Volume Vii Part 22 (1/2)

MARIUS. By'r lady,[140] Fulvia, you are gaily read: Your mother well may boast you for her own; For both of you have words and scoffs at will.

And since I like the compa.s.s of your wit, Myself will stand, and, ladies, you shall sit.

And, if you please to wade in farther words, Let's see what brawls your memories affords.

CORNELIA. Your lords.h.i.+p's pa.s.sing mannerly in jest; But that you may perceive we smell your drift, We both will sit, and countenance your s.h.i.+ft.

MARIUS. Where constancy and beauty do consort, There ladies' threatenings turn to merry sport.

How fare these beautiful? what, well at ease?

FULVIA. As ready as at first for to displease; For, full confirm'd that we shall surely die, We wait our ends with Roman constancy.

MARIUS. Why, think you Marius hath confirm'd your death?

FULVIA. What other fruit may spring from tyrant's hands?

MARIUS. In faith then, ladies, thus the matter stands: Since you mistake my love and courtesy, Prepare yourselves, for you shall surely die.

CORNELIA. Ay, Marius, now I know thou dost not lie; And that thou mayst, unto thy lasting blame, Extinguish in our deaths thy wished fame, Grant us this boon that, making choice of death, We may be freed from fury of thine ire.

MARIUS. An easy boon; ladies, I condescend.

CORNELIA. Then suffer us in private chamber close To meditate a day or two alone; And, tyrant, if thou find us living then, Commit us straight unto thy slaughtering-men.

MARIUS. Ladies, I grant; for Marius nill deny A suit so easy and of such import; For pity 'twere that dames of constancy Should not be agents of their misery.

[_Here he whispers_ LECTORIUS.

Lectorius, hark, despatch.

[_Exit_ LECTORIUS.

CORNELIA. So, Fulvia, now the latest doom is fix'd, And nought remains but constant Roman hearts To bear the brunt of irksome fury's spite.

Rouse thee, my dear, and daunt those faint conceits, That trembling stand aghast at bitter death.

Bethink thee now that Sylla was thy sire, Whose courage heaven nor fortune could abate: Then, like the offspring of fierce Sylla's house, Pa.s.s with the thrice-renowned Phrygian dame, As to thy marriage, so unto thy death: For nought to wretches is more sweet than death.

FULVIA. Madam, confirm'd as well to die as live, Fulvia awaiteth nothing but her death.

Yet had my father known the course of change, Or seen our loss by lucky augury, This tyrant nor his followers had liv'd To 'joy the ruin of fierce Sylla's house.

MARIUS. But, lady, they that dwell on fortune's call No sooner rise, but subject are to fall.

FULVIA. Marius, I doubt not but our constant ends Shall make thee wail thy tyrant's government.

MARIUS. When tyrant's rule doth breed my care and woe, Then will I say two ladies told me so.

But here comes Lectorius. Now, my lord.

Have you brought those things?

_Enter_ LECTORIUS.

LECTORIUS. I have, n.o.ble consul.

MARIUS. Now, ladies, you are resolute to die?

CORNELIA. Ay, Marius, for terror cannot daunt us.

Tortures were framed to dread the baser eye, And not t'appal a princely majesty.

MARIUS. And Marius lives to triumph o'er his foes, That train their warlike troops amidst the plains, And are enclos'd and hemm'd with s.h.i.+ning arms, Not to appal such princely majesty.