Hath never felt the piercing ray of virtue.
Know, African! the scheme thou dost propose
Would injure me, thy country, and thyself.
Ham. Thou dost mistake.
Who was it gave thee power
To rule the destiny of Regulus?
Am I a slave to Carthage, or to thee?
Ham. What does it signify from whom, proud
Thou dost receive this benefit?
O savage ignorance! is it a benefit
To lie, elope, deceive, and be a villain?
Ham. What! not when life itself, when all's at stake?
Know'st thou my countrymen prepare thee tortures That shock imagination but to think of?
Thou wilt be mangled, butcher'd, rack'd, impaled.
Does not thy nature shrink?
Reg. (smiling at his threats.) Hamilcar! no.
Dost thou not know the Roman genius better?
We live on honour-'tis our food, our life,
The motive and the measure of our deeds!
We look on death as on a common object;
The tongue nor faulters, nor the cheek turns pale,
Nor the calm eye is mov'd at sight of him:
We court, and we embrace him undismay'd;
We smile at tortures if they lead to glory,
And only cowardice and guilt appal us.
Ham. Fine sophistry! the valour of the tongue,
The heart disclaims it; leave this pomp of words,
And cease dissembling with a friend like me.
I know that life is dear to all who live,
That death is dreadful,-yes, and must be fear'd,
E'en by the frozen apathists of Rome.
Reg. Did I fear death when on Bagrada's banks
I faced and slew the formidable serpent
That made your boldest Africans recoil,
And shrink with horror, though the monster liv'd
A native inmate of their own parch'd deserts ?
Did I fear death before the gates of Adis ?—
Ask Bostar, or let Asdrubal confess.
Ham. Or shall I rather of Xantippus ask,
Who dar'd to undeceive deluded Rome,
And prove this vaunter not invincible?
"Tis even said, in Africa I mean,
He made a prisoner of this demi-god.-
Did we not triumph then?
Vain boaster! no.
No Carthaginian conquer'd Regulus;
Xantippus was a Greek-a brave one too :
Yet what distinction did your Afric make
Between the man who serv'd her, and her foe?
I was the object of her open hate:
He, of her secret, dark malignity.
He durst not trust the nation he had sav'd;
He knew, and therefore fear'd you.—Yes, he knew
Where once you were obliged, you ne'er forgave.
Could you forgive at all, you'd rather pardon
The man who hated, than the man who serv'd you.
Xantippus found his ruin ere it reach'd him,
Lurking behind your honours and rewards,
Found it in your feign'd courtesies and fawnings.
When vice intends to strike a master stroke,
It's veil is smiles, its language protestations.
The Spartan's merit threaten'd, but his service
Compell'd his ruin.-Both you could not pardon.
Ham. Come, come, I know full well—
Reg.
Barbarian! peace.
I've heard too much-Go, call thy followers;
Prepare thy ships, and learn to do thy duty.
Ham. Yes!-shew thyself intrepid, and insult
Call mine the blindness of barbarian friendship.
On Tiber's banks I hear thee, and am calm:
But know, thou scornful Roman! that too soon
In Carthage thou may'st fear and feel my vengeance:
Thy cold, obdurate pride shall there confess,
Though Rome may talk-'tis Africa can punish.
Reg. Farewell! I've not a thought to waste on thee.
Where is the Consul? why does Publius stay?
Alas! I fear but see Attilia comes !-
Reg. What brings thee here, my child? what eager joy
I cannot speak-my father! Joy choaks my utterance-Rome, dear gratefu
(Oh! may her cup with blessings overflow,)
Gives up our common destiny to thee;
Faithful and constant to th' advice thou gav'st her,
She will not hear of peace, or change of slaves,
But she insists-reward and bless her, gods!-
That thou shalt here remain.
Att. Oh! no-the sacred senate hath consider'd That, when to Carthage thou didst pledge thy faith, Thou wast a captive, and that, being such, Thou couldst not bind thyself in covenant.
Reg. He who can die is always free, my child! Learn farther, he who owns another's strength Confesses his own weakness. Let them know, I swore I would return because I chose it, And will return, because I swore to do it.
Pub. Vain is that hope, my father.
Pub. All Rome.-The citizens are up in arms:
In vain would reason stop the growing torrent;
In vain would'st thou attempt to reach the port,
The
way is barr'd by thronging multitudes
The other streets of Rome are all deserted.
Reg. Where, where is Manlius?
He is still thy friend; His single voice opposes a whole people;
He threats this moment, and the next entreats,
But all in vain; none hear him, none obey.
The general fury rises e'en to madness.
The axes tremble in the lictors' hands,
Who pale and spiritless want power to use them—
And one wild scene of anarchy prevails.
Reg. Farewell! my daughter. Publius, follow me.
Att. Ah! where? I tremble
To assist my friend-
T' upbraid my hapless country with her crime-
To keep unstain'd the glory of these chains-
To go, or perish.
I have been patient with thee; have indulg'd
Too much the fond affections of thy soul;
It is enough; thy grief would now offend
Thy father's honour; do not let thy tears
Conspire with Rome to rob me of my triumph.
Att. Alas! it wounds my soul.
Reg.
I know 'twill grieve thy gentle heart to lose me ;
But think, thou mak'st the sacrifice to Rome,
And all is well again.
What wouldst thou do, my child?
Canst thou direct the destiny of Rome,
And boldly plead amid th' assembled senate?
Canst thou, forgetting all thy sex's softness,
Fiercely engage in hardy deeds of arms?
Canst thou encounter labour, toil, and famine,
Fatigue and hardships, watchings, cold and heat?
Canst thou attempt to serve thy country thus ?
Thou canst not:-but thou mayst sustain my loss
Without these agonizing pangs of grief,
And set a bright example of submission,
Worthy a Roman's daughter.
Reg. Is a most painful virtue ;—but Attilia Is Regulus's daughter, and must have it.
Att. I will entreat the gods to give it me.
Ah! thou art offended! I have lost thy love.
Reg. Is this concern a mark that thou hast
lost it?
I cannot, cannot spurn my weeping child.
Receive this proof of my paternal fondness;
Thou lov'st Licinius--He too loves my daughter.
I give thee to his wishes; I do more-
I give thee to his virtues.-Yes, Attilia,
The noble youth deserves this dearest pledge
Thy father's friendship ever can bestow.
Att. My lord! my father! wilt thou, canst thou leave me ?
The tender father will not quit his child!
Reg. I am, I am thy father! as a proof,
I leave thee my example how to suffer.
My child! I have a heart within this bosom ;
That heart has passions-see in what we differ;
Passion-which is thy tyrant-is my slave.
Att. Ah! stay my father. Ah
Att. Yes, Regulus! I feel thy spirit here,
Thy mighty spirit struggling in this breast,
And it shall conquer all these coward feelings,
It shall subdue the woman in my soul;
A Roman virgin should be something more—
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