Cic. [To an officer, and interrupting Catiline.]
Give up the record of
[The officer gives it to the consul.]
Cat. [With indignation.] Banished from Rome! What's ban
I loathe ?
who says this?
my head?
It breaks my chain !
this hour-
Smile on, my lords!
From daily contact of the things
"Tried and convicted traitor!"
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on
Banished? I thank you for 't!
I held some slack allegiance till
But now my sword 's my own.
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities!
But here I stand and scoff you!- here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face!
Your consul's merciful. For this, all thanks!
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline!
Consul. [Reads.] "Lucius Sergius Catiline! by the decree of the senate, you are declared an enemy and alien to the state, and banished from the territory of the commonwealth!" [Turning to the lictors.] Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple! Cat. [Frantic.] "Traitor!" I go-but I return! This trial!: Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,
And make the infant's sinews strong as steel.
This day 's the birth of sorrows!
Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths, my lords!
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus! - all shames and crimes;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!
Senators. [Rising in confusion, cry out,] Go, enemy and parricide, Cic. Expel him lictors! clear the senate-house!
Cat. [Struggling through the lictors surrounding him.]
I go! but not to leap the gulf alone.
I go! but when I come, 't will be the burst
Of ocean in the earthquake — rolling back
In swift and mountainous ruin! Fare you well!
You build my funeral pile, but your best blood
Shall quench its flame!
[To the lictors.] Back, slaves! I will [Exeunt.]
A SCENE FROM VENICE PRESERVED.
[Enter Priuli and Jaffier.]
Priuli. No more! I'll hear no more! begone, and leave me!
Jaffier. Not hear me! by my sufferings, but you shall!
My lord-my lord! I'm not that abject wretch
You think me. Patience! where 's the distance throws
Me back so far, but I may boldly speak
In right, though proud oppression will not hear me?
Pri. Have you not wronged me?
Jaf. Could my nature e'er
Have brooked injustice, or the doing wrongs,
I need not now thus low have bent myself,
To gain a hearing from a cruel father.
Wronged you?
Pri. Yes, wronged me! in the nicest point,
The honor of my house, you've done me wrong.
You may remember, (for I now will speak,
And urge its baseness,) when you first came home
From travel, with such hopes as made you looked on,
By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation,
Pleased with your growing virtue, I received you;
Courted, and sought to raise you to your merits;
My house, my table, nay, my fortune too,
My very self, was yours; you might have used me
To best service; like an open friend
I treated, trusted you, and thought you mine;
When, in requital of my best endeavors,
You treacherously practised to undo me;
And stole her from my bosom,
My only child! Oh! Belvidera!
Jaf. 'Tis to me you owe her:
Childless had you been else, and in the grave
Your name extinct; no more Priuli heard of.
You may remember, scarce five years are past,
Since, in your brigantine, you sailed to see
The Adriatic wedded by our duke;
And I was with you: your skilful pilot
Dashed us upon a rock; when, to your boat,
You made for safety; entered first yourself;
The affrighted Belvidera followed next,
As she stood trembling on the vessel's side,
Was by a wave washed off into the deep;
When instantly I plunged into the sea,
And, buffeting the billows to her rescue,
Redeemed her life with half the loss of mine.
Like a rich conquest, in one hand I bore her,
And with the other dashed the saucy waves,
That thronged and pressed to rob me of my prize.
I brought her unto your despairing arms;
Indeed you thanked me; but a nobler gratitude
Rose in her soul; for from that hour she loved me,
Till for her life she paid me with herself.
Pri. You stole her from me! like a thief you stole her,
At dead of night! that cursed hour you chose
To rifle me of all my heart held dear!
May the hard hand of a vexatious need
Oppress and grind you, till at last
you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion!
Jaf. Were I that thief, the doer of such wrongs
As you upbraid me with, what hinders me
But I might send her back to you with contumely,
And court my fortune where she would be kinder?
Pri. You dare not do 't!
Jaf. Indeed, my lord, I dare not.
My heart, that awes me, is too much my master:
Three years are passed since first our vows were plighted,
During which time, the world must bear me witness,
I've treated Belvidera like your daughter,
The daughter of a senator of Venice:
Distinction, place, attendance, and observance,
Due to her birth, she always has commanded:
Out of my little fortune I've done this;
Because (though hopeless e'er to win your nature)
The world might see I loved her for herself;
Not as the heiress of the great Priuli.
Jaf. Yes, all, and then adieu forever!
There's not a wretch, that lives on common charity,
But's happier than me; for I have known
The precious sweets of plenty; every night
Have slept with soft content about my head,
And never woke but to a joyful morning :
Yet now must fall, like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom 'scaped, yet 's withered in the ripening!
Pri. Home, and be humble! study to retrench;
Discharge the lazy servants in thy hall,
Those pageants of thy folly!
Reduce the glittering trappings of thy wife
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state;
Then, to some suburb cottage, both retire;
Drudge to feed loathsome life!
Home, home, I say!
Jaf. Yes, if my heart would let me·
This proud, this swelling heart!-home I would go,
But that my doors are hateful to my eyes,
Filled and crowded with gaping creditors:
I've now not fifty ducats in the world,
Yet still I am in love, and please with ruin!
O Belvidera! Oh! she is my wife —
And we will bear our wayward fate together,
But ne'er know comfort more!
Belvidera. My lord, my love, my refuge!
Happy my eyes when they behold thy face!
My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating,
At sight of thee, and bound with sprightly joys.
Oh, smile, as formerly you aye were wont,
And cheer my fainting soul!
Jaf. As when our loves
Were in their spring! Has, then, my fortune changed thee? Art thou not, Belvidera, still the same,
Kind, good, and tender, as my arms first found thee?
If thou art altered, where shall I have harbor?
Where ease my loaded heart? Oh! where complain?
Bel. Does this appear like change, or love decaying,
When thus I throw myself into thy presence,
With all the resolution of strong truth?
Jaf. Can there, in woman, be such glorious faith?
Sure, all ill stories of thy sex are false !
Oh, woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee
To temper man: we had been brutes without you!
Bel. If love be treasure, we 'll be wondrous rich;
Oh! lead me to some desert wide and wild,
Barren as are our fortunes, where my soul
May have its vent, where I may tell aloud
To the high heavens, and every listening planet,
With what a boundless stock my bosom 's fraught!
Jaf. Oh, Belvidera! doubly I'm a beggar:
Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee!
Want, worldly want, that hungry, meagre fiend,
Is at my heels, and chases me in view!
Canst thou bear cold and hunger? Can these limbs,
Framed for the tender offices of love,
Endure the bitterness of smarting poverty ?
When banished by our miseries abroad,
(As suddenly we shall be,) to seek out
In some far climate, where our names are strangers,
Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then
Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love?
Bel. Though the bare earth be all our resting-place,
Its roots our food, some cliff our habitation,
My deep affection shall be none the less!
Jaf. Hear this, you Heavens, and wonder how you made
Reign, reign, ye monarchs, that divide the world!
Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know
Tranquillity and happiness like mine;
Like gaudy ships, the obsequious billows fall,
And rise again, to lift you in your pride;
They wait but for a storm, and then devour you!
I, in my private bark, already wrecked,
Like a poor merchant, driven to unknown land,
That had, by chance, packed up his choicest treasure
In one dear casket, and saved only that:
Since I must wander further on the shore,
Thus prize my little, but my precious store,
Resolved to scorn and trust my fate no more.
I came, the first of a radiant band,
Sent out on the earth by God's own hand;
I came ere the breath of life was given
To him who was made in the image of Heaven.
But darkness rose, and the serpent's breath
On the garden fell, with the scourge of death!
Our band was broken- and since that hour
We've met no more as in Eden's bower.
Our meetings are short, and we find no home,
But apart o'er the world our spirits roam,
And the spirit of Love is oft-times lone.
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