Imagens das páginas

[A cry is heard without" More prisoners !" An nt.

ficer enters with letters for Cicero; uho, after glancing at them, sends them round the Senate.

CATILINE is strongly perturbed. Cic. Fathers of Rome! If man can be convinced By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is! Look on these letters! Here's a deep-laid plot To wreck the provinces : a solemn league, Made with all form and circumstance. The time Is desperate,-all the slaves are up ;-Rome shakes! The heavens alone can tell how near our graves We stand even here - The name of Catiline Is foremost in the league. He was their king. Tried and convicted traitor! go from Rome! Cat. [haughtily rising.] Come, consecrated lictors, from your thrones :

[ To the Senate. Fling down your sceptres :—take the rod and axe, And make the murder as you make the law. Cic. [interrupting him.] Give up the record of his banishment.

[To an officer. [The officer gives it to the CONSUL] Cat. Banished from Rome! What's banished, but

From daily contact of the things I loathe?
“ Tried and convicted traitor!" Who says this?
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ?
Banished-1 thank you for 't. It breaks my chain!
I held some slack allegiance till this hour-
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords!
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities.
But here I stand and scoff you: here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face.
Your Consul's merciful. For this, all thanks.
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.
[The Consul reads]:-"Lucius Sergius Catiline: by

the decree of the Senate, you are declared an en-
emy and alien to the State, and banished from the
territory of the Commonwealth."

The Consul. Lictors, drive the traitor from the

temple! Cat. [furious.] “ Traitor !” I go—but I return.

This-trial] Here I devote your Senate! I've had wrongs To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel, This day's the birth of sorrows !--this hour's work Will breed proscriptions :- look to your hearths, my

lords ! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus !-all shames and crimes ! Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones; Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night, And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!

[ The Senators rise in tumult and cry out, Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome! Cic. Expel him, lictors! Clear the Senate-house !

[ They surround him. Cat. [struggling through them). I go, but not to

leap the gulf alone. I go-but when I come, 'Twill be the burst of ocean in the earthquake-rolling back In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well! You build my funeral-pile, but your best blood Shall quench its flame. Back, slaves ! [To the lictors.] -I will return!

[He rushes out.]



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