A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 14

SYLLA. And why not general 'gainst the King of Pontus?

GRANIUS. And general against the King of Pontus.

SYLLA. Sirrah, your words are good, your thoughts are ill.

Each milkwhite hair amid this mincing beard, Compar'd with millions of thy treacherous thoughts, Would change their hue through vigour of thy hate.

But, did not pity make my fury thrall, This sword should finish hate, thy life, and all.

I prythee, Granius, how doth Marius?

GRANIUS. As he that bides a thrall to thee and fate: Living in hope, as I and others do, To catch good fortune, and to cross thee too.

SYLLA. Both blunt and bold, but too much mother-wit.

To play with fire, where fury streams about: Curtail your tale, fond man, cut off the rest; But here I will dissemble for the best.

GRANIUS. Sylla, my years have taught me to discern Betwixt ambitious pride and princely zeal; And from thy youth these peers of Home have mark'd A rash revenging humour[113] in thy brain.

Thy tongue adorn'd with flowing eloquence, And yet I see imprinted in thy brows A fortunate but froward governance.

And though thy rival Marius, mated late By backward working of his wretched fate, Is fall'n; yet, Sylla, mark what I have seen Even here in Rome. The fencer Spectacus Hath been as fortunate as thou thyself; But when that Cra.s.sus' sword a.s.sayed his crest, The fear of death did make him droop for woe.

SYLLA. You saw in Rome this brawling fencer die, When Spectacus by Cra.s.sus was subdued.

Why so? but, sir, I hope you will apply, And say like Spectacus that I shall die.

Thus peevish eld, discoursing by a fire, Amidst their cups will prate how men aspire.

Is this the greeting, Romans, that you give Unto the patron of your monarchy?

Lucretius, shall I play a pretty jest?

LUCRETIUS. What Sylla will, what Roman dare withstand?

SYLLA. A brief and pleasing answer, by my head.

Why, tell me, Granius, dost thou talk in sport?

GRANIUS. No, Sylla, my discourse is resolute.

Not coin'd to please thy fond and cursed thoughts: For were my tongue betray'd with pleasing words To feed the humours of thy haughty mind, I rather wish the rot should root it out.

SYLLA. The bravest brawler that I ever heard.

But, soldiers, since I see he is oppress'd With crooked choler, and our artists teach That fretting blood will press through open'd veins, Let him that has the keenest sword arrest The greybeard, and cut off his head in jest.

Soldiers, lay hands on Granius.

GRANIUS. Is this the guerdon[114] then of good advice?

SYLLA. No, but the means to make fond men more wise.

Tut, I have wit, and carry warlike tools, To charm the scolding prate of wanton fools.

Tell me of fencers and a tale of fate!

No, Sylla thinks of nothing but a state.

GRANIUS. Why, Sylla, I am arm'd the worst to try.

SYLLA, I pray thee then, Lucretius, let him die.

[_Exeunt with_ GRANIUS.

Beshrew me, lords, but in this jolly vein 'Twere pity but the prating fool were slain.

I fear me Pluto will be wrath with me, For to detain so grave a man as he.

ANTHONY. But seek not, Sylla, in this quiet state To work revenge upon an aged man, A senator, a sovereign of this town.

SYLLA. The more the cedar climbs, the sooner down: And, did I think the proudest man in Rome Would wince at that which I have wrought or done, I would and can control his insolence.

Why, senators, is this the true reward, Wherewith you answer princes for their pain, As when this sword hath made our city free, A braving mate should thus distemper me?

But, Lepidus and fellow-senators, I am resolved, and will not brook your taunts: Who wrongeth Sylla, let him look for stripes.

ANTHONY. Ay, but the milder pa.s.sions show the man; For as the leaf doth beautify the tree, The pleasant flow'rs bedeck the painted spring, Even so in men of greatest reach and power A mild and piteous thought augments renown.

Old Anthony did never see, my lord, A swelling show'r, that did continue long: A climbing tower that did not taste the wind: A wrathful man not wasted with repent.

I speak of love, my Sylla, and of joy, To see how fortune lends a pleasant gale Unto the spreading sails of thy desires; And, loving thee, must counsel thee withal: For, as by cutting fruitful vines increase, So faithful counsels work a prince's peace.

SYLLA. Thou honey-talking father, speak thy mind.

ANTHONY. My Sylla, scarce those tears are dried up, That Roman matrons wept to see this war: Along the holy streets the hideous groans Of murdered men infect the weeping air: Thy foes are fled, not overtaken yet, And doubtful is the hazard of this war: Yea, doubtful is the hazard of this war, For now our legions draw their wasteful swords To murder whom? Even Roman citizens!

To conquer whom? Even Roman citizens!

Then, if that Sylla love these citizens, If care of Rome, if threat of foreign foes, If fruitful counsels of thy forward friends, May take effect, go fortunate, and drive The King of Pontus out of Asia; Lest, while we dream on civil mutinies, Our wary foes a.s.sail our city walls.

POMPEY. My long-concealed thoughts, Mark Anthony, Must seek discovery through thy pliant words.

Believe me, Sylla, civil mutinies Must not obscure thy glories and our names.

Then, sith that factious Marius is suppress'd, Go spread thy colours 'midst the Asian fields; Meanwhile myself will watch this city's weal.

SYLLA. Pompey, I know thy love, I mark thy words, And, Anthony, thou hast a pleasing vein; But, senators, I harbour[115] in my head With every thought of honour some revenge.

_Enter LUCRETIUS with the head_.

Speak, what, shall Sylla be your general?

LEPIDUS. We do decree that Sylla shall be general?

SYLLA. And wish you Sylla's weal and honour too?

ANTHONY. We wish both Sylla's weal and honour too.

SYLLA. Then take away the scandal of this state, Banish the name of tribune out of town; Proclaim false Marius and his other friends Foemen and traitors to the state of Rome, And I will wend and work so much by force, As I will master false Mithridates.

LEPIDUS. The name of tribune hath continued long.

SYLLA. So shall not Lepidus, if he withstand me.

Sirrah, you see the head of Granius: Watch you his hap, unless you change your words.

Pompey, now please me: Pompey, grant my suit.

POMPEY. Lictors, proclaim this our undaunted doom.

We will that Marius and his wretched sons: His friends Sulpitius, Claudius, and the rest Be held for traitors, and acquit the men, That shall endanger their unlucky lives; And henceforth tribune's name and state shall cease.

Grave senators, how like you this decree?

LEPIDUS. Even as our consuls wish, so let it be.

SYLLA. Then, Lepidus, all friends in faith for me, So leave I Rome to Pompey and my friends, Resolv'd to manage those our Asian wars.