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

Author: Corneille, Pierre, 1606-1684.1671

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HORACE, A French Tragedy OF Monsieur CORNEILLE.

ENGLISHED By CHARLES COTTON, Esq

LONDON, Printed for Henry Brome, at the Gun at the West-end of St. Pauls, 1671.

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To my Dear Sister Mrs. Stanhope Hutchinson.

DEAR SISTER,

HAD I not when I first undertook this Poem promis'd my self a better success from the Attempt, then I find upon a review of it now it is done, it had never been design'd for you, who deserve much better than the best endeavour of a more happy Translator than I pretend to be: But if I had before too good an opinion of my self, I do yet retain such a respect for you, as would defend your name from so mean a Dedication as this; did I not find my self oblig'd by a vain and imprudent promise to present you what I might have foreseen would at the best prove very unfit to kiss your hands, who ever entertain your self with the best things, and in that discover the best judgment to choose them. However seeing I have made you a promise of this Play, that I want the [Page] Art or the Patience to mend it, and that you are only to suffer a private injury, since it is never to be made publick: let me beg of you to accept it, with the same sweetness you usually entertain the applications of other your Friends and Servants, who admire and love you: by which acceptance (besides the honour and obligation you will multiply upon me) you will do a great justice to your self, in being favourable to a man, that (if he could write equal to the best) would lay his labours at your feet with the same humility, and affection, that he now subscribes himself,

Dear Sister,

Your most obedient, and most humble Servant, CHARLES COTTON.

Beresford, Nov. 7. 1665.

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TO THE READER.

IT is evident enough without further Apology, both by the Epistle before this Tragedy, and by the Date that Dedication bears, that neither at that time, nor of several years after, it was ever intended for the publick View; and if it was a piece of discretion to conceal it then, it had been a much greater to have supprest it now, that the same Play is already extant from a far better hand; I mean that of the incomparable Mrs. Philipps, to whose vertuous memory I shall ever pay so great a respect, that I should take him for a friendly Interpreter, who would conceive I had publish'd this to no other end, than to do her honour; that is, to make the excellency of her Poem more manifest by the imperfections of this of mine: But in truth I am so far from doing it out of any kind of design, that I am no more concern'd in this Impression, than my consent comes to, and that rather out of complacency to some, who have great authority with me, than out of any satisfaction in my own judgment, that I ought in prudence to do it.

It was long since writ for the private divertisement of a fair young Lady, and ever since it had the honour first [Page] to kiss her hands, so entirely hers, that I did not reserve so much as the Broüillon to my self; so that her leave, as principally necessary, was first to be obtain'd: neither was it without some difficulty, that she was prevail'd upon to give her consent, she being at the first proposal (either out of modesty (of which vertue no one has a more commendable share) or out of tenderness to her own reputation, or to mine) not very willing to have it printed: But at last (I know not how) she being overcome, and I (who had before parted with my Title) having now nothing to do to oppose it, it was condemn'd to the Press.

Upon these terms then you have it openly expos'd for every one to read, or let alone, like, or dislike at his own pleasure, or fancy: neither shall I say more of it than this, that I have seen some undertakings as ill perform'd, and that if this were to do again, I should think to do it much better; only I think it fit to acquaint my Reader, that the Songs and Chorus to the Acts are all wholly my own; which whether the best, or worst part of the Book, he has free liberty to judge.

However the world will please to receive it, I shall be as indifferent as any man in such a case can be; neither shall I be angry with any one for telling me my faults, provided he do it after such a manner, as shall discover he has a desire I should mend them; his reproof will otherwise degenerate into reproach, and that is never, even by the best natur'd people, to be very kindly taken.

To conclude, and to say something for the encouragement of the Readers, such as sometimes use to throw [Page] away an hour upon a Play (however this shall succeed in their opinion) they can complain of no extraordinary loss of time; and as to the rest, the price of the Book will be so moderate, as can arise to no great matter of repentance.

Beresford, October 8. 1670.

ERRATA.

PAge 11. line 23. for this, read his. p. 21. l. 14. for Love, r. Iove. p. 28. l. 7. for brake, r. break▪ l. 9. for feer, r free. l. p: nult. for contests, r. contest. p. 38. l. 4. for Triumph, r. Triumphs. p. 42. l. 12. for with the, r. which the. p. 19. l. 10. for direct, r. direst, p. 51. l. 7. for these, r. those. l. 24. for this, r thy. p. 60. l. 15. r. before. p. 63. l. ult. for live in, r. living. p. 66. l. 28. for the Husband, r. her Husband. p. 67. l. 9. for try, r. dry. p 68. l. 16. for bash, r. blush. p. 69. l. 26. for quarrels, r. quarrel. p. 70. l. 18. for the bravest, r. her bravest.

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The ACTORS Names.

Tullius King of Rome.
Horace the Father, an old Roman Knight.
Horace the Son, Husband to Sabina.
Curiace, a Gentleman of Alba, Servant to Camilla.
Valerius, a Roman Knight, Pretender to Camilla.
Sabina an Alban Lady, Wife to Horace the Son.
Camilla a Roman Lady, Sister to Horace, and in love with Curiace.
Julia a Roman Lady, Confident to Sabina, and Camilla.
Flavian an Alban Souldier.
Proculus a Roman Souldier.
Guards and Attendants.

The Scene Rome, in a Parlour of Horatio's House.

[Page 1]

HORACE.

Actus Primus.

Scena Prima.Sabina. Iulia.
Sabina.
APprove my frailty, and permit my care,
In such mishaps as these, too just they are;
When threatning dangers do impend so near,
The truest Courage is allow'd to fear.
Nor can a spirit masculine, and brave,
As noblest Hero's would pretend to have,
In such a torrent of calamities,
Practise its vertue without some surprize.
Though mine by these Alarms be shook, those fears
Oppress my heart, prevail not with my tears:
But whilst my sorrows importune the skies,
My resolution governs in mine eyes.
When there we stop the souls afflictions, then
We more than women do, if less than men;
To check our tears at such a time is proof
In our weak Sex of Fortitude enough.
Iulia.
It is, and more than common souls can do,
Who from vain trifles, prophesie their woe▪
But a great heart disdains a fear so base,
And dares to hope in the most desp'rate case.
Before our walls both Camps embattel'd are:
But 
Rome yet knows not the mischance of War;
Far then from doubt, we should applaud her might,


[Page 2] 
Rome steps to greatness when she goes to fight.
Then from your bosom banish fears so vain,
To nourish thoughts worthy a Roman's name.
Sabina.
Since my Lord's Roman, I am so, alas!

Hymen has made me 
Rome's concerns embrace:
But 'twere to captivate my soul, should he
Make me renounce my Countrey's memory.

Alba, where first my infant breath I drew,

Alba my Country, and my first Love too,
When War 'twixt us, and thee proclaim'd I hear
Alike I victory, and ruine fear;
And 
Rome if this thou Treason call, create
Thy self such foes, as I may justly hate.
When from thy prospect two great Camps appear,
Three Brothers there engag'd, a Husband here;
Can I divide my wishes then, and be
Thy votress, 
Rome, without impiety?
I know that in this non-age of thy State,
Thou must by conqu'ring Arms, secure its height▪
I know 'twill rise, and that the Destinies
A nobler scope for thy command, than this
Of 
Latium points thee: That by fates decree
The world's vast Empire is entail'd on thee,
And that thou canst not, but by War advance
Thy Title to this great Inheritance.
Far from opposing then that generous fire,
That, Fate obeying, strives to make thee higher,
I now could wish, thy daring Troops to see
Crown'd with a Pyrrhenean victory.
Send out to furthest East those Bands of thine,
And with Pavillions spread the Banks of 
Rhine;
Go on till with invading steps thou make
Th'▪ 
Herculean Pillars at thy Marches shake:
But 
Alba spare for 
Romulus his sake.
Ingrate! remember to her Kings that thou,
Thy Name, thy Walls, and thy first Laws dost owe:

Alba's thy Parent, let that stay thy hand,
E're in thy Mothers Womb, thou sheath thy brand.


[Page 3] Elsewhere thy still victorious Arms translate,
Shee'l smile to see her Off-spring fortunate,
And ravish'd with a fond maternal care,
Shee'l pray for thee, if thou bee'st just to her.
Iulia.
This strange discourse surprizes me, and that
The more to see you now so passionate,
Who when this War broke out, and ever since
Have born your self with that indifference,
As you had been 
Rome's daughter, and ally'd
Unto no interest in the world beside.
I then admir'd your vertue that could bow
Your dearest interests to your Husbands so,
And form'd my comforts to you in your moan,
As if your tears had been for 
Rome alone.
Sabina.
Whilst in light skirmishes they fought it so
As threat'ned no side with an overthrow,
And whilst my griefs were sooth'd with hopes of peace,
I wholly 
Roman did my self profess.
If 
Romes success I look'd on with disgust,
I blam'd that private envy as unjust.
And if when Fortune took my Brothers part,
I felt a guilty joy steal o're my heart;
With reason straight that joy I overcame,
And wept when Glory triumph'd in their name:
But now that one War's utmost chance must bear,
That 
Alba stoop to 
Rome, or 
Rome to her:
And that, the Battel past, there rests no more
Hope for the Conquer'd; bounds to th' Conqueror:
I barbarously should my Country hate,
Could I all Roman be in this estate;
Or beg a triumph of the gods for 
Rome,
Which through a torrent of my blood must come.
I wean my self from one man's interest, and
'Twixt 
Rome and 
Alba now do neuter stand;
I fear for both the issue of this War,
And will for them Fortune declines, declare;
Equal till then, and then in the disgrace
I'le only share, and let the glory pass;


[Page 4] And whilst the day's deciding will prepare,
For th' Vanquisht tears, hate for the Vanquisher▪
Iulia.
What contraries do humane brests invade!
By several passions, several minds are sway'd;
And in this great affair 
Camilla's brest
After another manner is possest.
Her Brother is your Husband, yours to her
A servant is, in a concern as dear:
Yet with an eye from yours far different, she
Her blood engag'd against her love can see.
Whilst you maintain'd a courage, that throughout
Was brave and Roman, hers irresolute,
And fearful, dreaded petty skirmishes,
Trembling to think of either sides success.
Unto the Conquer'd still she gave her tears,
Fomenting so her endless griefs, and fears:
But when she now a day appointed knew,
And that a final Battel must ensue,
A sudden joy upon her forehead shone.
Sabina.
Alas! I fear that alteration!
With an unusual freedom yesterday
To young 
Valerius courtship she gave way,
And my poor Brother's interest laid apart,
This Rival doubtless triumphs in her heart.
Long absence joyn'd with present objects do
Debauch her heart from him she gave it to.
Excuse this passion in a Sisters care,
My love to him thus makes me doubt in her:
I raise my jealousie from grounds too light,
Unapt for changes are the days of fight.
In such a time as this few souls are fit,
New wounds, or new affections to admit;
And in the noise of War our passions move
With other thoughts, other concerns than love▪
But then we put not on such gayeties,
Such entertainments and delights as these.
Iulia.
To me the cause is equally as strange,
Nor can I guess at her so sudden change,


[Page 5] It is enough in dangers of this kind
To see, expect, and moderate the mind:
But to arrive at joy is sure too much.
Sabina.
See a good Genius brings her to the touch.
Try her in this affair, and home; I know
Shee'l nothing hide from you, she loves you so.
I'le leave you! Sister, pray thee entertain

Iulia a while, my sorrow is my shame.
And my poor heart opprest with griefs, and fears
Seeks solitude to hide my sighs, and tears.

Scena Secunda.

Camilla. Iulia.

Camilla.

Am I so fit for talk? does she believe

I have not equally a cause to grieve?

Or that less feeling in calamity,

I in discourse shed fewer tears then she?

My fears are great as hers, I must, Heav'n knows

As well as she in either party lose:

My Country by my love must be o'rerhrown,

Or he must die defending of his own;

And in this sad necessity of fate

Challenge my sorrow, or incur my hate.

Iulia.

Yet she the stricter fortune must obey,

Husbands we cannot change, Servants we may.

Wave Curiace, and accept Valerius love;

That way you will half of your fears remove,

And your revolted heart call'd back to Rome,

Shall fear no loss abroad, but love at home.

Camilla.

Deliberate better counsels for your friend,

Lament my fate, but teach me not t' offend;

For though my frailty ill these mischiefs bear,

'Tis better suffer, than deserve them far.

Iulia.

Have prudent changes, crimes reputed been?

Camilla.

Is breach of Faith a pardonable sin?

Iulia.

[Page 6]

T'a publick Foe what can oblige our troth?

Camilla.

Who can absolve us from a private Oath?

Iulia.

Come you would hide a thing that is too plain,

I saw you late Valerius entertain

With that obliging fashion as might move

His forward hopes to glory in his love.

Camilla.

If I receiv'd him with a chearful grace,
There nothing in't to his advantage was,
Another th' object was of that delight,
And learn the truth to set your judgment right:
That I to 
Curiace may no longer be
Suspected of so base a levity.
His Sister had not with her beauties charms,
Fully six months enrich'd my Brothers arms,
Before he won my Father to proclaim,
My person should reward his vertuous flame.
This happy day produc'd unhappy things,
In joyning us, it did divide our Kings.

Hymen, and War were the products of one
Unhappy moments resolution.
One instant rais'd our flatt'ring hopes on high,
And the same instant beat them from the sky.
As soon as promis'd it destroy'd our joys,
And soon as Lovers, made us Enemies.
In that estate how boundless, and extream
Our sorrows were, how he did heav'n blaspheme,
And what sad show'rs stream'd from my weeping eye,
I need not tell you, you your self were by.
You since have still my souls afflictions seen,
You know what still my prayers for peace have been,
And with what tears on every accident,
I did, or 
Rome, or my dear Love lament.
Tir'd with delays, at last extream despair
Has forc'd me to the Oracle repair;
And judge by what came yesterday from thence,
If to my joy I had not just pretence.
That Greek long famous for his Oracles,
At 
Aventinus foot who Fates foretells,


[Page 7] He whom 
Apollo ne're inspir'd with lies,
The end of all my woes thus prophesies.

"Alba and 
Rome to morrow shall surcease
"Their jars, thy vows are heard, they shall have peace,
"And thou be joyn'd to 
Curiace in a tye
"Never to be dissolv'd by Destiny.

This Oracle did my assurance breed,
And as the answer did my hopes exceed,
I gave my soul up to delights, that far
Exceed the happiest Lovers joys that are.
How I was lost in rapture you may guess,
And by th' effects, measure my joys excess,
I saw 
Valerius and his company
Was not distasteful as it us'd to be;
He courted me without offence, alas!
I ne're consider'd whose the courtship was.
I could nor coldness show, nor disesteem,
For him I saw, to me did 
Curiace seem:
All that was said to me seem'd to proclaim
The truth, and vigour of his loyal flame,
And all I said was purpos'd to assure

Curiace my faith was permanent, and pure.
The fatal Battel must to day be fought,
I heard it yesterday, but mark'd it not.
Charm'd with the thoughts of happiness, and peace,
My soul rejected such sad thoughts as these:
But night has banish'd hence those false delights,
A thousand fearful dreams of horrid sights,
A thousand piles of slaughter did appear,
That have subdu'd my joy, restor'd my fear.
I saw a stream of blood reek from the slain,
A phantasm rising, disappear'd again;
Each other did confound, and each illusion
Doubled my terror by their strange confusion.

Iulia.

Dreams contrary expound themselves you know▪

Camilla.

I should believe so, since I wish it so▪

[Page 8] But maugre all my vows, I find we are,

T' expect no peace, but a destructive War.

Iulia.

This Battel will conclude it in a peace.

Camilla.

Long live the ill that needs such remedies.

Be it that Rome must fall, or Alba lose,

Never, dear Love, expect me for thy Spouse:

Never, oh! never! can that claim become

A man that Conqueror is, or Slave of Rome?

But what new object does my sight surprize!

Is it my Curiace, may I trust my eyes?

Scena Tertia.Curiace. Camilla. Iulia.
Curiace.
Suspect them not 
Camilla, he is come,
That nor the Conquerour is, nor Slave of 
Rome;
That e're my hands in Roman blood be stain'd,
Or bruis'd in Slavery, cease to apprehend;
I ever did believe thy generous love
To 
Rome, and glory would so constant prove,
As that thou would'st in piety despise
My shameful chains, and hate my victories.
And as in this extremity I did
Alike captivity, and conquest dread—
Camilla.
Enough my 
Curiace, I the rest divine,
I know that thou a Battel dost decline;
Which to thy interest must so fatal be,
And that thy heart wholly resign'd to me,
Fearing to involve me in my Countrys harm,
From 
Alba ravishes thy conqu'ring arm.
Let others here censure thy noble name,
And if they will, thy loyal passion blame;
'Tis that 
Camilla highly must approve,
The more thou lov'st, the more she ought to love.
And if the place that gave thee Being claim
A duty 'gainst the interest of thy flame,


[Page 9] The more thou quitst on my account still proves,
All other interests bow unto thy loves:
But hast thou seen my Father, does he bless
With fair, and free allowance, this access?
Does he not for the publick cause declare,
And to his Daughters, 
Romes concerns prefer?
May we in fine presume our selves secure?
Is our long wisht for happiness made sure?
Did he receive thee at a Father's rate,
Or as a foe unto the 
Roman State?
Curiace.
It was so like a Father to his Son,
As spoke his joy sincere, and not put on:
But when I under his protection came,
'Twas by no Treachery, that might blot my name▪
My Countrys int'rest I by no means quit,
Adoring you, I love my Honour yet:
Throughout this fatal War I still have been,
As a true Lover, a good Citizen.
'Twixt Love, and 
Alba, I compos'd the War,
I sigh't for you, whilst I did fight for her:
And if again new mischiefs must ensue,
I'le fight for her, whilst I do sigh for you.
For maugre Love, and all thy beauties charms,
Should War continue I must be in Arms:
But 'tis through Peace that I thus priviledg'd am,
'Tis Peace has thus oblig'd our mutual flame.
Camilla.
Peace, 'tis a miracle exceeds belief!
Does Heav'n at last commiserate my grief?
Iulia.
Suspend a while your sorrow, and forbear
To doubt the Oracle that cannot erre;
And let us hear by what admir'd success
The hour of Battel has produc'd this Peace.
Cariace.
Who could have hop'd it, Gods! Both Armies me▪
Prepar'd for Battel with an equal heat;
Their eyes already threatned Death, and they
Impatient only for the signal stay:
When our Dictator single did advance,
And as a sign of silence wav'd his Lance;


[Page 10] Which soon obtain'd: "Romans, quoth he, what rage,
"What fury makes us thus to War engage?
"At last let Reason calm these rude alarms,
"Our vertuous Daughters warm the 
Romans Arms.
"
Hymen has so conjoyn'd us, there are few
"Amongst our Sons, but are your Nephews too.
"We but one people in two Cities are,
"One race, one blood, why then this Civil War?
"Where conquer'd lives weaken the Conquerers,
"And the best triumph is bedew'd with tears.
"The common enemy does expecting stay,
"Till one sides ruine, render both his prey,
"Tyr'd broken Conqueror, who nought enjoys:
"But having slain his friends, himself destroys.
"They of our broils too long have profit made,
"With powers conjoyn'd 'tis time we them invade,
"And dam those jars, where black oblivion lies,
"That of good Souldiers make so ill Allies.
"Or if ambition of vain Rule alarm,
"These noble Troops of yours, and ours to arm;
"Yet if a little blood may purchase peace,
"That blood shall piece us, and the War shall cease.
"Let each side choose some Champions out, and tye
"Their Fortunes to those Champions Destiny.
"And as in them Fate shall dispose the day,
"The Vanquisht shall the Vanquisher obey▪
"But so as Souldiers honours may befit,
"To bow as Subjects, not as Slaves submit,
"Without disgrace, tribute, or other terms,
"Save always to assist the Conquerours Arms.
"So of two States, we shall one Empire make.
This said, each breast joys palpitations shake,
Now whilst they face, each can a Brother spy,
Kinsman, or Friend rank'd with the Enemy:
They wonder now 'twas not before foreseen,
How foul their parricides must needs have been,
And shew at once in one distracted brow,
How much the fair proposal they allow;


[Page 11] And how with horror now they disapprove
All thoughts of Battel, after thoughts of Love▪
Th' offer's at last receiv'd, and the wisht Peace
As soon was sworn to, the Conditions these.
Three for the whole the Combat must assay,
Chosen from either side, and that they may
With better conduct to the choice proceed,
The Generals are on a short truce agreed.
Yours in the Senate is, ours in his Tent.
Camilla.
Blest Gods! ye have a timely succour sent.
Curiace.
By joynt decree within two short-liv'd hours
Our Champions Fortune must determine ours.
Mean while in freedom we expect the doom,

Rome in our Camp is, and our Camp in 
Rome.
Free entercourse on both sides granted is,
Both sides seek friends amongst their enemies.
I hither have follow'd your Brothers in,
And Fortune to my vows so just has bin,
That he who gave my fair 
Camilla life
Says she to morrow shall be made my Wife,
And you, I hope, will not recede from this.
Camilla.
Obedience still a Daughters duty is.
Curiace.
Come then my Sweet, and from this mouth receive
That fair consent he is so free to give,
That dear command, which once pronounc'd will bless
My love with title to my happiness.
Camilla.
I go along with you to welcome home
My noble Brother's safe return to 
Rome;
And once again to hear the happy news,
Confirm'd by them, of this auspicious truce▪
Iulia.
Go, and the while I'le on the Altars raise
In your behalf a Sacrifice of praise.

[Page 12]

SONG.

(1.)
SO wretched are the sick of Love,
No Herb has vertue to remove
The growing ill:
But still,
The more we Remedies oppose
The Fever more malignant grows.
Doubts do but add unto desire,
Like Oyl that's thrown upon the fire,
Which serves to make the flame aspire;
And not t' extinguish it:
Love has its trembling, and its burning fit▪

(2.)
Fruition which the Sick propose
To end, and recompence their woes,
But turns them o're
To more.
And curing one, does but prepare
A new, perhaps a greater care.
Enjoyment even in the chaste,
Pleases, not satisfies the taste,
And licens'd Love the worst can fast.
Such is the Lovers state,
Pining and pleas'd, alike unfortunate.

(3.)

Sabina and 
Camilla share
An equal interest in care,
Fear hath each brest
Possest.
In different Fortunes, one pure flame
Makes their unhappiness the same.


[Page 13] Love begets fear, fear grief creates,
Passion still passion animates,
Love will be love in all estates:
His power still is one
Whether in hope, or in possession.

CHORVS.
TOO weak are humane eyes to pry
Into the shades of Destiny:
Fate spreads a curtain to our sight,
Through which a faint imperfect light,
Serves only to perplex our way,
As blinking Meteors make us stray:
And what the jugling Priest foretells,
In his ambiguous Oracles,
Deludes our judgments whilst he shrouds
Vain riddles in mysterious clouds.
Wisely did providence deny
To humane curiosity,
That only priviledge to look
In Destinies eternal Book;
For should we know our periods, then
We should do more or less then men.
Ah poor 
Camilla! how art thou
Exalted in thy fortune now!
Whom Fate so soon will headlong throw
Into a precipice of woe!
Betray'd by Riddles, and Loves charms,
Thou dream'st thy self in 
Curiace arms,
Wrapt in chast pleasures, when alas!
Thou only must could death embrace.
To vertue sure 'twas an offence,
So to abuse thy innocence;
And to raise up thy hope so high,
Was an inhumane cruelty.
We to our selves ev'n in our fears
Are flattering interpreters,


[Page 14] And need no fraud when Death's so nigh
To rock us in security.
What could the angry powers move
In fair 
Camilla's vertuous Love?
Or what hath chaste 
Sabina done
To draw so dire a ruine on?
Vain men misled by vitious wills,
Commit those Heav'n-offending ills,
Which pull down vengeance from the sky
To punish proud mortality:
But what ye Gods can women do,
Soft women to provoke you so?
It is for 
Rome that they must be
Involv'd in 
Alba's Destiny;
Proud 
Rome for prouder Empire tries,
And laid in blood, by blood must rise;

Alba must truckle, 'tis decreed,
That 
Rome may triumph, she must bleed:
Imperious Fate will bear the sway,
Whose power all earthly powers obey.

The End of the First Act.

Actus Secundus.

Scena Prima.Horace. Curiace.
Curiace,
I See your merits sway the publick voice;

Rome durst rely upon no other choice:
Unto your Valours this proud Town alone
Dares trust her cause and reputation;
And whilst she only on your Arms relies,
With one sole House braves all our Families.
We shall believe, since you the weight must bear,
Save 
Horace Sons, that there no 
Romans are:


[Page 15] This choice three Houses might have rais'd to fame,
Have giv'n each a high and glorious name,
And that Renown which yours alone must be,
Had been enough to have eterniz'd three.
Nor can I, since by Fortune and my flame
I in your House so interested am;
But I must share, as much as in me lies,
Your Fam'lies glory in this enterprize.
Yet the respect I to my Country bear,
Mixes that pleasure with an honest fear.
The War has rais'd your name unto that height,
I fear for 
Alba, and foresee her fate.
Since you must fight, her interest must bow,
Fate has in choosing you determin'd so.
It is decreed, I see you must o'recome,
And I conclude my self a slave to 
Rome.
Horace.
You should 
Rome pity, not for 
Alba fear,
In her ill choice did you consider her;
In 
Rome it doubtless a great blindness is,
To have such choice, and choose so far amiss.
Of her brave Sons a thousand worthier be
So brave a quarrel to maintain, than we;
Yet though the Combat promise me a Shroud,
That I am chosen makes me justly proud;
And the assurance of my soul is such,
As from my little Valour hopes for much.
Nor can I (be what will th' intent of Fate)
Conclude my self a slave to 
Alba yet.

Rome has o'revalu'd my desert, but I
Will amply justifie it all, or dye.
"Who'l dye, or conquer, seldom conquer'd is.
That brave despair but rarely perishes;

Rome (fall what will) shall never subject bow,
Till my last groans proclaim my overthrow.
Curiace.
Alas! in that my state compassion needs,
What 
Alba covets most, my friendship dreads.
Wretched extreams! 
Alba must be enslav'd,
Or by thy noble persons ruine sav'd▪


[Page 16] She must or fail of her ambitious aim,
Or through thy blood wade to her lustful claim:
Which shall I pray for? what success attend?
This combat must in my affliction end.
I shall on either side have tears to shed,
And on both sides my prayers are limited.
Horace.
What would you be my enemy so far,
To mourn me falling in my Country's War?
That noble death allures a generous heart,
Tears do but injure his surviving part,
And I could falling kiss my Destiny,
Should 
Rome receive no greater loss than me.
Curiace.
And yet allow your friends their friendly care
In this brave death they to be pitied are;
The honour's yours, but theirs the loss, and what▪
Swells your renown, makes them unfortunate.
We part with all, when a true friend we lose.
But here comes 
Flavian, sure he brings me news.
Has 
Alba yet made choice of her three men?

Scena Secunda.

Horace. Curiace. Flavian.

Flavian.

I come to tell you.

Curiace.

Say, who are they then?

Flavian.

They've pitch'd on you, and your two Brothers.

Curiace.

Who?

Flavian.

On your two Brothers they have pitch'd, and you.

But why that look? why that contracted brow?

Do you alone th' election disallow?

Curiace.

No, but it does surprize me, I confess,

I think my self unworthy such a grace.

Flavian.

Shall the Dictator know you entertain

The quarrel coldly? for I must be plain,

This carriage does me something too surprize.

Curiace.

Tell him, that maugre Love, and all the ties,

[Page 17] Unite our Families, we three will fight

The three Horatii in Alba's right.

Flavian.

With them! tis much in a few words you say.

Curiace.

Carry my answer back, and leave us pray.

Scena Tertia.Horace. Curiace.
Curiace.
Henceforth I see Heav'n, Earth, and Hell contend▪
And whet their fury, which should most offend;
That Gods, and Men, Devils, and Fate prepare,
At once t' invade us with a general War;
And more t' afflict us in the state we are,
The Fates, and Devils, Gods, and Men, I dare:
Since all of dire in Heav'n, and Hell contain'd,
Weigh'd with this honour is to be disdain'd.
Horace.
Fate that expands the lists of honour, does
Brave matter to our constancy propose:
He has combin'd his mischief to make one,
May with our valour hold proportion,
And as he sees no common men we are;
So he no common fortune does prepare.
To fight an enemy for the publick good,
And with a stranger hazard blood for blood;
The poor effect of a mean vertue is,
Thousands have don't, and thousands may do this▪
For a man's Country 'tis so brave to die,
Who would not court so bright a Destiny?
But to the publick when we sacrifice
The thing we most do love, we most do prize;
To fight with a man's second self, his Friend,
And strive to kill him that would us defend,
A Wifes dear Brother, and a Sisters Love,
All ties, and all relations to remove,
And in our Country's Cause t' encounter him,
Whose blood we would with our own lives redeem:


[Page 18] This is a vertue none can boast, but we,
Few in this glory will our Rivals be:
And few mens hearts, so brave a courage own,
As dare pretend to such a high renown.
Curiace.
'Tis true, our names shall now immortal grow,
Th' occasion's fair, and we must seize it too,
Of a rare vertue we shall presidents be;
Yet there is something of barbarity
Mixt with your noble temper: few there are,
Even of those who most can do, and dare,
Would glory in this case, or choose to buy
At such a price, their immortality.
And whatsoever honour may redound,
'Twere better be obscure, than so renown'd;
For my part I dare say, and you might see't,
I made no very long debate of it.
Friendship, nor Love, nor our Alliance cou'd
Suspend my honour, nor corrupt my blood.
And since our 
Alba by this choice does shew,
She values me as high as 
Rome does you;
I think to do as much, and fight as home
In her behalf, as you shall do for 
Rome.
My heart is good enough, but yet I feel
I wear humanity about me still.
I see your honour in my ruine lies,
And that my glory in your fall must rise:
Ready t' espouse the Sister, I must kill
The Brother; and the blood I mix with, spill:
I know that by my Country's int'rest, I
Am sentenc'd to this sad necessity:
Thus though this task I fearless undertake,
My heart's o'recharg'd, and I with horror shake;
I do commiserate my own distress,
And envy those the War has laid in peace.
Not that I would decline the thing one jot;
For though it move me, it affrights me not:
I hug the honour I receive: but yet,
I must lament, what I must lose by it.


[Page 19] And since your 
Rome so strict in honour is,
As to pretend a vertue beyond this:
Thank Heav'n I am no 
Roman, since thereby
I may retain yet some humanity.
Horace.
Since you no 
Roman are, strive to put on
Resolves may make you worthy to be one;
And if you'l have your vertue rival mine,
Let it in equal resolution shine.
The constancy I boast of does permit
None of these weaknesses to mix with it.
And 'twere a stain to honour, when we yet
The lists scarce enter, should we now retreat.
Unto its Zenith our misfortunes got
I face it unconcern'd, and tremble not,
Against who e're 
Rome shall my Arms employ,
I blindly entertain the grace with joy.
The glory that attends, commands like these,
Should banish in us all reluctancies:
And who besides his Country in this case
Considers ought, is womanish, and base.
Our Country's sacred right empales at once,
All whatsoever obligations.

Rome has made choice of me; nor is it fit,
When she commands, further t' examine it.
With the same joy, I on my wedding night
Claspt fair 
Sabina, Il'e her Brother fight:
And to be short, since such must be our lot,

Alba has nam'd you, and I know you not.
Curiace.
I know you still, and in that knowledge feel
A sorrow wounding as your sharpest steel;
But never knew before I must confess,
A vertue so severe, as you profess:
It like our ills, doth in its Zenith sit,
And I admire, but shall not practise it.
Horace.
Oh! be not good perforce on any score,
But since the whining way affects you more,
Enjoy at liberty that bliss alone:
See where my Sister comes t' assist your moan,


[Page 20] I'le in to yours, and fit her mind to this,
To bear her self still like whose Wife she is;
To love you still, though by your hand I dye,
And bear her ills with 
Roman constancy.

Scena Quarta.

Horace. Curiace. Camilla.

Horace.

Have you heard Sister with the Alban Bands

How high your Servants reputation stands?

Camilla.

Brother, I've heard too much; how soon alas!

Has my false fortune chang'd her flattering face?

Horace.

Arm you with courage, such as may declare

On all events, that you my Sister are;

And if your Curiace through my ruine come,

Triumphant as a Conqueror back to Rome▪

Receive him not with an averted face,

May speak the memory of my disgrace:

But as a man whose Valour prompts him to

Such things as Tyrant Honour bids him do,

That serves his Country nobly, and does prove

By generous acts his title to your love.

Compleat, as if I liv'd, your Nuptial tye;

But if this Sword conclude his Destiny,

Receive my Victory at the same rate,

Without reproach for your brave Servants Fate▪

I see y'are sad, your eyes grow big with tears,

Pray entertain him with your feminine fears.

Now quarrel Heav'n, Earth, and Fate, but when

The Combat's past, no more remembrance then.

Speaking to Curiace.

I'le leave you but a moment, then we go,

Like friend with friend, to fight it foe to foe.

[Page 21]

Scena Quinta.Curiace. Camilla.
Camilla.
Wilt thou then go my soul? has such a shower
Wept by 
Camilla, no prevailing power?
Does brutish Honour rule thy heart, above
The vertuous interest of commanding Love?
Curiace.
Alas it is too plain, I see that I
Or by my grief, or 
Horace Sword must dye:
To this brave work I as unwilling go,
As Malefactors to the Wrack would do:
I curse my name a thousand times that has
Procur'd my merit such a fatal grace.
I curse my self, and fortune, and I hate
My treach'rous valour, since alone by that
My person's so considerable made,
And my despairing flame does Love invade,
It dares to challenge Heav'n as unjust;
And I lament us both, but go I must.
Camilla.
Oh no! I know thee better, now I see
Thou dost desire that I should sue to thee,
That the legitimate power which I claim
May to thy Country justifie thy fame.
Thy name's too great already, and thy acts
Have paid long since what 
Alba now exacts.
None better has maintain'd this quarrel, none
Has sacrific'd more lives, than thou hast done.
Thy name can rise no higher than it is,
Permit some other now t' ennoble his.
Curiace.
Shall I anothers brows incircled see,
With those immortal Laurels due to me?
Or this reproach from my brave Country hear,
That she had triumph'd, had I fought for her?
And whilst my valour's charm'd by Love, shall I
Blot my brave actions now with infamy?


[Page 22] No! since I thus am honour'd, 
Alba shall
By this sole arm's success, or rise, or fall.
I wear her fate, and this accompt I'le give,
To dye with honour, or with honour live.
Camilla.
Does honour blind thee so, thou wilt not see,
How poorly thou betray'st my love, and me?
Curiace.
My Love in this, necessity obeys,
And Sweet, e're I was yours, I 
Alba's was.
Camilla.
But in thy Country's quarrel to destroy
A Friend, a Brother, and thy Sisters joy,
Are things methinks, vertue should startle at.
Curiace.
Alas! 
Camilla in this sad estate,
We have no will, and in this hateful choice
Of 
Rome, and 
Alba, friendship has no voice.
Brother, and Friend, names so belov'd before,
Have lost their harmony, and are no more.
Camilla.
Wilt thou not bring me home 
Horatio's head,
And claim my person for the noble deed?
Curiace.
I dare not think on't, thus begirt with wo,
Hopeless to love, is all that I can do.
But my dear soul, you weep!
Camilla.
How can I choose,
When he I love does that I live refuse?
And when our 
Hymen does his Taper light,
Thou with thine own hand dost extinguish it.
Thy cruel heart, my ruine does decree,
And says it loves, when it doth murther me.
Curiace.
In lovers tears, what eloquence doth flow!
And beauty most prevails, when drest in wo,
At this sad sight my heart is tender grown,
I stagger in my resolution.
Assault no more my glory with your fears,
But let me save my vertue from your tears.
I feel she faints, and ill defends her place,
The more I'm yours, the less I'm 
Curiace.
Nor can a vertue ne're so firm, and strong,
Having with friendship combated so long;
And in that fight already weary grown,


[Page 23] Conquer at once Love, and compassion.
Go! hate me! shed no more vain tears for me!
Thus to your love, I oppose injury:
I better can resist your anger far,
And to deserve it more, I here declare,
I love you not. Call up your vengeance now,
And shoot me dead from your offended brow.
Are you insensible to a man ingrate?
Punish my base Apostasie with hate.
I love you not. Let that provoke your wrath!
Would you yet more? then I renounce my Faith.
Insolent vertue! to whose rigour, I
Am sacrific'd in this necessity,
Canst thou no more resist her tears, but by
The wretched help of such a vicious lye?
Camilla.
Commit no worse, and by the Gods w' adore,
Instead of hating thee, I'le love thee more.
Ingrate I'le hug thee if thy valour's pride
Court not the title of a Fratricide.
Why was I born a 
Roman? why not thou?
Then I with Laurels might adorn thy brow.
I should not then restrain, but prompt thee on,
And do for thee, as I've for 
Horace done.
To day alas! my vows I blindly made
Against thee sinning, when for him I pray'd.
See where he comes. Love I am lost if she
Prevail no more with him, than I with thee!

Scena Sexta.Horace. Curiace. Sabina. Camilla.
Curiace.
Ye Gods! 
Sabina too! is't not enough,

Camilla's here to try my vertues proof;
But you must bring along my Sister too,
To try what both their interests can do?
When having conquer'd your vast spirit, she
Must come, and try to do as much for me?
Sabina.

[Page 24]No! Brother no! I come not to that end,
I only to embrace, and part, pretend.
Your Blood's too true, fear nothing mean from me,
I bring no tears t' offend your constancy.
Nay! should I see this dire misfortune shake,
Or startle either, I would him forsake.
Yet give me leave to offer one request,
That may become my double interest.
I from the Victors Sword will wipe offence,
And reconcile honour to innocence.
Make it unto its native lustre rise,
And lastly make you lawful enemies.
In me alone it is you are ally'd,
When I am dead that knot will be unty'd.
Break then that Bond, that does your Arms oppose,
And since y'are bound in honour to be foes,
Purchase by me a priviledge to hate,
'Tis 
Rome and 
Alba's will, you must obey't.
Take one of you a life that I despise,
In this sick brest commence your cruelties;
And since my heart's divided in my wo,
Let your unpitying Steel divide it too.
The other way revenge 
Sabina's fall,
So shall your Combat be approv'd by all;
And one at least a just revenge may take,
Or for a Wifes, or for a Sisters sake.
But 'twould perhaps eclipse your Glories light
In a less Quarrel, should such Heroes fight.
'T must be your Country's Cause, and if you were
Less to your selves, less would your acts appear.
You must be Victims to your Country's lust;
Proceed then to a sacrifice so just:
Strike through the Sister at the Brother's life,
And wound the Husband, whilst you kill the Wife.
Begin ye Tigers, in this life of mine,
The Sacrifice you in your own design.
You in this famous combat must become,
A foe to 
Alba, you a foe to 
Rome:


[Page 25] But I oblig'd by Birth, and by my flame,
Unto them both an adversary am.
And must I be reserv'd, only to see,
The triumph of a hateful Victory?
A triumph where the Blood I prize so dear,
Must trim the Laurels of the Triumpher?
Can I betwixt you then govern my heart,
And play at once a Wifes and Sisters part?
And whilst my soul the Conquest does abhor,
With open arms imbrace the Conqueror?
No, e're that happen, Death shall close these eyes
From triumphs mixt with my Friends Obsequies.
My ruine shall prevent it, and what you
Withdraw your hands from, my own hands shall do.
Go on then Monsters! who your rage withstands?
I shall find means enough to force your hands,
Which shall no sooner be prepar'd to kill,
But with this brest I'le intercept your Steel:
And though you now deny me, force your blows,
To send my soul unto its wisht repose.
Horace.
Dear Wife!
Curiace.
Dear Sister!
Camilla.
Courage you prevail.
Sabina.
Your bosoms groan forth sighs, your cheeks grow pale.
What frights you thus? are these the men on whom,
The stakes are laid of 
Alba, and of 
Rome?
Horace.
Wherein 
Sabina have I done amiss,
That can deserve such a revenge as this?
How has my Honour injur'd thee, that thou
With all thy power assault'st my vertue so?
To have astonish'd me let it suffice,
And let me finish this brave enterprize.
Thy love has rais'd a conflict in my brest;
But Wife insult not in the pow'r thou hast.
Go, strive no more for conquest, 'tis to me▪
T'have suffer'd this debate, an infamy.
Permit me, that I may with honour dye.
Sabina.
You need not fear, your succours are so nigh.

[Page 26]

Scena Septima.

Horace the Father. Horace. Curiace. Sabina. Camilla.

Horace the Father.

Is this a time in Love parleys to spend,

When Rome and Alba do your Arms attend!

When Blood should weep, do you converse with tears!

Go! leave these Women to their womens fears.

Their griefs (my Sons) too subtil are for you,

And by contagion will your hearts subdue;

Nor can you but by flight evade their powers.

Sabina.

Doubt them not (Sir) they'r worthy to be yours,

And slighting all our prayers, resolv'd prepare

For acts becoming him whose Sons they are:

But if our tears have soft'ned them, we do

Thus give you scope to fortifie them new.

Come Sister, let us go, we weep in vain,

Tears are too weak to tonquer bruitish man.

To our sole refuge, black despair, we fly,

Go Tygers then, and fight, whilst we go die.

Scena Octava.

Horace the Father. Horace. Curiace.

Horace.

Confine (Sir) I beseech you to the House

These foolish Women, that they break not loose;

For if they should, their over-fondness might,

With cries, and tears perhaps disturb our fight,

And make the cens'ring world believe that we

Our selves were of the vile conspiracy.

This honour we should purchase then too dear,

If once suspected of so base a fear.

Horace the Father▪

Leave that to me, and go, your Brothers stay,

And now your duty to your Countries pay.

Curiace.

[Page 27]

How should I part, or in what method take—

Horace the Father.

Ah! do not tempt my grief, for vertues sake;

My voice wants terms t'enflame your noble brest,

And with perplexed thoughts my heart's opprest.

My tears swell up, to force their tender gates,

Do your devoire, and leave th' event to fates.

SONG.

(1.)
TO Arms! to Arms! the Heroes cry,
A glorious Death, or Victory.
Beauty and Love, although combin'd,
And each so powerful alone,
Cannot prevail against a mind
Bound up in resolution.
Tears their weak influence vainly prove,
Nothing the daring breast can move
Honour is blind, and deaf, ev'n deaf to love.

(2.)
The Field! the Field! where Valour bleeds,
Spurn'd into dust by barbed steeds,
Instead of wanton Beds of Down
Is now the Scene where they must try,
To overthrow, or be o'rethrown;
Bravely to overcome, or dye.
Honour in her interest sits above
What Beauty, Prayers, or tears can move:
Were there no Honour, there would be no Love.

CHORVS.
HOw prone are people tir'd with Peace,
To nauseate their happiness?
And headlong into mischief run,
To feed their foul ambition!


[Page 28] Leasure and Luxury, when met
In populous Cities, do beget
That Monster War, which at the first,
In little private discords nurst,
Grows higher by degrees, until
Having got power to his will,
He brake into a general flame,
Beyond what Politie can tame.
No int'rest then escapeth feer
From insolence, and cruelty;
And facts that flow from brutish lust▪
The titles wear of great and just.
Nay when Wars ensigns are display'd,
It is Religion to invade,
No matter whom, nor what the cause;
Nor is there room for other Laws,
Than what the Victor will on those
His riots have subdu'd, impose.
Yet there have still pretences been
The vilest practices to skreen.
There never wanted a pretence
To violate suff'ring innocence;
Though whatsoever men pretend,
Wealth, and Dominion are their end.
Imperious 
Rome! must 
Alba feel
The edge of thy invading Steel?

Alba thy Mother, from whose womb,
Thy Founder 
Romulus did come?
Or if thou tak'st an impious pride
To be esteem'd a Parricide,
Can nothing satiate thy will,
Vnless that Brothers, Brothers kill?
Deluded Heroes! how they fly
To meet a cruel Destiny,
And sacrifice themselves to Fame,
A nothing, a meer airy name,
When in th' unnatural contests
Who conquer'd falls is happiest!


[Page 29] 'Tis Tyrant Honour unto thee
We owe this bloody Tragedy,
Whom, but the vertuous none obey,
And being so, become thy prey.
They see in thy deluding glass
Trophies and Triumphs, when, alas!
'Tis their own blood they haste to shed,
And live, but to lament the Dead.
Deaf unto Piety, and Love,
The Combatants are gone to prove
Themselves true Patriots, when they are
The instruments of Civil War,
And hazard in a Combat more,
Than in a Battel heretofore.
Fate holds the balance whilst they fight,
And finds both scales of equal weight;
Valour with Valour even weighs
Honour with Honour, Praise with Praise;
But when she lays upon the beam
Her partial hand, and varies them,
Then one scale gets it, whilst on high,
The other kicks and knocks the Sky.

The end of the Second Act.

Actus Tertius.

Scena Prima.Sabina.
LEt us at last, my troubled Soul, appease
These inward mutinies, disturb our peace,
And stand no longer neuter in this War,
But, or for 
Alba, or for 
Rome declare.
Let us no more divide our fruitless care,
But nourish hope, to overcome despair.
Yet to which side, alas! should we adhere,
Where both the interests, equally are dear!


[Page 30] Alas! which party cleave to, which refuse;
Or 'twixt a Brother, and a Husband choose?
Nature, or Love, for either side do plead,
And I by duty unto both am led.
Then let us rather in this fatal strife,
Continue still a Sister, and a Wife.
Let us their honours above all prefer,
Their vertues imitate, and cease to fear.
The death that threatens is so brave an end,
We fearless should the sad report attend.
Let us no more the Fates inhumane call;
Think in what cause, not by whose hands they fall▪
Let us caress them who have bravely fought,
Nor wrong their Valours merit with a thought,
Save of the glory, and eternal grace,
Their Arms atchieve unto their noble race;
Nor once consider at whose bloods expence
Vertue has rais'd them to that eminence.
Let our concerns, and int'rest be the same
Their Houses interests are, in which I am
A Daughter, or a Wife; so near ally'd
To both their noble bloods, that neither side
Can of the other any triumph win,
But by their Swords atchievements, who are mine.
Fortune whatever ills thou dost dispence,
I've found a way t' extract some joy from thence:
I now can view fearless, and undismay'd,
This Tragedy in all its terrors plaid:
I can behold the dead without despair,
And without horror see the Vanquisher.
Oh flattering illusion! false delight!
Thou pleasing error, and impuissant light!
Which with a counterfeited Ray hast shown
How short thy stay was, and how soon th'art gone!
Like Lightnings in obscurity, that make
By their retiring flames, the night more black;
Mine eyes thou strook'st not with a short-liv'd beam,
But with more darkness to envelop them.


[Page 31] By thee my griefs too soon enchanted were,
And for that moments truce I pay too dear.
I feel my heart pierc'd thorow with the steel,
Just now employ'd my dearest friends to kill.
Contemplating their deaths, I not at all
Think in what quarrel, but by whom they fall;
Nor see the Victor rais'd to eminence,
But I consider at whose bloods expence.
I find my int'rest only is the same,
With the afflicted house in which I am
A Daughter, or a Wife, so near ally'd
To both their noble bloods, that neither side
Can from the other any triumph win,
But by their deaths, and ruine who are mine.
Is this the peace then I have pray'd for so?
Ye too propitious Gods, y'ave heard my vow!
What thunders do you, when provok'd, prepare,
If such dire cruelties your favours are?
And in what sort do you correct offence,
When you delight to punish innocence?

Scena Secunda.Sabina. Iulia.
Sabina.
Is it dispatcht my 
Iulia, tell me plain:
Have I a Brother, or a Husband slain?
Or have their impious weapons made at once
A Sacrifice of all the Champions;
And to prevent my hate to th' Vanquishers,
T' a general obsequy condemn'd my tears?
Iulia.
Can you so long be ign'rant of the news?
Sabina.
Is that your wonder? pray how should I choose?
Do you not know, that shut up here within,

Camilla and my self have pris'ners been?
We are secur'd, our tears are dang'rous grown,
We else e're this betwixt their Swords had flown,


[Page 32] And our despair, sprung from chast love, had won
Perhaps from both the Camps, compassion.
Iulia.
An object of that pity did not need,
Betwixt their noble courages to plead,
Since their appearance was enough alone,
To stay their furies execution.
No sooner were their plumed crests beheld,
Waving with warlike brav'ry in the Field,
But through both Armies strait a murmur rose,
To see friends so ally'd, chose out for foes.
This horror seizes, that soft pity fires,
A third the fury of their zeal admires;
This high applauds their vertue to the sky,
And that condemns it for barbarity.
Their various thoughts, met in one gen'ral voice,
All blame their Chieftains, and detest their choice:
And not enduring to behold the sight
Of that unnatural, and bloody fight,
Exclaiming loud, some do advance in haste,
And interposing part them at the last.
Sabina.
I owe you incense Gods! y'ave heard my prayer!
Iulia.
You are not yet where you suppose you are.
You now may hope, and moderate your fears;
Yet there is still to justifie your tears.
In vain men strive t'avert them from their fate,
Their generosity is deaf to that.
The glory of this choice, their Reason blinds,
And has so dazled their ambitious minds,
That when men leave them to their desp'rate ways,
They're pleas'd, and take all pity for disgrace.
The Camps affliction foils their glories light;
Nay they had rather with both Armies fight,
And perish by those hands their fury staid,
Than quit their int'rests in th' election made.
Sabina.
Persist they then so obstinate?
Iulia.
They do,
At which both Armies to sedition grow,
And vote from both sides, with a gen'ral voice,


[Page 33] Either for Battel, or another choice.
Their Leaders presence can no more perswade,
Authority's contemn'd, or disobey'd.
Nay, their ungovern'd heat went on so far,
Nought could reduce them, nor command, nor pray'r.
Until the King (held sometime in suspence
At so undisciplin'd an insolence)
Was fain himself at last his pow'r to try,
And thus attempt t' appease the mutiny.
"Since Souldiers thus (said he) you animate
"Your selves and fellows in this hot debate,
"Let us consult the sacred pow'rs and try,
"If with another choice the Gods comply;
"What impious mortal, when they once reveal
"Their dark decrees, dares then dispute their will▪
This said, his words seem'd to be powerful charms,
And even from the Champions forc'd their Arms;
That thirst of glory which so dimm'd their eyes,
Blind, as it was, ador'd the Deities.
Their heat submitted unto 
Tullius sence,
And aw'd by Piety or deference,
A Law of his advice both Armies made,
As both their Scepters he alike had sway'd:
The rest will from the Victims deaths be known.
Sabina.
The Gods an impious Combat will not own.
Since 'tis deferr'd my dying hopes revive,
And I begin to see my wishes thrive.

Scena Tertia.

Sabina. Camilla. Iulia.

Sabina.

Sister, I have good news!

Camilla.

I think I know

What that good news is, if you call it so;

I heard it told my Father, but I find

No comfort in't to my afflicted mind:

[Page 34]This but prorogues our miseries which shall

Return more violent by this interval;

And all the rays of comfort it doth shed,

Is only that our tears are respited.

Sabina.

The Gods did not in vain this tumult fire.

Camilla.

We rather do in vain of them enquire.

They have instructed Tullius in this choice,

And theirs but seldom meet the publick voice:

For you must know that the immortal Gods

Descend more rarely to the mean abodes

Of common souls, than unto Princes far,

Who here below their own Vice-gerents are,

And whose unlimited pow'r's a secret beam

Of the Divinity's annext to them.

Iulia.

To argue thus is wilfully to rear

Against your self the obstacles you fear.

We only know Heav'ns will, when mov'd by pray'r,

In sacred Oracles the Gods declare;

Neither can you despair: but first you must,

The truth of what you late had thence distrust▪

Camilla.

All Oracles do in mysterious sence

Still shrowd themselves from our intelligence,

And when we think we understand them most,

The most we grope, and are in error lost;

Far then from building our assurances

On their illegible, and dark decrees.

When least they seem perplext, then to be sure,

We should suspect them to be most obscure.

Sabina.

By what's already done, we ought to give

Our griefs, and fears, some respite, and reprieve,

T' allay our sorrows, and to give some scope,

Some entertainment to a pleasing hope;

When Heav'ns favour does her Arms disclose

Half open, ready to embrace our woes;

Who then the happy Auspice does not own,

And does expect no blessing, merits none?

That recontracts them, and she takes offence,

To see her bounties checkt by diffidence.

Camilla.

[Page 35]

Heav'n acts alone in all his deep designs;

Nor fits events to flatter humane minds.

Iulia.

Heav'n has alarm'd your bosom thus, to fit

You better for the joys must follow it.

Farewel! I'le go enquire of your affairs;

In the mean time pray moderate your cares:

I hope these sad reflexions will all prove,

At my return soft arguments of love;

And that we yet shall dedicate this night

Sacred to Hymen, and to chaste delight.

Sabina.

I hope so too.

Camilla.

I dare not.

Iulia.

The success

Will soon discover who the best can guess.

Scena Quarta.Sabina. Camilla.
Sabina.
Sister, amids't these cares, permit my love
To chide those griefs I needs must disapprove.
What would you do if in my state you were,
Had you as much as I t' excuse your fear,
And did expect from their too fatal Arms
Losses to equal mine, and equal harms?
Camilla.
Oh Sister! speak with judgment, not design,
When you would parallel your ills to mine:
All people look with a far diff'rent eye▪
On others harms, and those concern them nigh:
But mine consider'd right, yours are a dream,
A meer illusion, when compar'd with them.
You only have 
Horatio's death to fear,
Brothers, compar'd to Husbands, nothing are.
When saffron'd 
Hymen by the Nuptial tye
Unites us to another Family,
He disengages us from ev'ry claim
That once pretended to, from whence we came.


[Page 36] Those diff'rent ties no parallel admit,
To follow Husbands, we our Parents quit:
But when just going to be made a Spouse,
The Servant that a Father's care bestows,
Although below a Husband in his claim,
Stands yet a Rival with a Brother's name.
Those interests our thoughts betwixt them share,
Our choice, and vows perplext, and doubtful are.
Thus Sister, you at least have in your tears
Or what to wish, or what may ease your fears.
Whilst I, if Heav'ns hand do not forbear,
Have nothing left to hope, but all to fear.
Sabina.
Sister methinks you argu't very ill
When Friends so near must one another kill;
And we, though th' obligations diff'rent seem,
Our Parents leave, without forgetting them.

Hymen does not those Characters remove;
Nor does it follow that because we love
Our Husbands best, we should our Brothers hate.
Nature still keeps her Laws inviolate.
When we of force must one or th'other lose,
At either's life's expence, 'tis hard to choose;
Nor know we then which interest is supream:
"All ills are equal, when they are extream.
And when all's done, this man you so esteem
Will only prove, as you shall value him.
The least distaste, or jealousie may prove
Pow'rful enough to banish him your love.
Do that by Reason, may by Chance be done,
And leave your blood out of comparison.
'Tis ill to raise up int'rests against those,
Our births do of necessity impose.
I then if Heav'ns hand do not forbear,
Have nothing left to hope, but all to fear:
Whilst you have this advantage in your tears;
Or what to wish, or what to ease your fears.
Camilla.
Sister I see Love never pierc'd your heart,
You know him not, nor ever felt his dart:


[Page 37] We may resist him in his infant state,
But when he rules, and sways, 'tis then too late;
And chiefly when Fathers allowances
Have so oblig'd our Faith by their decrees,
Till they have made this little Tyrant reign
Over our hearts a lawful Sovereign.
Love mildly enters: but by pow'r he sways,
And when a soul his bait once swallow'd has,
In vain it then attempts to give it o're,
It has no more the will it had before.
His chains are strong, as bright, and delicate.

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.


[Page 38] 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:


[Page 39] 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.

Scena Sexta.Horace the Father. Sabina. Camilla. Iulia.
Horace the Father.
Dost thou come to us 
Iulia to declare
Whose noble brows the Victor's Laurels wear?
Iulia.
Rather the Combats sad effects, for 
Rome
Is 
Alba's Captive, and your Sons o'recome.
Two slain out-right, her Lord survives alone.
Horace the Father.
Of a sad fight a sad conclusion!

Rome, Alba's subject, and in such a need
My Son not fight, whilst he had blood to bleed!
It cannot be! you are deceiv'd, 'tis plain,

Rome is unconquer'd, or my Son is slain;
I better do my bloods true temper know,
And he so well, what he to 
Rome does owe,
He could not, durst not, but o'recome, or dye.
Iulia.
A thousand more might see't, as well as I.
He acted wonders till his Brother's fall;
But when once left to fight against them all,
And half hemm'd in, flight did his person save.
Horace the Father.
And th' injur'd Souldiers not dispatch 
 [...] ▪
Would they afford the Coward a retreat?
Iulia.
I came away upon the fad defeat.
Camilla.

[Page 40]Oh! my dear Brothers!
Horace the Father.
Stay! lament not all!
Two are so fall'n, I emulate their fall.
Let noblest Flowers on their Tombs be laid,
I in their glorious death their loss am paid;
And 'twas their vertues fortune not to be,
Survivors of their Countries Liberty;
Nor see it by a stranger Prince be sway'd;
Nor to a neighb'ring State, a Province made.
Lament the base survivor, and the shame
His coward flight has branded on my name.
Lament the infamy of all our Race,
And the 
Horatian glory's black disgrace.
Iulia.
What should he against three have done?
Horace the Father.
Have dy'd,
Or by a brave despair been fortifi'd.
Or had he but demurr'd to his defeat,

Rome had been subject something later yet:
He then had left these aged hoary hairs
As bright with honour, as they're white with years;
And he, though he had dy'd, had carried hence,
For a frail life, a noble recompence.
He now accomptable to 
Rome remains,
For all the coward blood that swells his veins.
And every drop preserv'd by such a shame,
Has quench'd his glory, and eclips'd his fame.
Each hour on's life, after an act so base,
His shame, and mine, still more and more betrays.
I'le cut it short, and whilst my rage puts on
A Father's pow'r o're an unworthy Son;
I in his punishment will make it known,
How much the poultron's baseness I disown.
Sabina.
Be govern'd less, Sir, by that generous heat,
And do not raise our mischiefs higher yet.
Horace the Father.

Sabina you may best these mischiefs bear,
You in these ills have yet the easiest share,
You in this ruine yet do nothing lose;
Heav'n has preserv'd your Brothers, and your Spouse.


[Page 41] 'Tis to your Country we are Subjects made,
Your Brothers Victors are, whilst 
Rome's betray'd,
And dazled by the lustre of their fame,
You ne're consider our eternal shame:
But your affection to this beast will make
Your bosom soon, our miseries partake.
These tears you shed weak intercessors are;
For by the Pow'rs above I here do swear
These hands shall wash e're day do quit the sky,
In his false blood, the 
Roman infamy.
Sabina.
His rage transports him, let us interpose.
Must we (just Heav'n) still meet succeeding woes?
Our ills are grown too mighty to withstand,
When fury threatens from a Parents hand.

SONG.

(1.)
BEauty that it self can kill,
Through the finest temper'd steel,
Can those wounds she makes endure,
And insult it o're the brave,
Since she knows a certain cure,
When she is dispos'd to save:
But when a Lover bleeding lies,
Wounded by other Arms,
And that she sees those harms,
For which she knows no remedies;
Then Beauty Sorrows livery wears,
and whilst she melts away in tears,
Drooping in sorrow shews
Like Roses overcharg'd with morning dews.

(2.)
Nor do women, though they wear▪
The most tender character,


[Page 42] Suffer in this case alone:
Hearts enclos'd with iron Walls,
In humanity must groan
When a noble Hero falls.
Pitiless courage would not be
An honour, but a shame;
Nor bear the noble name
Of valour, but barbarity;
The generous even in success
Lament their enemies distress:
And scorn it should appear
Who are the Conquer'd, with the Conqueror.

CHORVS.
These are th' effects of War, and these
The Sacrifices are to peace;
Peace, that once broken in her right
Nothing but blood can reunite:
Wars Hand-maid Fury prompts her on,
To blood and devastation;
Nor ceases till whole Countries lye,
O'rewhelm'd in one calamity,
Or though the Sacrifice for all,
Should in one single person fall;
Yet in whatever falls amiss,
The publick still a loser is.
And as a radiant Gem out-vies
Masses of Metal in her prize:
One Heroes loss, more loss includes,
Then vile Plebeian multitudes.
A bloody Combat here we see
Fought for an empty sovereignty,
When they lie weltring on the sand,
Who were the fittest to command.
Thus man himself still undermines,
And blind destroys his own designs,


[Page 43] For the victorious here may boast
An Empire when the Ruler's lost.
Who now with better title may,

Rome's Battels, or her Scepter sway,
Then they who her brave Champions were?
Princes then truly Princes are,
When with a Parents love they stake
Their persons for their peoples sake.
Oh 
Rome! Oh 
Alba! what desire
First set your noble breasts on fire!
Or what offence engag'd your steel,
The blood of your Allies to spill!
'Tis vitious Envy that has made
You thus each others bounds invade;
Envy the souls most foul disease,
That pines at others happiness,
Has made you thus each other hate,
Because you both were fortunate.
Thus humane glories do procure
The dangers which they should secure;
Bare reputation will suffice
To make a thousand Enemies;
And vertue the more bright she shines,
Serves but to light mens dark designs,
To give their malice aim, and guide
The poyson'd dart into her side;
'Tis emulation animates
The fury, and the spleen of States;
And till that emulation cease
The world will never be at peace.
The Combat now is overblown,
But the event not truly known.
The Scene will soon unto your eye
Open the Tragick History.
Then they who may the Conquest boast,
When they consider what it cost,
Shall find the triumph they have got▪
So empty and so dearly bought,


[Page 44] That though success have serv'd their will,
Their woes have made them equal still.

The end of the Third Act.

Actus Quartus.

Scena Prima.

Horace the Father. Camilla.

Horace the Father.

URge me no more Camilla, do not try

Your int'rest, for this Son of Infamy;

Let him avoid my sight if he be wise,

As basely he outran his enemies

To save the coward blood he prizes so:

He is not safe unless he fly me too.

Sabina may conceal him, or (by Iove)

The Sov'reign power of the Gods above.—

Camilla.

Ah (gentle Sir) do not resent it so,

Rome you shall see, will with a smoother brow

Look on his noble merit, and at least

Excuse his vertue by such odds opprest.

Horace the Father.

No matter daughter what Romes censures are,

A Father's int'rest is particular.

I know the ways true vertue does profess;

"Numbers do still ingloriously oppress.

Her masculine vigour still maintains its heat,

And under odds may perish, not retreat.

But silence, what does young Valerius bring?

Scena Secunda.Horace the Father. Valerius. Camilla.
Valerius.
Sir I am hither order'd by the King▪


[Page 45] To comfort, and assure you—
Horace the Father.
Take no care,
It is an office that you both may spare;
And I had rather see those Sons lie slain
In Honours lap, then that survives with shame.
Two Sons are nobly fall'n with my applause,
Like men of honour in their Countries Cause;
And that will serve to make my shame the less.
Valerius.
But, Sir, the third is such a happiness,
As all their shares may in your bosom claim.
Horace the Father.
If with himself he had put out my name.
Valerius.
You only frown upon his merit.
Horace the Father.
True,
From me alone his punishment is due.
Valerius.
What in his manly conduct can you blame?
Horace the Father.
Is it by flight that Souldiers purchase fame?
Valerius.
But his retreat was glorious in this case.
Horace the Father.
You double my confusion, and disgrace.
Sure 'tis a new example, that in fight,
Men seek out glory by the way of flight.
Valerius.
Where lies your wonder, or where lies your shame?
To have begot a Son improves his name?
One that for 
Rome has Crowns and Triumphs won!
What can a Father wish for in a Son?
Horace the Father.
What Scepters, or what Triumphs, what applause,
Whilst 
Rome now truckles under 
Alba's Laws?
Valerius.
What makes you harp so upon 
Rome's defeat,
Can you of what is past, be ign'rant yet?
Horace the Father.
Was not the Combat ended in his flight?
Valerius.

Alba a while imagin'd so, but streight
She better knew what 'twas for him to fly,
Who wore upon his Sword 
Rome's Destiny.
Horace the Father.
Is 
Rome triumphant then?
Valerius.
Learn Sir to know
The Valour of that Son y'ave blemisht so:
Left single to dispute it with the three,
And those all wounded, he untoucht, and free;
Too weak for all; too strong for any one,


[Page 46] He wisely their united force to shun,
Pretended flight to fight on better terms,
And by that stratagem divides their Arms.
They all pursue, but with such diff'rent speed,
As weak, and wounded, more or less they bleed:
When 
Horace seeing his design had took,
Faces about, and with Heroick look,
Grown now secure of Conquest, bravely stays
Him that was foremost in the eager chace:
Which prov'd your Son-in-law, who vext to see,
He durst alone dispute it with the three;
Vainly discover'd in his falling on,
A noble courage, when his strength was gone.
Then 
Alba fearing her brave Champions fall,
Did to the second for assistance call;
Who weak attempts his haste to animate,
And being come, finds he is come too late:
His Brother had e're his arrival paid
His lifes dear tribute to the Conqueror's blade.
Camilla.
Alas!
Valerius.
Yet panting, bravely he supplies
His room, and doubles your Son's Victories;
His courage without vigour to maintain
The daring enterprize, prov'd weak, and vain;
And to revenge his Brother whilst he tries,
Down by his side he conquer'd falls, and dies.
The rowling Orbs ring with a various cry,

Alba for sorrow groans, 
Rome shouts for joy:
When our brave 
Hero ready to compleat
His triple Conquest, thought it was not yet
Enough to conquer, but he would engage,
And further whet his bold opposers rage.
I here (said he) have immolated these
My Brothers angry Manes to appease;
And my third adversary (
Rome) shall be
A Sacrifice to thy concerns, and thee.
Which said, he flew at his surviving foe;
Nor was the conquest disputable now:


[Page 47] The 
Alban goar'd with wounds, with mortal pain,
Could moving hardly his own weight sustain:
But as mild Victims to the Altar go,
And yield their necks unto the mortal blow:
So he defenceless bow'd unto his fate,
And in his fall secur'd the 
Roman State.
Horace the Father.
Oh my brave Son, my Joy, Honor's bright ray,
Of a declining State the only stay!
Oh noble vertue that thy blood dost grace!
Prop of thy Country! Glory of thy Race!
When shall I in thy gen'rous breast pour forth
Excuses for those thoughts that wrong'd thy worth?
When shall my love, which now too tender grows,
In tears of joy bathe thy victorious brows?
Valerius.
You may do that, Sir, in a little space,
The King will send him straight to your embrace;
Who till the morn the Sacrifice defers,
Due to those Pow'rs have made us Conquerors.
To day we only do our thanks express
In 
Io Paeans for the great success.
The King now gracing your Son's Triumph, has
In the mean time afforded me the grace,
To be the man he pleases to employ,
At once to bring you news of grief, and joy:
Nor does he think this complement enough,
Unless to give your worth a further proof
How he does prize it, he in person come,
With his own mouth to pay the thanks of 
Rome.
Horace the Father.
Such thanks for me far too illustrious are▪
And I conceive my self already far
Out-paid in these you offer me, for all
My brave Sons Service, and my two Sons fall.
Valerius.
The King imperfect Honours ne're bestows,
And 
Rome's proud Scepter rescu'd from her Foes,
Makes him believe all Honours he can shew,
Much short of what's to you and 
Horace due▪
I'le go inform him what a noble sence
Vertue inspires you with in all events;


[Page 48] And how you love his Service.
Horace the Father.
That will prove
So fair an office as will bind my love.

Scena Tertia.Horace the Father. Camilla.
Horace the Father.
Daughter 'tis now no time to weep, and in
This shine of Honour, such a show's ill seen.
Domestick losses we unjustly prize,
When they procure us publick Victories.

Rome triumphs over 
Alba, and 'tis fit,
Unto that single good, all ills submit.
You in your Servant lose a man, no more;
A loss that 
Rome can easily restore.
After this Victory, what 
Roman bloud,
Of such a match will not be justly proud?
I'le go inform 
Sabina of what's past,
The news to her no doubt will bitter taste;
And her three Brothers, by a Husband slain,
Will give her juster reason to complain.
But yet I hope by gentle ways t' appease
Those sorrows, which like fluctuating Seas,
Do often overwhelm the noblest mind;
And that her prudence with her courage joyn'd,
Will make that gen'rous love rule in her heart,
Due to the worthy Victors brave desert.
I'th' interim conquer your effeminate grief,
And if he come, receive our 
Roman Chief,
With such a constant brow as may declare,
How worthy of him you his Sister are;
And by your noble carriage make it good,
That in one Womb, Heav'n form'd you of one Blood.

[Page 49]

Scena Quarta.Camilla.
Yes, by assured signs I'le make him see
That vertuous Love can baffle Destiny;
Nor yet those tyr'nnous cruel laws obeys
Our froward Stars seat in a Parents place.
Unpitying Father! on so just a score
Thou call'st my sorrows womanish and poor:
But I the more it does afflict thee, will
Dote on his memory, more lament him still,
And make that sorrow thou condemn'st to rise
Equal to fortunes direct cruelties.
Did ever fortune in a few hours space,
So often vary her inconstant face!
So often kind, and cruel, good, and ill!
And strook so often e're she strook to kill?
Was ever soul that in one day did bear
Such turns of joy, and grief, of hope, and fear?
A soul subjected unto more events,
And bandied so with various accidents:
An Oracle, a Dream, a Battel, Peace;
By turns assure, astonish, fright, appease.
My Nuptials are prepar'd, and straight my Love
Against my Brothers Arms, his Arms must prove:
Both Camps abhor the choice, and stay their rage,
Whom the unpitying Gods again engage.

Rome seems o'recome, and 
Curiace's hand
From blood of mine alone remains unstain'd.
Was not my grief (ye Powers) then too small,
For 
Rome's misfortune, and my Brothers fall?
Did not my hopes flatter my innocence,
When I thought still to love him no offence?
His death has paid me home for't, and to that,
The cruel way of telling me his fate.
His Rival brings the news, and to my face
Repeats the hateful truth of his disgrace.


[Page 50] Apparent joy doth on his forehead sit,
Pleas'd with my loss more than 
Romes benefit;
Whilst building aiery hopes in his vain head,
He, with my Brother, triumphs o're the dead.
But this is nothing still to what's behind,
On this occasion I am joy enjoyn'd.
I must applaud the Conqueror's desert,
And kiss th' inhumane hand that gores my heart.
It is in such a deplorable case
A crime to weep, and but to sigh disgrace.
Their brutish vertue in this shock of fate,
Will have me fancy my self fortunate.
It is it seems a rule the vertuous have,
We must be barb'rous e're we can be brave.
Degenerate then my heart, let us disclaim
This Father's Vertue, and this Brother's Fame.
'Tis honourable to be counted base,
Where Vertue rises by such brutish ways.
Break out my griefs, 'tis fruitless to forbear!
When all's once lost, what have we left to fear?
Let us this bloody Conqueror despise,
And far from shunning him confront his eyes;
Reproach his Victory, provoke his Spleen,
And please your selves, by your displeasing him,
See where he comes, now let us bravely show
What to a Lover's death, chaste Lovers owe.

Scena Quinta.Horace. Camilla. Preculus, and two Souldiers, each bearing a Sword of the 
Curiatii.
Horace.
See Sister here the Arm that has on all
The 
Alban Champions wreak'd our Brother's fall;
The Arm that with the froward Fates of 
Rome
Single has fought, and single overcome;


[Page 51] The Arm has conquer'd 
Alba, and alone
Betwixt two States struck the decision.
Behold the Trophies which these 
Romans bear,
These noble Ensigns of a Conqueror:
And pay the thanks thou ow'st those Pow'rs that bless
The 
Roman Arms with such a fair success.
Camilla.
Then take my tears, for these are all I owe.
Horace.
Such actions should not be rewarded so.
And our brave Brother's noble fall appears
Repaid with blood enough t' excuse your tears.
"Losses reveng'd once to be losses cease.
Camilla.
Since then appeas'd with blood, they rest in peace,
I shall forbear to pay that Fun'ral debt,
And will their deaths you have reveng'd forget:
But who'l revenge me for a Lovers fall,
And dry those tears I pay his Funeral?
Horace.
What say'st thou wretch?
Camilla.
Ah my dear 
Curiace!
Horace.
Impudent woman, and my bloods disgrace,
Does yet that name in thy remembrance live,
And in thy heart a love for him survive,
That as a publick enemy to 
Rome
I to my deathless Glory, have o'recome?
This criminal flame does to revenge aspire!
Thy mouth proclaims th'unnatural hearts desire!
Govern thy passion better, and be wise,
Let me not blush to hear thy guilty sighs.
'Tis now high time to quench that flame, and chace
Those clouds of sorrow which obscure thy face,
That on my triumph it may smiling shine.
Camilla.
Give me a heart, Barbarian, then like thine,
And since thou wilt have me my soul explain,
Restore my Love, or let my Passion reign.
My joy, and grief, were by his Fortune led,
Living I lov'd him, and lament him dead.
Seek not thy Sister where thou leftst her last;
Thy cruelty that title has defac'd.


[Page 52] And having broke that bond, I am become
An injur'd Lover in a Sisters room.
Who, like a fury, on thy steps will wait,
To blast thee with reproaches for his fate.
Obdurate Tyger! who forbid'st mine eyes
Should pay their Tribute to his Obsequies.
Would'st have my tongue to flatter thee, approve,
Boast, and applaud the slaughter of my Love,
And to the Skies, whilst thy exploits I rear,
Become a second time his murtherer?
May miseries consort that life of thine,
Till they increase, that thou may'st envy mine;
And may'st thou by some act of horror blot
The glory thy barbarity has got.
Horace.
Heav'n! what a madness rages in her tongue,
Think'st thou I'm grown insensible of wrong,
That this affront I suffer in my blood?
Approve his death, makes for the publick good;
And to his memory prefer at least,
That which thy birth owes to 
Rome's interest.
Camilla.

Rome! that alone does my affliction prove,

Rome! to whom thou hast sacrific'd my Love!

Rome! that first gave thee life! that perfectly
I hate, because she does so honour thee!
May all her neighbours in one cause conspire,
To sack her Walls, and ruine her by fire.
And if all 
Italy appear too few,
May East and West joyn in the mischief too.
Far as the frozen poles may Nations come,
O're Hills, and Seas, to sack imperious 
Rome.
May her own Walls o'rewhelm and bury her,
And may her own Hands her own Bowels tear▪
May Heav'n to whose wrath I votress am,
Rain on her Bosom deluges of Flame.
May I behold a Lightning fall so just,
Her Buildings ashes, and her Laurels dust.
May I of Heav'ns justice be so grac't,
To see the last of 
Romans breathe his last.


[Page 53] And lastly (ye just Powers) I desire
I may be cause of all, and pleas'd expire.

Horace drawing his Sword, and pursuing her.
It is too much: Patience a while, give place!
Down into Hell to seek thy 
Curiace.

Camilla behind the Scene.
Oh Traytor!
Horace.
So may all offenders die
That dare lament a 
Roman enemy.

Scena Sexta.

Horace. Proculus.

Proculus.

What have you done?

Horace.

An exemplary act,

And a due justice for so foul a fact.

Proculus.

But to your Sister this was too severe.

Horace.

Never tell me how near ally'd we were.

My Father scorns to own a child so base,

Curses her Country, and disclaims her Race;

All ties of Love are forfeited and gone,

And she is stript of all Relation.

Her nearest Kindred cannot but disclaim

A beast that brands her Family with shame.

The promptest vengeance, and most cruel must,

For such a Crime as hers be stil'd most just;

And those her impious whishes ought to be

Stifled like Monsters in their infancy.

[Page 54]

Scena Septima.Horace. Sabina. Proculus.
Sabina.
Why stops thy noble fury here? Come nigh,
See in her Fathers arms 
Camilla dye.
Come glut thine eyes with the alluring sight,
And if thou think'st what's done be yet too light,
To thy dear 
Rome offer the blood remains
O'th' 
Curiatii in 
Sabina's veins.
Never spare theirs, whilst of thine own so free;
But to 
Camilla's joyn my destiny:
Our crimes, as well as miseries, are one,
Like her my Brother's slaughter I bemoan;
Transgressing more thy cruel Laws, then she;
She only wept for one, but I for three,
To give thy fury a more just pretence.
Horace.

Sabina, dry your tears, or get you hence.
Render thy self worthy 
Horatio's Wife,
And that repute thy chaste, and vertuous life,
Has from mankind, as thy just merit won,
And wound me not with mean compassion.
If th'absolute int'rest of a vertuous flame
Commands our hearts and souls to be the same,
It is thy part to raise thy heart to mine,
I ought not to thy weaknesses decline.
I love thee, and I know thy soul's grown sad,
Call in my vertue to thy frailties aid;
Instead of clouding it, my glory share,
And without stripping me my triumphs wear.
Art thou so great a foe unto my fame,
That I should please thee better clad in shame?
Discover now the vertue of that flame
That seats a Husband in his sov'reign claim
Above th' inferiour interest of blood,
And learn by my example to be good.
Sabina.

[Page 55]Some nobler soul to imitate you choose;
I blame thee not, alas! for what I lose:
My thoughts are govern'd as they ought to be,
And I do rather blame mischance than thee.
But I all claim to 
Roman Vertue quit,
If inhumanity must purchase it;
Nor can I in my own esteem appear
Wife unto him, who is the Conquerour▪
But that at once I see my self again
The deplorable Sister of the slain.
Let us in publick, publick Conquests own,
Lament domestick miseries at home,
And not regard a good derives to all,
When on our selves peculiar mischiefs fall.
Why (cruel man) dost thou those Trophies wear
Lay by those Laurels when thou enter'st here,
And joyn with me in tears.—
Will not this raise
Thy vertues spleen to end my wretched days?
Can my repeated crime not move thine ire?

Camilla's blest could raise thy furies fire!
She tempted from thee, what she wisht for most,
And finds below all that above she lost.
Dear cause of all the woes my heart oppress,
Incline to pity if thine anger cease:
One of the passions to thy choice propose,
To scourge my frailty, or to end my woes.
For death by favour, or desert I move,
Be't an effect of Justice or of Love,
It shall be welcome, and I'le kiss the brand
Performs that office from a Husband's hand.
Horace.
You are unjust you Gods! why do you give
Imperious women this prerogative
O're noble souls, and pleas'd sit looking on,
Whilst they insult in their dominion?
To what a strait am I reduc'd, when I
To save my vertue am enforc'd to fly?
Farewel, follow me not, or dry your tears▪
Sabina.

[Page 56]Oh wrath! O pity! deaf unto my prayr's!
My crime I see's neglected, and my woe
Does in the repetition tedious grow.
Thus, though I tempt his spirit various ways,
I can obtain nor punishment, nor grace:
But once again my tears their pow'r shall try,
And if that fail, by my own hand I'le die.

SONG.

(1.)
THe young, the fair, the chaste, the good,
The sweet 
Camilla, in a flood
Of her own Crimson lies
A bloody, bloody sacrifice
To Death and man's inhumane cruelties.
Weep Virgins till your sorrow swells
In tears above the Ivory Cells
That guard those Globes of light;
Drown, drown those beauties of your eyes.
Beauty should mourn, when beauty dies;
And make a general night,
To pay her innocence its Funeral rite.

(2.)
Death since his Empire first begun,
So foul a conquest never won,
Nor yet so fair a prize;
And had he had a heart, or eyes,
Her beauties would have charm'd his cruelties.
Even Savage Beasts will Beauty spare,
Chaft Lions fawn upon the fair;
Nor dare offend the chaste:


[Page 57] But vitious man, that sees and knows
The mischiefs his wild fury does,
Humours his passions haste,
To prove ungovern'd man the greatest beast.

CHORVS.

Rome, thou hast bought thy Triumph dear,
And like a greedy purchaser,
Hast laid a greater treasure forth,
Than 
Alba's fealty is worth.
What hast thou won, that can make good
The two 
Horatii's lavish'd blood?
Or who are left fit to supply
The noble 
Curiatii?
You now may with confederate Arms
Invade your Borderers in swarms,
And think like two united Seas,
T' o'reflow your neighb'ring Provinces;
And for new Conquests may prepare,
When you are weaker than you were.
Too brave 
Horatio, thou hadst won
Glory to have out-dar'd the Sun,
And live a President in 
Rome
To vertue ages yet to come.
But this last act of thine has thrown
So black a cloud o're thy renown,
That future times at once must see
Thy Valour and thy Cruelty.
Thus as the Sun does climb the skies,
He still in brighter Beams doth rise,
Till in his full Meridian plac't,
His glories thence decline as fast;
So men by dangerous degrees,
Arriv'd at honours precipice,
Striving ambitiously to get
To brighter stations higher yet:


[Page 58] There wanting footing for their pride,
They topple on the other side;
And in one act do forfeit more,
Than all they had atchiev'd before.
Were Love, and Piety such crimes,
In these so celebrated times,
That Fury must in Iustice stead
Level the mourners with the dead?
Must charming beauty, at whose feet
Valour its conquests should submit,
That Sex that priviledg'd should be
Even from inhumanity,
Th' effects of brutish fury feel?
Thy vertues sweet 
Camilla still,
Do in thy ev'ning brighter rise
To baffle humane cruelties.
And bravest 
Heroes when they shall
This great example of thy fall,
In the worlds brightest Annals see,
Even they themselves shall envy thee.

The end of the Fourth Act.

Actus Quintus.

Scena Prima.Horace the Father. Horace.
Horace the Father.
LEt us from this sad spectacle retire,
Heav'ns never-sleeping justice to admire,
Which, when we swell to insolence, knows how
To scourge our pride, and lay our glories low.
Heav'n sorrow ever with our joy combines,
Sows seeds of frailty in the noblest minds,


[Page 59] And seldom does our bravest actions crown,
With an unblemish'd and a true renown.

Camilla did offend, nor do I wear
These clouds of sorrow in my face for her;
I think my self to be lamented more,
And more than her, alas! I thee deplore.
I do bewail my own sinister fate
To have a Daughter so degenerate;
And thee for having by misfortune dy'd
Thy noble Sword in such a Parricide.
Not that I do thy heat or justice blame,
Yet, I could wish thou hadst escap'd the shame:
Her crime (though worthy death) had better far
Been spar'd, than thou her executioner.
Horace.
My life, and death, Sir, in your sentence lie,
I thought that blow due to 
Romes injury:
But if that zeal do criminal appear,
If I eternal brands of shame must wear,
And if my arm be infamous become,
With one sole word you may pronounce my doom.
Take back that blood which my unworthy hand
Has by a coward act so basely stain'd.
I could not suffer in your vertuous Race
A crime that might your noble name disgrace:
Nor should you with an over-partial eye
Suffer this blemish in your Family.
In acts where honour suffers 'tis discern'd,
That such a Father as you are's concern'd.
T' excuse ill Sons, even Fathers should forbear,
Whilst they conceal our faults, they faulty are;
And his own fame that Father little moves,
Who spares that guilt his vertue disapproves.
Horace the Father.
Fathers sometimes from harsh extreams for­bear,
And often spare their Sons themselves to spare.
Our age leans on their youthful strength, and spares
Them, since in them we must be sufferers.
I look upon thee with a diff'rent eye
From that thou censur'st thine own vertue by:


[Page 60] And though thy reputation blemish'd stand,
I know—but see the Guards, the King's at hand.

Scena Secunda.Tullius. Valerius. Horace the Father, and Guards.
Horace the Father.
Great Sir, you do your Servant too much grace,
I blush to see you in so mean a place.
Permit me that in gratitude thus low.—
Tullius.
No Father rise, and let your merit know
I pay in this the least of what is due
From vertuous Princes to such men as you.
Such services pretend to all whate're
Subjects can merit or their Kings confer.

Valerius word was past; nor could I be
Just to my self, till I had set him free.
I heard from him; nor did I doubt befreo,
With what a noble constancy you bore
Your brave Sons deaths, and know that to a soul
So fortifi'd as yours, so right, and whole;
What comforts I could bring would only prove
Unnecessary complements of Love:
But now that I have heard what a sad fate
Does on your conqu'ring Sons brave valour wait,
And that his zeal to th' publick cause has led
His sudden fury to commit a deed,
Deprives you of an onely Daughter; then
Whilst I consider the most brave are men,
I must confess I cannot choose but fear
How your great heart, so great a blow can bear.
Horace the Father.
Sir, with a troubled, but a patient sence.
Tullius.
A brave effect of your experience.
Many by living long have learnt to know
That happiness is but a step to woe:
But few apply that knowledge to the best,
And most mens vertues truckle, when opprest▪


[Page 61] If in your King's compassion you can find
A comfort to th' afflictions of your mind,
Believe it great as them, and that I do
With the same friendship love, and pity you.
Valerius.
Since, mighty Sir, into the hands of Kings
Heav'n delegates the Law to order things,
And that within their sacred power lies
Reward for vertue, punishment for vice:
Permit a loyal Subject in this case,
To prompt that justice your compassion stays,
And say you seem this murther to forget,
Whilst you lament, and do not punish it.
Permit.—
Horace the Father.
What! that 
Romes conquering Champion die,
And have his service paid with infamy?
Tullius.
Let him say on, 
Horatio, and forbear,
I who am to determine, ought to hear;
And do not fear but I will do you right,
It is at once my duty, and delight.
When justice even, and unbiass'd flows,
She then a Monarch for a Monarch shows.
Divinity shines round about him then,
Above the common race of common men:
And that which makes me most commiserate
The wretched fortune of your sad estate,
Is, to hear justice clamour'd on your Son,
Who has for 
Rome so brave a service done.
Valerius.
Permit then, justest Monarch, that in me
All vertuous men appeal for equity.
'Tis not, alas! that our repining hearts
Envy those honours, crown his brave deserts;
All you can give, short of his merit fall,
His glorious actions shine above them all.
Add new, and greater still to those before,
We all are willing to contribute more:
But let him since he could obscure his fame▪
By such an act of horror, and of shame,


[Page 62] At once for merit, and a crime so high,
A Victor triumph, an Offender dye.
Check his wild rage, and rescue those remain
Of 
Romes brave off-spring, if you mean to reign.
Your peoples ruine, or their safety lies,
Or in his Pardon, or his Sacrifice.
Few 
Romans ever could in 
Alba boast
Of 
Alba's loss, but they in 
Alba lost
Some such relation, as might force their eyes
To private tears in publick Victories.
If such a vertuous sorrow then become
Criminal to the interest of 
Rome;
If his success oblige you to dispence,
And priviledge so great an insolence;
Who will this barbarous Conquerour forbear,
Whose fury would not his own Sister spare;
Nor yet excuse the sorrow all approve
In a chaste Virgin ravish'd of her Love?

Rome, though she triumphs, is 
Horatio's slave,
He has the sovereign Pow'r to kill, or save;
Nor have we now a longer time to live,
Than as he's pleas'd to sentence, or forgive.
I could to 
Romes concernment add how base,
Mean, and below a man, the action was;
I could demand to have the murther'd Maid,
His Valours triumph, in your presence laid:
You then would see the yet warm Crimson rise,
And blushing blame a Brother's cruelties.
So sad a sight no Advocate would need,
Her Youth and Beauty would for justice plead:
But I abhor in such a case as this,
All ways that bear a shew of Artifice.
To morrow you have set apart to pay
Your Vows to Heav'n for this victorious day:
And can you think those Deities, that bear
Thunder t' avenge the innocent sufferer,
Will deign t' accept of Incense from a hand
In a black Parricide so lately stain'd?


[Page 63] So great a Sacriledge would draw on you
The vengeance that to him alone is due.
Look on him then as one whom Heav'n does hate,
And that wherein he has been fortunate,

Romes stars have more by their own influence done,
Than by the Valour of their Champion:
Since the same Gods who did his Conquest crown,
Permit him thus to blemish his renown;
And in one day, after exploits so high,
To claim a Triumph, and deserve to dye.
This, Sir, is that your judgment must decide,

Rome here has suffer'd the first Parricide,
The consequence, and Heaven's displeasure, are
The things Religion teaches us to fear;
Preserve your people from his insolence,
And appease Heav'n by cens'ring his offence.
Tullius.

Horace, make your defence.
Horace.
Sir to what end,
Should I an act you know so well defend?
Your judgment's Law, though it pronounce me dead.
'Gainst Kings results, Offenders vainly plead,
And the most innocent the Sun can show,
When Kings conclude them criminal, are so.
Nay, 'tis a crime t'excuse our selves to those
Who by their title, may our lives dispose;
And when they cut us off we must believe
It is because we are unfit to live.
Pronounce my doom then Sir, I will obey't;
The life that others love, I ought to hate:
Nor do I think 
Valerius too severe,
He prosecutes his Mistriss murtherer.
I do with him against my self conspire,
He would my death, and 'tis my own desire;
With this distinction, that I think by that
To keep my honour in its present height;
Whereas he thinks thereby to blot that name
I would perpetuate to live in Fame▪


[Page 64] We rarely meet occasions, Sir, wherein
A hearts whole stock of courage may be seen:
Valour acts more, or less, as time doth fit,
And as occasion serves or hinders it,
And manly, or effeminate, appears
At the discretion of the censurers.
The common sort, whose understandings be
By ignorance limited to what they see,
Proportion force by its effects, and guess
At Valour, as effects are more or less;
Expecting vainly, that who wonders do,
Blest once by Fortune, should do always so.
After an act illustriously bright,
All that seem less darken that actions light.
Men look we always should in every place
Perform our actions with an equal grace;
Without considering in th' occasion
What could have been, or more, or better done;
Nor seeing that in actions of less fame,
Th' occasion's less, the vertue still the same.
Great names by this injustice are defac'd,
Mens first Acts honours perish in their last:
And who once reaches a supream renown,
If he will hold it there, must there sit down.
I shall not boast what honour I have got,
Your self, great Sir, saw my three Combats fought:
But 'twill be hard ever again to find
An opportunity of such a kind,
To crown my Valours worth with a success
That must not after these exploits go less.
So that to give my Fame immortal breath,
I have no way, but by immediate death.
I should have dy'd before, nor liv'd so long;
I've liv'd already to my Glory's wrong.
A man like me perceives his name decays,
When but in danger of the least disgrace;
And my own hand e're this had clear'd the doubt,
But my blood's yours, and dare not 
 [...] out,


[Page 65] Without your leave: Sir, your allowance must
Precede that action, else it were unjust.

Rome wants no generous Warriors, there are those,
When I am gone, will fight her bravest foes
As well as I have done, and pluck fresh boughs
Of greener Laurel to adorn her brows.
Then with an useless man (great Sir) dispence,
And if my acts deserve a recompence,
Let this be it, that with this conqu'ring Arm,
Still with the vigour of late action warm,
I sacrifice my self to my own fame,
Without a mention of my Sisters name.

Scena Tertia.Tullius. Valerius. Horace the Father. Horace. Sabina and Iulia.
Sabina.
Oh hear her Sir, in whose afflicted mind
A Wifes and Sisters sorrows are combin'd;
Who desolate at your sacred feet, in tears
Laments her Race, and for her Husband fears.
Not that I would by Artifice withdraw
A guilty man from the offended Law;
Use him like one, maugre his Victories,
But the brave Criminal in me chastise.
Let my unhappy blood his forfeit pay,
The Victim's still the same, nor can you say
Your justice is by pity overcome,
Whilst I his dearer part, abide your doom.
His matchless love makes it appear he lives
In his own person less, than in his Wives:
And he, if I be sacrific'd, thereby
A sadder death, than in himself, shall dye.
The death Ibeg, and which I must obtain,
Will finishmine, but aggravate his pain.


[Page 66] Behold Sir, here th' excesses of my woe,
And the sad state my life's reduc't unto.
How can I without horror e're embrace
A man whose Sword has murther'd all my race;
And without wickedness a Husband hate,
For his brave Service to his Prince and State?
By death, then Sir, preserve me from the Crime
Either of loving, or not loving him.
In this extremity I shall embrace
The heaviest sentence for the greatest grace,
I soon, alas! with this weak arm could do
The thing for which I do so humbly sue:
But Death will be more welcome, if thereby
I may redeem my Husbands infamy:
If by my blood I may those Deities,
His severe vertue may have mov'd, appease,
Atone 
Camilla's angry Ghost, and save
To 
Rome a man so fortunate and brave.

Horace the Father speaking to the King▪
I that defence Sir then must undertake,
My Son and Daughter unconcern'd forsake;
They with 
Valerius side, and are all three
Combin'd together in conspiracy
Against that little blood does yet remain
From War and Ruine, to restore my name.

Speaking to Sabina.
Thou who by fruitless sorrows, which oppose
The duty that a Wife the Husband owes,
Thy Husband would'st forsake, and desperate,
Accompany thy Brothers in their Fate:
Go rather, and consult their generous Ghosts;
'Tis true, their lives by 
Horace hand they lost:
But 'twas in 
Alba's quarrel that they dy'd,
And they in that are fully satisfi'd.


[Page 67] Since Heav'n destin'd 
Alba for a slave,
(If there remain remembrance in the Grave)
They less repine at their mishap and wounds,
Being the glory unto us redounds.
Thy frantick sorrow they will all disclaim,
Thy sighs, and tears, will disapprove, and blame,
And will condemn the horror thou putst on,
For such a Husband has so bravely done.

Sabina be their Sister, try your tears,
And do your duty, as they have done theirs.
Speaking to the King.

Valerius animates himself in vain,
Against this noble Hero to complain.
A sudden passion in the course of time
Was never yet reputed for a Crime;
Rather than punishment, it merits praise
When vertue does that sudden passion raise,
To love even to Idolatry our foes,
And curse our Country for their overthrows:
These are call'd Crimes, these the offences were,
He could not even in his Sister spare.
His love to 
Rome, and her concerns alone
Prompted his hand to execution.
Had not his Countries love tempted his spleen,
He at this instant innocent had been.
How strangely do I talk! what was't I meant
To say he had been; he is innocent:
Or Sir, I had with my own hand e're this
Punish'd the forfeit, had he done amiss;
I should have made the sovereign pow'r known,
That Nature gives a Father o're his Son.
Sir, I love honour, nor can brook disgrace,
Much less a Crime unpunish'd in my Race.
[
pointing to Valerius.


[Page 68] Of which I only shall his witness need,
He can resolve you what my rage decreed,
When (ign'rant yet of one half of the fight)
I thought 
Rome ruin'd in his shameful flight.
I wonder who bids him busie his cares
About my private Family-affairs?
I wonder whence the priviledge he draws,
Without my leave to plead my Daughters cause?
Or by what right does he an int'rest claim,
Where I her Father unoffended am?
But 'tis objected as a politick care,
That others may the like misfortune share,
Sir, we are only jealous of the shame
That in particular concerns our name;
And letting others infamies alone,
Do only bash at those which are our own.

Turning to Valerius.
Thou may'st 
Valerius weep before his face,
He's only angry at the Crimes on's Race:
None, save those of his blood, can blast those boughs▪
Of living Laurel that adorn his brows.
Ye sacred wreaths, that Envy wishes dead,
You, who from thunder have secur'd his head;
Will you that sacred head abandon now,
Unto a despicable Hangman's blow?
Will ye, O 
Romans, on a day like this,
See and permit the bloody Sacrifice▪
Of that victorious Champion; but for whom,
And his brave Valour, 
Rome had been no 
Rome?
And suffer here a 
Roman to defame
With accusations his illustrious name!

Valerius say, where would'st thou have him dye,
What Scene is proper for his Tragedy?
Within these Walls, where still the people raise
High Acclamations to his Valours praise?


[Page 69] Or in the Camp yet fuming with a flood
Of the late conquer'd 
Curiatiis blood?
Or else amongst the 
Alban Heroes Tombs?
Sure that place worst the Tragedy becomes.
That honourable Field that witnesses
At once his prowess and our brave success.
Thou canst not possibly choose out a place,
To be the Theatre of his disgrace,
Wherein his noble conquests will not rise
In glory, to reproach your cruelties.
The Camp, the Lists, within, without the Town,
All places eccho with his high renown.
All things oppose, and all men disapprove
The vain attempts of thy unjuster Love,
That would with blood so 
Roman, and so pure,
The glory of so bright a day obscure.

Alba her self that object cannot see,
And 
Rome with tears will stay that Tragedy.
Speaking to the King.
But Sir, your justice will prevent that doom,
You understand the interests of 
Rome.
What he has done he yet may do again,
And once more may her liberty maintain;
Give nothing to my Age, Sir, in this case.
To day I Father of four Children was,
Of which three in 
Rome's Quarrels buried are,
One I have left, reserve him, Sir, for her.
Rob not this City by his Sacrifice
Of that defence which in his Valour lies;
And give me your permission, that I may
Direct to him, what I have left to say.
Speaking to 
Horace.

Horatio do not think the common bruit
Can raise, or lessen a brave man's repute.


[Page 70] The rabble ever do delight in noise,
But in a trice, change their inconstant voice:
And the renown they give us bears no date,
But perishes as illegitimate.
It is for Kings, great ones, for souls that are
Advanc'd above the common pitch by far,
To censure vertue, to discern, and know
The noble spirits from the mean and low.
From them alone a true renown proceeds,
And they alone record illustrious deeds.
Do always like thy self, thy glory then
Shall live, and flourish amongst worthy men;
Although a less occasion may perchance
Abuse short-sighted vulgar ignorance.
Abhor thy life no more, but live, at least
For mine, thy Kings, and Countries interest.
Live, 
Romes opposers bravely to oppose,
And fight her Battels with the bravest foes.
Sir, I have said too much, though the affair
May well excuse a Father in his care.
I have pronounc'd the general sence of 
Rome,
And now expecting stay your final doom.
Valerius.
Sir give me leave.—
Tullius.

Valerius no more,
I yet retain all you have said before,
And have consider'd every circumstance,
Reason, and word, that serves to prove th' offence.
This bloody fact committed in despight
Of Law, and Justice, almost in our sight,
Violates Nature, nay doth higher rise,
With humane rage to wound the Deities;
And sudden passions that such crimes produce,
For facts like this, are but a weak excuse.
Our most indulgent Laws herein speak high,
And by their censure he deserves to die.
If by another way, and less severe,
We do consider the offender here,


[Page 71] His crime, though inexcusable, proceeds
From the same Sword and Arm have done those deeds;
By whose effects 
Rome bravely overcame,
And I a King of two great people am.
The double Crown on 
Romes Imperial Head,
In favour of his life does highly plead:
But for his Valour, I who now do sway
A two-fold Scepter, had been forc'd t'obey;
And where I sit a double Monarch Crown'd,
Had been a Captive made, subdu'd, and bound.
Many good Subjects in their Countries Wars
Can only serve their Princes by their pray'rs.
All men may love their Kings, but every one
Cannot secure their States as he has done.
The art, and power to establish Thrones,
Are vertues Heaven gives few private ones.
Such Servants are the Nerves, and strength of Kings,
The Props of Kingdoms, and the glorious things
They do and suffer in their Countries Cause,
Seats them above the censure of the Laws.
Let them be silent then, and here let 
Rome
Forbear to utter an ungrateful doom
On an offence she saw before, when yet
She had no name, her 
Romulus commit;
In her Deliverer she may forbear
The fault she could in her rash Founder spare.
Live then brave Souldier, spirit too sublime,
Thy vertue sets thy glory 'bove thy Crime.
Since generosity th' offence did make,
Th' effect we pardon for the causes sake.
Live to thy Countries noblest, bravest ends;
But I must have you and 
Valerius friends;
And in a friendship such as shall permit
Fury, nor malice to extinguish it.
And whether love, or obligation were
The motives made him prosecute you here,
Of what is past no memory retain,
But reconcile him to your love again.


[Page 72] And sweet 
Sabina, let your great heart chase
These marks of frailty from your lovely face.
You can their Sister you lament express
In nothing more, than in lamenting less.
But we to morrow set apart to pay
Thanks to the Gods for this victorious day;
And Heaven would with an averted face
Receive our Vows, and would withdraw his grace,
Should not our Priests e're we begin, take care
To purifie th' unhappy Conqueror.
Be that his Fathers task, he may with ease
At the same time 
Camilla's Ghost appease.
I pity her, and wish her soul may have
What satisfaction can be in the Grave;
Since in one day, one zeal's ungovern'd heat
Did her brave Lovers, and her Fate compleat.
The day that saw them dye, e're hence he goes
Shall see one Monument their Corps enclose.
The King rises, and all follow him except 
Julia.

Scena Quarta.

Iulia.

Heav'n sweet 
Camilla did foretell,
The Tragical event drew nigh;
But did the secret part conceal,
From the most piercing Judgment's eye:
It seem'd to speak of Nuptial Joys,
It seem'd to sooth thy innocence,
And did thy Death the while disguise,
Deluding our intelligence.

"Alba and 
Rome to morrow shall surcease
"Their Iars, thy Vows are heard, they shall have peace,
"And thou be joyn'd to 
Curiace in a tie,
"Never to be dissolv'd by Destiny.

[Page 73]

SONG.

(1.)
HOw frailty makes us to our wrong
Fear, and be loth to dye,
When Life is only dying long
And Death the remedy!
We shun eternity,
And still would grovel here beneath,
Though still in woe and strife,
When Life's the path that leads to Death,
And Death the door to Life.

(2.)
The Fear of Death is the disease
Makes the poor patient smart;
Vain apprehensions often freeze
The vitals in the heart,
Without the dreaded Dart.
When fury rides on pointed steel
Deaths fear the heart doth seize,
Whilst in that very fear we feel
A greater sting than his.

(3.)
But chaste 
Camilla's vertuous fear
Was of a nobler kind,
Not of her end approaching near
But to be left behind,
From her dear Love disjoyn'd;


[Page 74]When Death in courtesie decreed,
To make the fair his prize,
And by one cruelty her freed
From humane cruelties.

CHORVS.
Thus Heav'n does his will disguise,
To scourge our curiosities,
When too inquisitive we grow
Of what we are forbid to know.
Fond humane nature that will try
To sound th' Abiss of Destiny!
Alas! what profit can arise
From those forbidden scrutinies,
When Oracles what they foretel
In such Aenigma's still conceal,
That self-indulging man still makes
Of deepest truths most sad mistakes!
Or could our frailty comprehend
The reach those riddles do intend:
What boots it us when we have done,
To foresee ills we cannot shun?
But 'tis in man a vain pretence,
To know or prophesie events,
Which only execute, and move,
By a dependence from above.
'Tis all imposture to deceive
The foolish and inquisitive,
Since none foresee what shall befal,
But Providence that governs all.
Reason wherewith kind Heav'n has blest
His creature man above the rest,
Will teach humanity to know
All that it should aspire unto;
And whatsoever fool relies
On false deceiving prophesies,


[Page 75] Striving by conduct to evade
The harms they threaten, or perswade,
Too frequently himself does run
Into the danger he would shun,
And pulls upon himself the woe
Fate meant he should much later know.
By such delusions vertue strays
Out of those honourable ways
That lead unto that glorious end,
To which the noble ever bend.
Whereas if vertue were the guide,
Mens minds would then be fortifi'd
With constancy, that would declare
Against supineness, and despair.
We should events with patience wait,
And nor despise, nor fear our Fate.

The end of the Fifth and last Act.

FINIS.

[Page]

A Catalogue of some Books Printed for Henry Brome since the dreadful Fire in London.

THE History of the Life of the Duke of Espernon the great Favourite of France; wherein the History of France is continued from 1598. where D' Avila leaves off down to our times, 1642. in folio, price 16 s.

Scarronnides, or Virgil Travestie, a Mock-Poem on the first and 4th. Book of Virgil in English Burlesque: price 1 s. 6. d. Both by Charles Cotton Esquire.

Elvira, a Comedy, or the worst not always true: by the Earl of Bristol: price 1 s.

Mr. Simpsons Division Viol: in folio, price 8 s.

His Compendium of Practical Musick, octavo, price bound 2 s.

Erasmus Colloquies in English: price 5 s.

A Treatise wherein is demonstrated, that the Church and State of England are in equal danger with the Trade: in quarto: price I s. 6 d. By Roger Coke Esquire.

Bromes Songs and Poems, in octavo: price 3 s.

His Translation of Horace, with other worthy Persons: price 4 s.

The Gentleman Apothecary, being a late and true Story turned out of French: price 6 d.

[Page]

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