by Thomas Otway
Sulpit.
Think of him as a Wretch that’s dead,
Stabb’d with an Eye, run through the Brains with Love.
Gran.
He talkt of sending Sylla a Defiance.
Sulpit.
Writ with a Pen made of a Cupid’s Quill.
Gran.
Why, what is Sylla?
Sulpit.
A most courageous Captain at a Congee:
He fights by measure, as your Artists sing,
Keeps Distance, Time, Proportion, rests his Rests,
One, two, and the third in your Guts.
Oh! he’s the very Butcher of a Button.
Gran.
Would I could see my Brother. That damn’d love
Of Women ruins noblest purposes.
Sulpit.
That Sex was first in mockery of us made.
They are the false deceitfull Glasses where
We gaze, and dress our selves to all the shapes
Of Folly. What is’t Women cannot doe?
She’ll make a States-man quite forget his Cunning,
And trust his dearest Secrets to her Breast,
Where Fops have daily entrance: make a Priest,
Forgetting the hypocrisy of’s Office,
Dance and show tricks, to prove his strength and brawn:
Make a Projector quibble, an old Judge
Put on False hair, and paint: and after all,
Though she be known the lewdest of her Sex,
She’ll make some Fool or other think she’s honest.
Your Father promis’d me to meet me here.
I wonder he delays so long.
Gran.
He comes.
And with him too my Brother.
Sulpit.
See your General,
Salute him all my Fellow-souldiers.
[Shout.
Mar. sen.
This,
Sulpitius, looks like Power. Granius, here
Receive thy Brother to thy Arms and bless him:
H’ has done a thing most worthy of our Name,
Sent a Defiance into Sylla’s Camp,
Challenging forth the stoutest Champion there,
In vindication of his Father’s Cause.
And not an Out-law there dare send his Answer.
Once more, Sulpitius, are the People ours,
Enrag’d with Sylla’s coming arm’d, to force
The City. At the Celimontane Gate
He’s posted now: let’s send him straight Commands
I’ th’ name o’ th’ Senate and the Roman People,
T’ advance no farther, till the state of Rome
Be heard in publick, and my Choice confirm’d,
Or he continu’d Consul.....
Sulpit.
That would be
But to prolong Necessity; for Rome
Must bleed: and since the Rabble now is ours,
Keep the Fools hot, preach Dangers in their Ears,
Spread false Reports o’ th’ Senate, working up
Their Madness to a Fury quick and desp’rate,
Till they run headlong into civil Discords,
And doe our business with their own Destruction.
Granius, go thou,
Send word to Sylla that he lay down Arms,
And render up himself to Rome.
Mar. Jun.
There’s still
A dangerous Wheel at work, a Thoughtfull Villain,
Cinna, wh’ has rais’d his Fortune by the Jars
And Discords of his Country: like a Fly
O’re Flesh, he buzzes about itching Ears,
Till he has vented his Infection there,
To fester into Rancour and Sedition.
Would he were safe.
Mar. sen.
And safe he shall be: let him be proscrib’d,
The Fine upon his head its weight in Gold.
Wou’d I cou’d buy Metellus’s as cheap.
I have a tender Foolishness within me
May sometimes get the better of my Rage:
Sulpitius, therefore keep me warm; still ply
My ebbing Fury with the Thoughts of Sylla,
Th’ ingratefull Senate, and Metellus Pride;
And let not any thing may make me dreadfull
Be left undone. Now to our Troups let’s hasten,
And wait for Sylla’s Answer at our Arms.
Ex. Mar. sen. & Granius.
Sulpit.
Is not this better now then whining Love?
Now thou again art Marius, son of Arms,
Thy Father’s Honour, and thy Friends Delight.
Enter Nurse and Clodius.
Mar. Jun.
Sulpitius, what comes here? a Sail, Sulpitius.
Sulpit.
A tatter’d one, and weather-beaten much.
Many a boistrous Storm has she bin toss’d in,
And many a Pilot kept her to the wind.
Nurse.
Clodius.
Clod.
Madam.
Sulpit.
Madam.
Nurse.
My Fan, Clodius.
Sulpit.
Ay, good Clodius, to hide her Face.
Nurse.
Good morrow, Gentlemen.
Sulpit.
Good even, fair Gentlewoman.
Nurse.
Fair Gentlewoman? really ’tis very hot.
Sulpit.
It should be so by your Ladyship’s parcht Face.
Nurse.
Marry come up, my Gossip: whose man are you?
Sulpit.
A Woman’s man, my Sibyll, wouldst thou try
My strength in Feats of amorous engagement.
Lead me amongst the Beauteous, where they run
Wild in their Youth, and wanton to their Wildness,
Where I may chuse the foremost of the Heard,
And bear her trembling to some Bank, bedeckt
With sweetest Flowers, such as Joy would chuse
To dwell in; throw my inspir’d Arms about her,
And press her till she thought her self more blest
Then Io panting with the Joys of Iove.
Nurse.
Panting? Joys? and Iove? now by my troth, ’tis very pretty. But, Gentlemen, can any of you tell where I may find young Marius?
Mar. Jun.
Yes, I can tell you, Madam. I am he.
Sulpit.
Hah! by this light, a Baud. So ho!
Come let’s away. I hate a morning-Bawd,
That stinks of last-night’s office.....
[Ex. Sulpit.
Nurse.
Pray, Sir, what sawcy Fellow’s he that’s gone?
Mar. Jun.
A Gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute then he’ll stand to in a month.
Nurse.
And he speak any thing against me, I’ll take him down, and he were lustier then he is, and twenty such Jacks; or I’ll find those that shall. But now, Sir, I wish you much Joy.... I hear you are —
Mar. Jun.
Marry’d, this day the blessed deed was done.
When the unhappy Discords first took flame
Betwixt my Father and the Senate; then
A holy Priest of Hymen, whom with Gold
I brib’d to yield us privately his Office,
Joyn’d our kind Hands, and now She’s ever mine.
Nurse.
Well: ‘fore God, I am so vext, that every part about me quivers. But pray, Sir, a word: and, as I told you, my young Lady bade me find you out. What she bade me say, I’ll keep to my self. But first let me tell you; if you have led her into a Fool’s Paradise, as they say; for the Gentlewoman is young, and therefore if you should deal doubly with her, though you don’t look like a Gentleman that wou’d use double-dealing with a Lady. —
Mar. Jun.
Commend me to thy Lady. I protest —
Nurse.
Good heart, and i’ faith I will tell as much. Lord! Lord! she will be a joyfull Woman.
Mar. Jun.
Bid her devise this Evening to receive
Me at her Window: here is for thy pains.....
[Gives money.
Nurse.
No truly, Sir; not a Drachma.
Mar. Jun.
Away; I say you shall.
Nurse.
This Evening, say you? well, she shall be there.
Mar. Jun.
And stay, kind Nurse, behind the Garden-wall.
Within this hour my man shall meet thee there.
And bring thee Cords made like a Tackling-Ladder,
Which to the blessed Mansion of my Joy
Must be my Conduct in the secret Night.
Farewell.... be true, and I’ll reward thy pains.
Nurse.
Now Heav’ns bless thee.... Hark you, Sir.
Mar. Jun.
What say’st thou, Nurse?
Nurse.
Nothing, but that my Mistriss is the sweetest Lady, Lord! Lord! when ’twas a little prating thing .... Oh! .... there’s a Spark, one Sylla, that wou’d fain have a finger in the py .... but she, good soul, had as lieve hear of a Toad, a very Toad, as hear of him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her Sylla is the properer man.... But I’ll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any Clout in the versall world. Well, you’ll be sure to come....
Mar. Jun.
As sure as truth.
Nurse.
Well, when it was a Little thing, and us’d to ly with me, it wou’d so kick, so sprawl, and so play .... and then I would tickle it, and then it would laugh, and then it would play agen. When it had tickling and playing enough, it would go to sleep as gently as a Lamb. I shall never forget it.... Then you’ll be sure to come....
Mar. Jun.
Can I forget to live?
Nurse.
Nay, but swear though.
Mar. Jun.
By this Kiss, which thou shalt carry to Lavinia. —
Nurse.
Oh! dear Sir, by no means. Indeed you shall not. I have bin drinking Aqua vitae. Oh! those Eyes of yours!
Mar. Jun.
Till night farewell....
Nurse.
Till night; I’ll say no more, but da da. Come, Clodius.
Ah! those Eyes!
[Ex. Nurse & Clodius.
Mar. Jun.
What pains she takes with her officious Folly?
How happy is the Evening-tide of Life,
When Phlegm has quencht our Passions, trifling out
The feeble Remnant of our filly Days
In Follies, such as Dotage best is pleas’d with,
Free from the wounding and tormenting Cares
That toss the thoughtfull, active, busy Mind?
Though this Day be the dearest of my Life,
There’s something hangs most heavy on my Heart,
And my Brain’s sick with Dulness.
Enter Marius senior.
Mar. sen.
Where’s this Loyterer,
This most inglorious Son of Cains Marius?
With folded Arms and down-cast Eyes he stands,
The Marks and Embleme of a Woman’s Fool.
Mar. Jun.
My Father.
Mar. sen.
Call me by some other Name;
Disgrace me not: I’m Marius;
And surely Marius has small right in Thee.
Would Sylla’s Soul were thine, and thine were his,
That he, as Thou hast done, now Glory calls,
Might run for shelter to a Woman’s Arms,
And hide him in her Bosome like a Babe.
Mar jun.
Then I’m a Coward.
Mar. sen.
Art thou not?
Mar. Jun.
I am,
That thus can bear Reproaches, and yet live.
Durst any man but you have call’d me so?
Oh! let me fall, embrace and kiss your Feet.
Y’have rais’d a Spirit in me prompts my Heart
To such a Work as Fame ne’r talkt of yet.
How ‘ll you dispose Lavinia?
Mar. sen.
Let her fall,
As I would all her Family and Name,
Forgotten that they either ever gave
Thy Father’s Head Dishonour, or thee Pain.
Mar. Jun.
’Twas an unlucky Sentence. She’s scarce more
Metellus Daughter now then Your’s: our Hands
Were by a Priest this morning joyn’d. May Heav’n
Avert th’ill Omen, and preserve my Father.
Mar. sen.
Marry’d? say ruin’d, lost, and curst.
Mar. Jun.
Y’ have torn
The Secret from me, and I wait your Doom.....
Mar. sen.
Go where I never more may hear thee nam’d;
Go farthest from me, get thee to Metellus,
Fall on thy Knees, and henceforth call him Parent.
I ‘ve yet one Son, that surely wo’n’t forsake me:
Else in this Breast I still have glorious Thoughts,
That will at least give Lustre to my Ruine.
Farewell.... my once best Hopes, now greatest Shame.
Mar. Jun.
Condemn me rather to the worst of Deaths,
Or send me chain’d to Sylla like a Slave,
Then banish me the blessing of your Presence.
I ‘ve thought and bounded all my Wishes so,
To dy for You is Happiness enough;
’Twould be too much t’ enjoy Lavinia too.
Mar. sen.
Again Lavinia?
Mar. Jun.
Yes, this Coward Slave,
This most inglorious Son of Caius Marius,
Though wedded to the brightest Beauty, rais’d
To th’highest expectation of Delight,
Ev’n in this Minute when Love prompts his Heart,
And tells what mighty Pleasures are preparing,
Is Master of a Mind unfetter’d yet.
Mar. sen.
What canst thou doe?
Mar. Jun.
This Night I should have gone,
And ta’ne possession of Lavinia’s Bed.
But by the Gods, these Eyes no more shall see her,
Till I ‘ve done something that’s above Reward,
And you your self present her to my Arms.
Mar. sen.
Why dost thou talk thus to me?
[Trumpets.
Mar. Jun.
Hark,
The Trumpets sound, and Business is at hand.
It seems as if our Guards upon the Walls
Were just engag’d, and Sylla come upon ’em.
The Gods have done me Justice.
Mar. sen.
Get thee gone,
And leave me to my Fate,
Thou maim’d and wounded, and unfit for War.
Mar. Jun.
I’ll follow you.....
Mar. sen.
Thou shalt not.
Mar. Jun.
By the Gods, I will.
Mar. sen.
How? disobey’d then?
Mar. Jun.
Bid a Courser spurr’d
Stop in his full Career; bid Tides run back,
Or sailing Ships stand still before the wind,
Or Winds themselves not blow when Iove provokes ’em.
Mar. sen.
Away, and do not tempt my Fury father.
Mar. Jun.
Why? would you kill me?
Mar. sen.
No, no: I hope thou art reserv’d yet for
A better Fate.
Mar. Jun.
Thanks, Heav’n:
These few kind words shew I’m not quite unhappy.
Mar. sen.
Then do not contradict my will in this;
But part, and when ou
r hands next meet agen,
Be’t in the Heart of Sylla or Metellus....
[Exit.
[Trumpets agen.
Mar. Jun.
Sound higher, ye shrill Instruments of War,
And urge its Horrours up, till they become,
If possible, as terrible as mine.
Oh my Lavinia! though this Night I fail,
At my return I shall be doubly happy.
Such Trials the great ancient Hero’s past,
Who little present Happiness could tast,
Yet did great Actions, and were Gods at last.
[Exit.
SCENE METELLUS HOUSE.
Enter Lavinia.
Lavin.
GALLOP apace, ye firy-footed Steeds,
Tow’rds Phoebus Lodging. Such a Charioteer
As Phaeton would lash you to the West,
And bring in cloudy Night immediately.
Spread thy close Curtains Love-performing Night
To sober-suited Matron all in black;
That jealous eyes may wink, and Marius
Leap to these Arms untalkt-of and unseen.
Oh! give me Marius; and when he shall dy,
Take him, and cut him out in little Stars;
And he will make the Face of Heav’n so fine,
That all the world shall grow in love with Night,
And pay no worship to the gaudy Sun.
Oh! I have bought the Mansion of a Love,
But not possest it.... Tedious is this Day,
As is the Night before some Festival
To an impatient Child that has new Robes,
Enter Nurse and Clodius.
And may not wear ’em. Welcome, Nurse: what news?
How fares the Lord of all my Joys, my Marius?
Nurse.
Oh! a Chair! a Chair! no Questions, but a Chair! So.
Livin.
Nay, prithee Nurse, why dost thou look so sad?
Oh! do not spoil the Musick of good Tidings
With such a melancholick wretched Face.
Nurse.
Oh! I am weary, very weary. Clodius, my Cordial-bottle.
Fy! how my bones ake! what a Jaunt have I had!
Lavin.
Do not delay me thus, but quickly tell me,
Will Marius come to night? speak, will he come?
Nurse.
Alas! alas! what haste? oh! cannot you stay a little? oh! do not you see that I’m out of breath? oh this Pisick! Clodius, the Cordial.
Lavin.
Th’ Excuse thou mak’st for this unkind Delay
Is longer then the Tale thou hast to tell.
Is thy News good or bad? answer to that.
Say either, and I’ll stay the Circumstance.
Nurse.
Well, you have made a simple Choice: you know not how to chuse a man. Yet his Leg excells all mens. And for a Hand and a Foot and a Shape, though they are not to be talkt of.... yet they are past compare. What, have you Din’d within?
Lavin.
No, no what foolish Questions dost thou ask?
What says he of his Coming? what of that?
