Is fix'd for death or conquest? [He bows. ] To me death, But wherefore should I wish? The gods will crown Sold. My duty, lady, Commands me hence. Ere this they have engag'd; And conquest's self would lose its charms to me, Should I not share the danger. As the Soldier goes out, VALERIA enters, who looks first on him, and then on HORATIA. Valeria. My dear Horatia, wherefore wilt thou court The means to be unhappy? Still enquiring, Had hurt thy quiet, that thou might'st have learnt it Alba to me is Rome. Wouldst thou believe it? Ev'n dreaded their success. Oh, Curiatius! Valeria. Forbear this self-reproach; he is thy husband, And who can blame thy fears? If fortune make him That we are miserable: nature there Horatia. True; yet sure A Roman virgin should be more than woman. To rush into the Tiber's foaming wave, The noblest lessons of our infant days, Our trust above? Does there not still remain Say, shall we thither -Look not thus dejected, Ev'n in this crisis of our fate, will calm Thy troubled soul, and fill thy breast with hope. Horatia. Talk not of hope; "the wretch on yonder plain, "Who hears the victor's threats, and sees his sword "Impending o'er him, feels no surer fate, "Tho' less delay'd than mine." What should I hope? That Alba conquer?-Curs'd be every thought Which looks that way! "The shrieks of captive "matrons Sound in my ears!" Valeria. Forbear, forbear, Horatia; Nor fright me with the thought. Rome cannot fall. Horatia. And if Rome conquers, then Horatia dies. Protecting gods shall spread their shields around him, And love shall combat in Horatia's cause. Horatia. Think'st thou so meanly of him?-No, His soul's too great to give me such a trial ; Didst thou not wish me to the temple ?—Come, Valeria. Alas, Horatia, 'tis not to the temple Why shouldst thou learn each chance of varying war, "Which takes a thousand turns, and shifts the scene "From bad to good, as fortune smiles or frowns?" Stay but an hour perhaps, and thou shalt know The whole at once.-I'll send-I'll fly myself To case thy doubts, and bring thee news of joy. Horatia. Again, and nearer too-I must attend thee. Valeria. Hark! 'tis thy father's voice, he comes to cheer thee. Enter Horatius, and Valerius. Horatius. [Entering.] News from the camp, my child! Save you, sweet maid I [Seeing Valeria. Your brother brings the tidings, for, alas I am no warrior now; my useless age, Yet I remember Horatia. You'll forgive us, sir, If with impatience we expect the tidings. Horatius. I had forgot; the thoughts of what I was Engross'd my whole attention.-Pray, young soldier, Relate it for me; you beheld the scene, And can report it justly. Valerius. Gentle lady, The scene was piteous, though its end be peace. Horatia. Peace? O, my fluttering heart! by what kind means? Valerius. 'Twere tedious, lady, and unnecessary To paint the disposition of the field; Suffice it, we were arm'd, and front to front The adverse legions heard the trumpet's sound: But vain was the alarm, for motionless, And wrapt in thought they stood; the kindred ranks Had caught each other's eyes, nor dar'd to lift The fault'ring spear against the breast they lov'd. |