My sweet companion, pupil, tutor, child!—
Thou would'st not wonder, that my drowning eye,
And choking utterance, upbraid my tongue

That tells thee, she is thine! [Joins their hands.] Icilius,
I do betroth her to thee; let but the war

Be done-you shall espouse her. Friends, a word!

[Virginius and the rest exeunt M. D. Icil. (c.) [Holding her hand. Virginia! my Virginia I am all

Dissolv'd-o'erpower'd with the munificence

Of this auspicious hour-And thou, not mov'st-
Nor look'st-nor speak'st-to bless me with a sigh
Of sweet according joy!-I love thee, but

To make thee happy! If to make thee so
Be bliss denied to me-lo, I release

The gifted hand-that I would faster hold,

Than wretches, bound for death, would cling to life-
If thou would'st take it back-then take it back.
Virginia. I take it back-to give it thee again! X
Icil. O help me to a word will speak my bliss,
Or I am beggar'd-No! there is not one!
There cannot be; for never man had bliss
Like mine to name.

Virginia. "Thou dost but beggar me,
Icilius, when thou mak'st thyself a bankrupt;
Placing a value on me far above

My real little worth."-I'd help thee to

A hundred words; each one of which would far
O'er-rate thy gain, and yet no single one

Rate over high !

Icil. Thou could'st not do it!

No;

Thou could'st not do it! Every term of worth

Writ down and doubl'd, then the whole summ'd up,
Would leave with thee a rich remainder still!-

Pick from each rarer pattern of thy sex

Her rarest charm, till thou hast every charm
Of soul and body, that can blend in woman,
I would out-paragon the paragon

With thee!

Virginia. "And if thou would'st, I'd find thee, for
Thy paragon, a mate-if that can be

A mate which doth transcend the thing, 'tis ta'en
To match-would make thy paragon look poor,
And I would call that so o'ermatching mate
Icilius."

Icil. No! I will not let thee win On such a theme as this!

Virginia. Nor will I drop

The controversy, that the richer makes me
The more I lose.

Icil. My sweet Virginia,

We do but lose and lose, and win and win;
"Playing for nothing but to lose and win;"
Then let us stop the game-and thus I stop it.

[Kisses her.

Re-enter VIRGINIUS, and the others, M. D.

Vir. Witness, my friends, that seal! Observe, it is
A living one! It is Icilius' seal;

And stamp'd upon as true and fair a bond—
Tho' it receive the impress blushingly-
As ever signet kiss'd! Are all content?
Speak else! She is thy free affianc'd wife;
Thou art her free affianc'd husband! Come,
We have o'erdrawn our time-Farewell, Virginia;
Thy future husband for a time must be
Bellona's. To thy tasks again, my child
Be thou the bride of study for a time.
Farewell!

Virginia. (R.) My father!

Vir. (R.) May the gods protect thee.
Virginia. My father!

;

Vir. Does the blood forsake thy cheek?

Come to my arms once more! Remember, girl,
The first and foremost debt a Roman owes,

Is to his country; and it must be paid,

If need be, with his life. Why, how you hold me! Icilius, take her from me! [Icilius goes to her.] Hon Within!

Icil. (R.) Farewell, Virginia.

Vir. Take her in!

Virginia. The gods be with thee, my Icilius-Father,

The gods be with thee-and Icilius.

Vir. I swear, a battle might be fought and wor.

In half the time! Now, once for all, farewell;

Come on!

Your sword and buckler, boy! The foe! the foe!
Does he not tread on Roman ground?
Come on! charge on him! drive him back! or die!
[Exeunt Virginia and Servia, R.—the rest L.

SCENE III-Appius's House.

Enter APPIUS, L.

4pp. It was a triumph, the achieving which
O'erpaid the risk was run-and that was great.
They have made trial of their strength, and learn'd
Its value from defeat. (c.) The Senate knows
Its masters now: and the Decemvirate,
To make it reign eternal, only wants
Its own decree, which little pains will win.
Ere this, the foe has, for his mad invasion,
Been paid with chastisement. "Retir'd within
His proper limits, leisure waits upon us
To help us to the recompense, decreed
To our noble daring, who have set ourselves
In such high seats, as at our feet array

The wealth, and power, and dignity of Rome
In absolute subjection! Tyranny!

How godlike is thy port! Thou giv'st, and tak'st,
And ask'st no other leave, than what thy own
Imperial will accords. Jove does no more!"

Now, Claudius

Enter CLAUDIus, r.

Claud. We have suffer'd a defeat!

App. What! The Decemvirs fly!

Claud. The soldiers fight

With only half a heart.

"The other half

Looks on, and cares not which side proves the winner." App. (c.) Then decimate them. Traitors! Recreants!

Why, we shall have them at our doors!

Have we lost ground, my Claudius ?

Claud. (R. c.) None, except

What we've retrac'd in fame. We strove to teach

The enemy their road lay backwards, but

They would not turn their faces for us.

Retains his former line.

Each

Enter MARCUS, R.

App. What news?

Marc. (R.) The Equi

Still press upon us. Rumours are afloat
Of new disasters, which the common cry,
Be sure, still multiplies and swells. Dentatus,
That over-busy, crabbed veteran,

Walks up and down among the people, making

Your plans his theme of laughter. Nought he stints
That may reflect you in an odious light,

And lower the decemvirate.

App. A dungeon

Would do good service to him! Once within,
Strangling were easy! We must stop his mouth-
"Unwholesome food or liquor"-Where was he
When last you heard him?

Marc. In the Forum.

App. So!

He is past service, is he not?

Some way

To clear the city of him. Come, we'll hear him,
And answer him, and silence him! "Tis well
The dog barks forth his spleen; it puts us on
Our guard against his bite. Come, to the Forum
[Exeunt, R.

SCENE IV.-The Forum.

Enter DENTATUS, TITUS, SERVIUS, and Citizens, R.
Tit. (c.) What's to be done?

Den. (c.) We'll be undone-that's to be done.
Ser. We'll do away with the Decemvirate.

Den. You'll do away with the Decemvirate ?-The Decemvirate will do away with you! You'll do away with yourselves! Do nothing-The enemy will do away with both of you. In another month, a Roman will be a stranger in Rome. A fine pass we are come to, Masters! Tit. (R.) But something must be done. Den. Why, what would you have? clap your hands, as if it were a victory you heard of; and yet you cry-Something must be done! Truly I know not what that something is, unless it be to make you General. How say you, Masters ?

You shout and

Ser. We'd follow any man that knew how to lead us, and would rid us of our foes, and the Decemvirate together.

Den. You made these Decemvirs! You are strangely discontented with your own work! And you are over

cunning workmen too. You put your materials so firmly together, there's no such thing as taking them asunder! What you build, you build-except it be for your own good. There you are bunglers at your craft. Ha! ha! ha! I cannot but laugh to think how you toiled, and strained, and sweated, to rear the stones of the building one above another, when I see the sorry faces you make at it.

Tit. But tell us the news again.

Den. Is it so good? Does it so please you? Then prick your ears again, and listen. We have been beaten again-beaten back on our own soil. Rome has seen its haughty masters fly before chastisement, like slavesreturning cries for blows—and all this of your Decemvirs, gentlemen.

[The people shout.

1st Cit. (R.) Huzza for it again! 2nd Cit. (R.) Hush! Appius comes. Den. (R.) And do you care for that? You that were, just now, within a stride of taking him and his colleagues by the throat? You'll do away with the Decemvirs, will you! And let but one of them appear, you dare not, for your life, but keep your spleen within your teeth! Listen to me, now! I'll speak the more for Appius

Enter APPIUS, CLAUDIUS, and MARCUS, preceded by Lictors, R. U. E.

I say, to the eternal infamy of Rome, the foe has chased her sons, like hares, on their own soil, where they should prey like lions-and so they would, had they not keepers to tame them.

App. (c.) What's that you are saying to the people, Siccius Dentatus?

Den. I am regaling them with the news.

App. The news?

Den. (R. C.) Ay, the news-the newest that can be had; and the more novel, because unlooked for. Who ever thought to see the eagle in the talons of the kite?

App. It is not well done in you, Dentatus, to chafe a sore. It makes it rankle. If your surgery has learned no better, it should keep its hands to itself! You have very little to do, to busy yourself after this fashion.

Den. I busy myself as I like, Appius Claudius.

App. I know you do, when you labour to spread disaffection among the people, and bring the Decemvirs into contempt.

Den. The Decemvirs bring themselves into contempt