate then life no more; at least live for me, and to serve thy King and Country longer. Sir, I've said too much; but th' affair concerns you, and all Rome speaks by my mouth.

Val.

Sir, suffer me—

Tull.

Valerius, it is enough, your sound discourse by theirs is not defac'd: I keep yet in my spirit the pressing'st reasons on't, and all your arguments are present with me still: this hainous action (almost before our eyes) doth injure nature, and even wounds the Gods. A sudden motion of anger, that produceth such a crime, cannot excuse him lawfully; the Lawes that are the least severe condemn the act, and if we follow them, he's worthy death: If otherwise we will look on the guilty, this crime, though great, hainous and inexcusable, proceeds from the same sword and arm that makes me now Master of two States: Two Scepters in my hand, and Alba subject unto Rome, speak highly in the favour of his life. Had it not been for him, I should have yeelded obedience, whereas now I give forth lawes; and should be subject, whereas now I am twice Soveraigne. There are in all the Provinces many good subjects, that by feeble prayers only acquit themselves toward their Princes: all can love them, but all cannot assure their States by some illustrious actions; and th'art and power to establish Crowns are gifts which heav'n gives but to some choice persons:

such servants are the wealth and strength of Kings, and also are to be above the Lawes; let them be silent then, let Rome dissemble what from her birth she sees in Romulus; She can well suffer in her Liberator, what she hath suffered in her first Authour. Live then Horatius, live magnanimous souldier, thy Vertue sets thy glory 'bove thy crime, Its generous heat produced thy offence; th'effect of such a fair cause must be suffer'd. Live to doe service to the State, but love Valerius; let not any hate nor anger remain between you, and whether he follow'd or love, or duty, without any sentiment resolve to see him. Hearken lesse (Sabina) unto the grief that presseth you; remove from this great heart those marks of imbecilitie: in drying of your tears, you'l shew your self true Sister of those Brothers you lament. But we do owe to morrow to the Gods a sacrifice, and should have heaven but little propitious to us, if our Priests before the action, finde not out the means to purge it. His father shall take care on't, I believe, it will not be hard for him to appease Camilla's Ghost. I do deplore her fortune, and to give to it what her amorous spirit may happily desire, (since in one day an equall heat of one and the same zeal finish'd her Lovers destinie and hers) it is our will that one day, as a witnesse of their two deaths, may see in the earth's wombe their bodies laid, and shut up in one tombe.

The King riseth and all follow him but Julia.

Jul. Camilla,

thus heaven well advertis'd thee what tragicall events were to succeed; but alwayes it conceals a part o'th'secret even from the most refin'd and clearest spirits.

It seem'd to speak of thy approaching marriage, it seem'd to promise all things to thy prayers; and hiding so from us thy sudden death, it's voyce too truly hath deceiv'd our sense.

Thy pray'rs are heard, Alba and Rome shall be to morrow in a fair Confaederacie; And thou with Curiatius shalt be joyn'd, never to part: So have the Gods enjoyn'd.

FINIS.