Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman. What is a Roman, that is Cæsar's foe? Cato. Greater than Cæsar: he's a friend to virtue. Decius. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, And at the head of your own little senate; Yon don't now thunder in the capitol,
With all the mouths of Rome to second you.
Let him consider that who drives us hither. 'Tis Cæsar's sword has made Rome's senate little,. And thinn'd its ranks.
Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false glaring light,
Which conquest and success have thrown upon him;: Didst thou but view him right, thou 'dst see him black With murder, treasou, sacrilege, and crimes, That strike my soul with horror but to name 'em. I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch Beset with ills, and covered with misfortunes But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds. Should never buy me to be like that Cæsar!
Decius. Does Cato send this answer back to Cæsar, For all his gen'rous cares and profferr'd friendship? Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain: Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato. Would Cæsar shew the greatness of his soul? Bid him employ his care for these my friends, And make good use of his ill-gotten power, By sheft' ring men much better than himself.
Decius. Your high unconquer'd heart makes you forget You are a man. You rush on your destruction: But I have done. When I relate hereafter
The tale of this unhappy embassy,
All Rome will be in tears.
XVIII. Orestes" embassy to Pyrrhus,
BEFORE I speak the message of the Greeks, Permit me, sir, to glory in the title Of their embassador; since I behold Troy's vanquisher, and great Achilles' son. Nor does the son rise short of such a father If Hector fell by him, Troy fell by you.
But what your father never would have done, You do. You cherish the remains of Troy; And, by an ill-timed pity, keep alive The dying embers of a ten-years' war. Have you so soon forgot the mighty Hector? The Greeks remember his high brandish'd sword, That fill'd their states with widows and with orphans For which they call for vengeance on his son.
Who knows what he may one day prove? Who knows But he may brave us in our ports; and, fill'd With Hector's fury, set our fleets on blaze? You may yourself live to repent your mercy. Comply, then, with the Grecians' just demands: Satiate their vengeance, and preserve yourself.
Pyrr. The Godeks are for my safety more concern'd Than I desire. I thought your kings were met On more important counsel. When I heard The name of their embassador, I hop'd Some glorious enterprise was taking birth. Is Agamemnon's son dispatch'd for this? And do the Grecian chiefs, renown'd in war, A race of heroes, join in close debate
To plot an infant's death ?—What right has Greece To ask his life! must I, must I alone,
Of all her scepter'd warriors, be deny'd
To treat my captive as I please! Know, prince, When Troy lay smoking on the ground, and each Proud victor shar'd the harvest of the war,
Andromache, and this her son, were mine;
Were mine by lot! and who shall wrest them from me? Ulysses bore away old Priam's queen;
Cassandra was your own great father's prize:
Did I concern myself in what they won?
Did I send embassies to claim their captives?
Orestes. But, sir, we fear for you and for ourselves. Troy may again revive, and a new Hector
Rise in Astyanax. Then think betimes
Pyrrhus. Let dastard souls be timorously wise: But tell them, Pyrrhus knows not how to form
Far-fancy'd ills, and dangers out of sight.
Ores. Šir, call to mind the unrivall'd strength of Troy; Her walls, her bulwarks, and her gates of brass; Her kings, her heroes, and embattled armies!'
Pyrrhus. I call them all to mind; and see them all Confus'd in dust; all mix'd in one wide ruin; All but a child, and he in bondage held. What vengeance can we fear from such a Troy? If they have sworn to extinguish Hector's race, Why was their vow for twelve long months deferr'd? Why was he not in Priam's bosom slain?
He should have fall'n among the slaughter'd heaps Whelm'd under Troy. His death had then been just, When age with infancy, alike in vain
Pleaded their weakness; when the heat of conquest, And horrors of the fight, rous'd all our rage, And blindly hurry'd us through scenes of death. My fury then was without bounds: but now, My wrath appeas'd, must I be cruel still, And, deaf to all the tender calls of pity, Like a cool murderer, bathe my hands in blood- An infant's blood?—No, prince-Go, bid the Greeks Mark out some other victim; my revenge Has had its fill. What has escap'd from Troy' Shall not be sav'd to perish in Epirus.
Orestes. I need not tell you, sir, Astyanax Was doom'd to death in Troy; nor mention how The crafty mother sav'd her darling son:
The Greeks do now but urge their former sentence: Nor is 't the boy, but Hector they pursue; The father draws the vengeance on the son: The father, who so oft in Grecian blood
Has drench'd his sword: the father, whom the Greeks May seek even here.- -Prevent them, sir, in time. Pyrrhus. No! let them come; since I was born to
Let them now turn their arms On him, who conquer'd for them; let them come, And in Epirus seek another Troy.
'Twas thus they recompens'd my godlike sire; Thus was Achilles thank'd. But, prince, remember, Their black ingratitude then cost them dear.
Orestes. Shall Greece then find a rebel son in Pyrrhus ? Pyrrhus. Have I then conquer'd to depend on Greece ? Orestes. Hermione will sway your soul to peace, And mediate 'twixt your father and yourself:
Her beauty will enforce my embassy.
Pyrrhus. Hermione may have her charms, and I May love her still, tho' not her father's slave.
may in time give proofs that I am a lover;
But never must forget that I am a king.
Meanwhile, sir, you may see fair Helen's daughter: I know how near in blood you stand ally'd.
That done, you have my answer, prince. The Greeks, No doubt, expect your quick return.
XIX. Satan's speech to his Angels at the opening the debate in Pandemonium.
Pow'Rs and dominions! deities of heaven! For (since no deep within her gulph can hold Celestial vigour, though opprest and fallen) I give not heav'n for lost. From this descent Celestial virtues rising will appear
More glorious, and more dread, than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me though just right, and the fix'd laws of heav'n, Did first create your leader, next free choice, With what beside, in council, or iu fight, Hath been achiev'd of merit; yet this loss Thus far, at least, recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a safe, un-envied throne
Yielded with full consent.. The happier state In heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the thund'rer's aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain. With this advantage then To union and firm faith, and firm accord,a a More than can be in heav'n, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper, than prosperity
Could have assur'd us, and by what best way, Whether of open war, or covert guile, 15% We now debate. Who can advise, may speak.
XX. Moloch's oration for war.
My sentence is for open war:" of wiles, More unexpert, I boast not: them let those Contrive who need; or when they need; not now. For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit ling'ring here Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place. Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns
By our delay! No,-let us rather choose, Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once O'er heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder; and, for lightning, see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels: and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, His own invented tarments.--But perhaps The way seems difficult, and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foc. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursu'd us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low?Th' ascent is easy then :- 'Th' event is fear'd':-should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may To our destruction; if there be in hell Fear to be worse destroy'd.-What can be worse Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge
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