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Shall be obey'd ; and I will meet the conqueror,
Valerius. Oh, go not, gentle lady!
Valeria. Your griefs are yet too fresh, And may offend him. Do not, my Horaria. Valerius. Indeed 'twere better to avoid his
presence; It will revive your sorrows, and recall
Horatia. Sir, when I saw you last I was a woman, The fool of nature, a fond prey to grief, Made
up of sighs and tears. But now my soul Disdains the very thought of what I was; 'Tis grown too callous to be mov'd with toys. Observe me well; am I not nobly chang’d? From
my sad eyes, or heaves my breast one groan ? No: før I doubt no longer. 'Tis not grief, 'Tis resolution now, and fix'd despair. Valeria. My dear Horatia, you strike terrors thro'
me; What dreadful purpose hast thou form’d? Oh, speak! Valerius.“ Talk gently to her.”—Hear me yet,
sweet lady. You must not go; whatever you resolve, There is a sight will pierce you to the soul.
Horatia. What sight?
Valerius. Alas, I should be glad to hide it; But it is
Horatia. What ?
Valerius. Your brother wears in triumph The very scarf I bore to Curiatius.
Horatia. [Wildly.] Ye gods, I thank ye ! 'tis with
joy I hear it. If I should falter now, that sight would rouse My drooping rage, and swell the tempest louder.
-But soft; they may prevent me; my wild passion Betrays my purpose. I'll disse mble with them.
[She siis down. Valerius. She softens now. Valeria. 'How do you, my Horatia ? Horatia. Alas, my friend, ’ris madness which I
utterSince you persuade me then, I will not go. But leave me to myself; I would sit here ; Alone in silent sadness pour my tears, And meditate on my unheard-of Valerius. [To Valeria.] "Twere well to humour
this. But may she not, If left alone, do outrage on herself.
Valeria. I have prevented that; she has not near her One instrument of death.
Valerius. Retire we then. “ But, Oh, not far, for now I feel my soul “ Still more perplex'd with love. Who knows, Va.
leria, " But when this storm of grief has blown its fill, “ She may glow calm, and listen to my vows."
[Exeunt Valerius and Valeria. After a short Silence, HORATIA rises, and comes forward. Horatia. Yes, they are gone; and now be firm, my
I can elude their search. The heart,
They were not wrongs; 'twas virtue which una
And virtue shall unite us in the grave.
ACT V. SCENE I.
A Street of Rome. Chorus of Youths and Virgins singing
and scattering Branches of Oak, Flowers, 8c. Then enters HORATIUS, leaning on the Arm of PUBLIUS HORATIUS.
Rome her hasty tribute pours;
Half exhausts her blooming stores.
Emblem of immortal praise !
Future times shall altars raise,
Though the bloodless victor's due ;
Shall devote that wreath to you.
Ev'n for one averted fate,
He sav'd all who sav'd the state.
Horatius. Thou dost forgive me ther, my dearest
Pub. No more, my friends.
-You must permit me, sir, To contradict you here. Not but
my soul, Like yours,
is open to the charms of praise ; There is no joy beyond it, when the mind Of him who hears it can with honest pride Confess it just, and listen to its music. But now the toils I have sustain’d require Their interval of rest, and every sense Is deaf to pleasure--Let me leave you, friends; We're near our home, and would be private now : To.morrow we'll expect your kind attendance To share our joys, and waft our thanks to Heaven,
As they are going off, HORATIA rushes in.
Horatius. My daughter's voice!
Horatia. Is this the hero
Pub. What nieans my sister?
Horatia. Thy sister! I disclaim the impious title; Base and inhuman! Give me back my husband, My life, my soul, my murder'd Curiatius!
Pub. He perish'd for his country.
Horatia. Gracious gods!