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Show (§4) Though no weak terror can m y heart diffuade, Yet difmal horror does it n o w invade ; I mourn m y fate, and envy theirs that are Already fwallow'd by this greedy War. I would not call this fad fierce honor back, Which can't o'erthrow the heart it does attaque ', What I gain thence I like, mourn what I mifs, And if Rome calls for firmer thoughts than this, I thank the gods that I no Roman am, Left all things humane11 fhould then difclaim. HORACE. Though you're no Roman, yet deferve to be, And better -mew how much you equal m e ; That folid Virtue which I make m y boaft, By any weaker tinfture would be loft : His race of Honor is but ill defign'd, W h o at firft ftart begins to look behind ', Our fuffering to the higheft pitch is brought, I can fee through it, but I tremble not. Where e'er m y Country will m y arm employ, I muft accept it with implicite joy ; The glory of receiving fuch Commands, Every refleftion but it felf withftands', H e who room then for other thoughts can find, Does what he ought with too remifs a mind: That facred tie, muft others uncreate, Rome arming me, I nothing muft debate; Nor did I wed thy Sifter with more joy, Than now I'll feek her Brother to deftroy: And this fuperfluous language to give o'er, Y'are Albas choice, nor muft I know you more. CURTIUS. • Yet to m y torment, I muft ftill k n ow you, But this rough Virtue yet I never knew ; And in this fad extremity of Fate Let m e admire it, but not imitate. HORACE. No, no, embrace not Virtue by conftraint, And (§5) And fince yoi find fuch pleafure in complaint, Freely enjoy it, and for your content, M y Sifter comes to help you to lament : rilvifit youQj, and hope t© make her know What generous things becomes m y Wife to do; That if I fall, fhe may to you be kind, And bear her forrows with a Roman mind. SCEN. IV. Horace, Curtius, Camilla. Horace to Camilla. Know you how glorious Curtius is to be > CAMILLA. Alas! how treacherous is m y Deftiny ! HORACE. N o w by your conftancy your birth confefs, J And if m y death allows him the fuccefs, Let him not be your Brother's Murtherer thought, But a brave man that does but what he ought; W h o ferves his Country nobly, and does fhew By that great way how much he merits you 5 Conclude your match as if I were alive : But if this Sword fliall him of life deprive, M y Conqueft then with equal candor ufe, Nor of your Lover's death m y hand accufe. I fee your grief by your approching tears, Exhale with him your forrows and your fears; Quarrel with Heaven and Earth, of Fate complain, But the fight done, no more regret the flain. You but a minute muft with her beftow, (To Curitus. And then where Honor calls us let ua go. Ppa SCEN, |