Lel. Oh, Marius, I have wronged thy blessed
spirit

To mourn thy death by a contrary name,
But 'twas a sister's love; then pardon me.
If any life remain, fix but thine eye
Upon thy Lelia's sorrow, crying now

On Marius, Marius, breathing nothing else
Till my loathed breath expire. Oh, Marius!
Mar. What life-restoring balm those true love's

tears

Pour in my bleeding wounds, able to free
A dying soul from death's strongest charnel-house!
But I am well, far distant from that place :
This shirt of mail worn near my skin

Rebated their sharp steel and killing points
Were darted at my breast. My greatest hurt
Is but a scratch compared to mortal wounds.
Yet I have changed my life, my life of woe,
And am transported into paradise,

Rapt above apprehension to behold

My dearest Lelia's sight: Hast thou been dead To all men's knowledge since I first left Rome, And dost survive to be my life's preserver?

Lel. I lived not else at all: But dangers now Surround us every where; some sudden means Must further our swift flight, or we are lost again Past remedy.

Enter BELLARIO.

Here comes a trusty friend, Bellario.Oh, good Bellario, help me to convey This habit where it may be hid for ever, And lend us any garments; Marius lives; Throw it in any pool. Thy coat and hat! Nay quickly, dear Bellario. [She disguises MARIUS.

Mar. Thy reward for this,

Whene'er we see thee next, wants precedent Of what thy trust hath gained thee. Fare thee well!

Commend me to Marcellus: thoú and he

Appease the mutinous soldiers, and make head. You shall with speed hear from us.-Come, my

bliss,

Never had man a happiness like this.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Forest.

Enter ARMANUS.

Arm. Thrice has my horse o'erthrown me; the last time

Fell stark dead under me: ominous signs!

8-Thy reward for this,

Whene'er we see thee next, wants precedent

Of what thy trust hath gained thee.] The construction is involved; the sense intended seems to be: "Thy reward for this which thy trust hath gained thee, and which thou shalt receive when we next meet, will want a precedent, or will exceed any milar reward yet given."

si

The scorching beams too weaken and make faint
My bruised limbs, that I of force must rest,
If rest dares steal into the dwelling place
Of grief and care.

If Tullius fell by damned practices,
And not by honourable dint of sword,
I take a solemn vow ne'er to return,
Or live 'mongst other creatures willingly
Than wolves and tigers, studying how to learn
Their savage fierceness, and to practise it
Upon their hearts were causers of his death.
My weariness' o'ermasters me, and fills

My head with strange distemp'rature; sleep weighs down

My eyelids.

Enter MARCUS TULLIUS.

[Sleeps.

M. Tull. I would have no one marry, for it is A foolish, vain, and idle ceremony;

Let every woman choose the man she likes
To pleasure her, and after him another,
Changing as often as the subtle wind,

The pale-faced moon, or their own wandering thoughts:

'Twere better far than thus with breach of faith
To fill the world with sin and bastard births.
Oh, Philadelpha, if thou dost prove false,
Betwixt the parched Indians, short-breathed men,
And longest-lived, cold Hyperboreans,

Lives not a constant woman. But, Armanus !

9 Weariness.] There is a lacuna left here in the original handwriting, and the word is supplied in another apparently modern hand.

To see the antipathy 'twixt love and friendship!
As if it were ingrafted in the soul,

In which there is more pleasure than desire,
In will and in affection; like two hearts
Closed up both in a mold, that if one die
The poisonous infection kills the other.'
I would I could forget thee, for methinks
I am ne'er alone when I remember thee:
Such sympathy, conditions, manners, speech,
[In] studies, pleasures, inclinations

Bearing continual one thought and motion,
For such are perfect friends-I am o'erheard ;
And yet I am not. There's a happy man ;
No politic devices keep him waking

For mines of gold: my mad and mutinous thoughts
Will not afford me such a minute's rest.

These three days have these eyelids kept asunder,
And still unfriendly they deny to meet.

Yet I will lay me down by this blest creature;
It may be his example may teach me
How to beguile fond passions.

Arm. Forgive me,

[Lays down. [In his sleep.

I will revenge thy death, by Heaven I will.

To see the antipathy 'twixt love and friendship,

As if it were ingrafted in the soul

In which there is more pleasure than desire,
In will and in affection, like two hearts

Close up both in one mold, that if one die

The poisonous infection kills the other.] The general meaning of these lines is sufficiently plain. Tullius is contemplating on the impossibility of love and friendship agreeing together in one person without the distraction of the one inducing the death of the other; but the meaning of the first part of the fifth line is so obscure, that some material corruption, such as the loss of one verse, or of two hemistichs, after the fourth line, is to be apprehended. One slight alteration (reading closed for close) is obviously necessary.

M. Tull. Alas, poor soul, he is afflicted too. Methinks that face should be no stranger to me: Armanus !

Oh, see the spring from whence comes all my woe,
Whose flattering bubbles show like crystal streams,
But I have found 'em full of Lernean poison.
How sound he sleeps! He is so used to sin,
Not the black furies that still hover about him,
Nor his own guilt that's ever calling him,
Can waken him; but here is that can do't.

[Draws. Just Nemesis, that sit'st on sharpest thorns, Twisting thy iron whips for perjured man, Behold thy priest offer a sacrifice

That will be pleasing to thee!-My hand shakes. Revenge and fury guard me round about,

And force calm pity and compassion back!Once more have at thee. Still my arm wants strength,

And cannot hold my weapon.
Arm. Sacred spirit,

[Awakes.

That from the ever-springing fields art come

To this unhallowed ground, why dost thou shake
Thy threatening sword, and so austerely bend
Thy incorporeal brow against the man

That ever loved and honoured Tullius' name
So dear, the natural antipathy

Betwixt my frail and thy immortal substance,
Which guilty creatures tremble to behold,
And drives their cold blood through their shaking
joints,

Nothing dismays me; but with open arms
Run to embrace thy shadow. Shun me not!
By all my hopes of future happiness

Tell me but who they were contrived thy death,
And though the Cyclops guard them, or the race
That from his kingdom durst attempt to drive