A Select Collection of Old English Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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OCTAVIUS. We will submit our honours to their wills: You, ancient citizens, come follow me.
[_Exit_ OCTAVIUS; _with him_ ANTHONY _and_ LEPIDUS.
CINNA. High Jove himself hath done too much for thee, Else should this blade abate thy royalty.
Well, young Italian citizens, take heart, He is at hand that will maintain your right; That, entering in these fatal gates of Rome, Shall make them tremble that disturb you now.
You of Preneste and of Formiae, With other neighbouring cities in Campania, Prepare to entertain and succour Marius.
YOUNG CITIZEN. For him we live, for him we mean to die.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ OLD MARIUS _with his_ KEEPER _and two_ SOLDIERS.
MARIUS. Have these Minturnians, then, so cruelly Presum'd so great injustice 'gainst their friends?
JAILER. Ay, Marius, all our n.o.bles have decreed To send thy head a present unto Rome.
MARIUS. A Tantal's present it will prove, my friend, Which with a little smarting stress will end Old Marius' life, when Rome itself at last Shall rue my loss, and then revenge my death.
But tell me, jailer, could'st thou be content, In being Marius, for to brook this wrong.
JAILER. The high estate your lords.h.i.+p once did wield, The many friends that fawn'd, when fortune smil'd, Your great promotions and your mighty wealth, These, were I Marius, would amate me so,[120]
As loss of them would vex me more than death.
MARIUS. Is lords.h.i.+p then so great a bliss, my friend?
JAILER. No t.i.tle may compare with princely rule.
MARIUS. Are friends so faithful pledges of delight?
JAILER. What better comforts than are faithful friends?
MARIUS. Is wealth a mean to lengthen life's content?
JAILER. Where great possessions bide, what care can touch?
MARIUS. These stales[121] of fortune are the common plagues, That still mislead the thoughts of simple men.
The shepherd-swain that, 'midst his country-cot, Deludes his broken slumbers by his toil, Thinks lords.h.i.+p sweet, where care with lords.h.i.+p dwells.
The trustful man that builds on trothless vows, Whose simple thoughts are cross'd with scornful nays, Together weeps the loss of wealth and friend: So lords.h.i.+p, friends, wealth spring and perish fast, Where death alone yields happy life at last.
O gentle governor of my contents, Thou sacred chieftain of our capitol, Who in thy crystal orbs with glorious gleams Lend'st looks of pity mix'd with majesty, See woful Marius careful for his son, Careless of lords.h.i.+p, wealth, or worldly means, Content to live, yet living still to die: Whose nerves and veins, whose sinews, by the sword Must lose their workings through distempering stroke, But yet whose mind, in spite of fate and all, Shall live by fame, although the body fall.
JAILER. Why mourneth Marius this recureless chance?
MARIUS. I pray thee, jailer, would'st thou gladly die?
JAILER. If needs, I would.
MARIUS. Yet were you loth to try?
JAILER. Why, n.o.ble lord, when goods, friends, fortune fail, What more than death might woful man avail?
MARIUS. Who calls for death, my friend, for all his scorns?
With Aesop's slave will leave his bush of thorns.
But since these trait'rous lords will have my head, Their lords.h.i.+ps here upon this homely bed Shall find me sleeping, breathing forth my breath, Till they their shame, and I my fame, attain by death.
Live, gentle Marius, to revenge my wrong!
And, sirrah, see they stay not over-long; For he that erst hath conquer'd kingdoms many, Disdains in death to be subdu'd by any.
[_He lies down_.
_Enter_ LUCIUS FAVORINUS, PAUSANIUS, _with_ PEDRO, _a Frenchman_.
JAILER. The most undaunted words that ever were.
The mighty thoughts of his imperious mind, Do wound my heart with terror and remorse.
PAUSANIUS. 'Tis desperate, not perfect n.o.bleness: For to a man that is prepar'd to die, The heart should rend, the sleep should leave the eye.
But say, Pedro, will you do the deed?
PEDRO.[122] Mon monsieurs, per la sang Dieu, me will make a trou so large in ce belly, dat he sal cry hough, come un porceau. Featre de lay, il a tue me fadre, he kill my modre. Faith a my trote mon espee fera le fay dun soldat, sau sau. Ieievera come il founta pary: me will make a spitch-c.o.c.k of his persona.
L. FAVORINUS. If he have slain thy father and thy friends, The greater honour shall betide the deed; For to revenge on righteous estimate Beseems the honour of a Frenchman's name.
PEDRO. Mes messiers, de fault avoir argent; me no point de argent, no point kill Marius.
PAUSANIUS. Thou shalt have forty crowns; will that content thee?
PEDRO. Quarante escus, per le pied de madam, me give more dan foure to se prittie damosele, dat have le dulces t.i.ttinos, le levres Cymbrines.
O, they be fines!
L. FAVORINUS. Great is the hire, and little is the pain; Make therefore quick despatch, and look for gain.
See where he lies in drawing on his death, Whose eyes, in gentle slumber sealed up, Present no dreadful visions to his heart.
PEDRO. Bien, monsieur, je demourera content: Marius, tu es mort. Speak dy preres in dy sleepe, for me sal cut off your head from your epaules, before you wake. Qui es stia? what kinde a man be dis?
L. FAVORINUS. Why, what delays are these? why gaze ye thus?
PEDRO. Nostre dame! Jesu! estiene! O my siniors, der be a great diable in ce eyes, qui dart de flame, and with de voice d'un bear cries out, Villain! dare you kill Marius? Je tremble: aida me, siniors, autrement I shall be murdered.
PAUSANIUS. What sudden madness daunts this stranger thus?
PEDRO. O me, no can kill Marius; me no dare kill Marius! adieu, messieurs, me be dead, si je touche Marius. Marius est un diable.
Jesu Maria, sava moy![123]
[_Exit fugiens_.
PAUSANIUS. What fury haunts this wretch on sudden thus?
L. FAVORINUS. Ah, my Pausanius, I have often heard, That yonder Marius in his infancy Was born to greater fortunes than we deem: For, being scarce from out his cradle crept, And sporting prettily with his compeers, On sudden seven young eagles soar'd amain, And kindly perch'd upon his tender lap.
His parents, wondering at this strange event, Took counsel of the soothsayers in this; Who told them that these sevenfold eagles' flight Forefigured his seven times consuls.h.i.+p:[124]
And we ourselves (except bewitch'd with pride) Have seen him six times in the capitol, Accompanied with rods and axes too.
And some divine instinct so presseth me, That sore I tremble, till I set him free.
PAUSANIUS. The like a.s.saults attain my wand'ring mind, Seeing our bootless war with matchless fate.