Of noblest parentage, of fair demesnes,
Early in fame, youthful, and well allied,
In ev'ry thing as thought could wish a man,
To have at last a wretched, puling fool,
A whining suckling, ign'rant of her good,
To answer, I'll not wed, I cannot love!
If thou art mine, resolve upon compliance,
Or think no more to rest beneath my roofs.
Go, try thy risk in fortune's barren field,
Graze where thou wilt, but think no more of
Till thy obedience welcome thy return.

me,

Lav. Will you then quite cast off your poor Lavinia,

And turn me like a vagrant out of doors,

To wander up and down the streets of Rome,
And beg my bread with sorrow? Can I bear
The proud and hard revilings of a slave,
Fat with his master's plenty, when I ask
A little pity for my pinching wants?
Shall I endure the cold, wet, windy night,
To seek a shelter under dropping eves,

A porch my bed, a threshold for my pillow,

Shiv'ring and starv'd for want of warmth and food,
Swell'd with my sighs, and almost choak'd with tears?
Must I, at the uncharitable gates

Of proud great men, implore relief in vain?
Must I, your poor Lavinia, bear all this,
Because I am not mistress of my heart,

Or cannot love according to your liking?

Met. Art thou not mistress of thy heart then?
Lav. No;

'Tis giv'n away.

Met. To whom?

Lav. I dare not tell.

But I'll endeavour strongly to forget him,
If you'll forget but Sylla.

Met. Thou dost well.

Conceal his name, if thou'dst preserve his life:

For if there be a death in Rome that might

Be bought, it should not miss him. From this hour
Curst be thy purposes, most curst thy love.
And if thou marriest, in thy wedding-night
May all the curses of an injur'd parent
Fall thick, and blast the blessings of thy bed.

Lav. What have you done? Alas! sir, as you spoke, Methought the fury of your words took place,

And struck my heart like lightning, dead within me. Gone too?[Exit Metellus.

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds

That sees into the bottom of my grief?

Alas! that ever heav'n should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!

What say'st thou hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, Nurse, in this extremity.

Nurse. Marry, and there's but need on't: Od's my life, this dad of our's was an arrant wag in his young days for all this. Well, and what then? Marius is a man, and so's Sylla. Oh! but Marius's lip! and then Sylla's nose and forehead! But then Marius's eye again, how 'twill sparkle, and twinkle, and rowl, and sleer! But to see Sylla a horseback! But to see Marius walk or dance*! such a leg, such a foot, such a shape, such a motion! Ah, a-well, Marius is the man, must be the man, and shall be the man.

Lav. He's by his father's nature rough and fierce, And knows not yet the follies of my love:

And when he does, perhaps may scorn and hate me.

Nurse. Yes, yes, he's a rude, unmaunerly, ill-bred fellow he's not the flower of courtesy; but I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, child, serve God. What! a father's an old man; and old inen, they say, will take care. But a young man! girl, ah! a young man! there's a great deal in a young man; and thou shalt have a young man. What! I

Dancing was not admitted among the fashionable accomplishments of the Romans.

have been thy nurse these sixteen years, and I should know what's good for thee, surely. Oh! Ay-a young

man!

Lav. Now pr'ythee leave me to myself a-while.

"Tis hardly yet within two hours of day.

[Exit Nurse.

Sad nights seem long-I'll down into the garden.
The queen of night

Shines fair with all her virgin stars about her.
Not one amongst them all a friend to me:
Yet by their light a-while I'll guide my steps,

And think what course my wretched state must take.
Oh, Marius!

[Exit Lavinia.

SCENE II*.-A walled Garden belonging to Metellus's

House.

Enter MARIUS Junior.

love.

Mar. jun. How vainly have I spent this idle night! Ev'n wine can't heal the ragings of my This sure should be the mansion of Lavinia; For in such groves the deities first dwelt. Can I go forward, when my heart is here?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

[Enters the garden.

Enter GRANIUS and SULPITIUS.

Gra. This way he went-Why, Marius! brother Marius!

Sulp. Perhaps he's wise, and gravely gone to bed. There's not so weak a drunkard as a lover;

One bottle to his lady's health quite addles him.

Gra. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard-wall,h Call, good Sulpitius.

* "Romeo and Juliet," act 1. sc. 1.

Sulp. Nay, I'll conjure too.

Why, Marius! Humours! Passion! Madman! Lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh;

Speak but one word, and I am satisfied.

He hears not, neither stirs he yet. Nay then,
I conjure thee by bright Lavinia's eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quiv'ring thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Gra. Hold, good Sulpitius, this will anger himSulp. This cannot anger him. "Twould anger him To raise a spirit in his lady's arms,

Till she had laid and charm'd it down again.

Gra. Let's go; he has hid himself among these trees, To dye his melancholic mind in night:

Blind in his love, and best befits the dark.

Sulp. Pox o'this love, this litle scarecrow love, That frights fools, with his painted bow of lath, Out of their feeble sense.

Gra. Stop there-let's leave the subject and it's slave; Or burn Metellus' house about his ears.

Sulp. This morning Sylla means to enter Rome:
Your father too demands the consulship.

Yet now, when he should think of cutting throats,
Your brother's lost; lost in a maze of love,

The idle truantry of callow boys.

I'd rather trust my fortunes with a daw,

That hops at ev'ry butterfly he sees,

Than have to do in honour with a man,

That sells his virtue for a woman's smiles.

[Exeunt.

Enter MARIUS Junior, in the Garden*.

Mar. jun. He laughs at wounds, that never felt their

smart.

* "Romeo and Juliet," act 1. sc. 2.

What light is that which breaks thro' yonder shade?

Oh! 'tis my love.

[Lavinia in the Balcony.

She seems to hang upon the cheek of night,

Fairer than snow upon the raven's back,

Or a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear.

Were she in yonder sphere, she'd shine so bright,
That birds would sing, and think the day were breaking.
Lav. Ab me!

Mar. jun. She speaks:

Oh! speak again, bright angel; for thou art

As glorious to this night, as sun at noon
To the admiring eyes of gazing mortals,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Lav. O Marius, Marius! wherefore art thou Marius? Deny thy family, renounce thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer call Metellus parent.

Mar. jun. Shall I hear this, and yet keep silence? Lav. No.

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

Thou would'st be still thyself, tho' not a Marius;
Belov'd of me, and charming as thou art.
What's in a name? that which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.
So Marius, were he not Marius call'd,
Be still as dear to my desiring eyes,
Without that title. Marius, lose thy name,
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all Lavinia.

Mar. jun. At thy word I take thee;

Call me but thine, and joys will so transport me,

I shall forget myself, and quite be chang'd.

Lav. Who art thou, that, thus hid and veil'd in night,

Hast overheard my follies?

Mar. jun. By a name