That mad wild Bull whom Marius lets loose
On each occafion when he'd make Rome feel him,
To tofs our Laws and Liberties i'th' Air.

ANTONIUS.

That lawless Tribune then must be reduc'd, Unhing'd from off the Pow'r that holds him up, His Band of full fix hundred Roman Knights, All in their Youth, and pamper'd high with Riot, Which he his Guard against the Senate calls; Tall wild young Men, and fit for glorious Mischiefs. METELLUS.

Fear nothing; let but Sylla once have Pow'r,
And then fee how like Day he'll break upon 'em,
And scatter all thofe Goblins of the Night,
Confufion's Night; where in the dark Disorders
Of a divided State, Men know not where
Or how to walk, for fear they lose their way,
And ftumble upon Ruin. Mark the Race
Of Sylla's Life; observe but what has past,
How ftill he'as borne a Face against this Marius,
And kept an equal ftretch with him for Glory.
CINNA.

He'as in the Capitol an Image fet

Of Gold, in honour of his own Atchievement;
Wherein's describ'd how the Numidian King
Gave up Jugurtha Prifoner to Sylla,

And all in fpite of Marius. Oh now,
If you are truly Roman Nobles, wake,

Refume your Rights, and keep your Sylla Conful.
Courage, Nobility, and innate Honour,

Juftice unbiafs'd, the true Roman Spirit,

Prefence of Mind, and refolute Performance ba
Meet all in Sylla.

egård) wild gAll for SyllaMit que [Exeunt.

Enter

Enter CAIUS MARIUS, MARIUS Junior, and GRANIUS.

CAIUS MARIUS.

There Rome's Dæmons go.

Like Witches in ill Weather, in this Storm
And Tempeft of the State they meet in Corners,
And urge Deftruction higher for this end

They've rais'd their Imp, their dear Familiar Sylla,
To cross my Way and ftop my Tide of Glory.
If I am Caius Marius, if I'm he

That brought Jugurtha chain'd in Triumph hither;
If I am he that led Rome's Armies out,

Spent all my Years in Toil and cruel War,
Chill'd my warm Youth in cold and Winter-Camps,
"Till I brought fettled Peace and Plenty home,
Made her the Court and Envy of the World;
Why does fhe use me thus?

MARIUS Junior.

Because fhe's rul'd

By lazy Drones that feed on others Labours,
And fatten with the Fruits they never toil'd for;
Old gouty Senators of crude Minds and Brains,
That always are fermenting Mischief up,
And stile their private Malice public Safety.

GRANIUS.

One difcontented Villain leads a State.

To Madness. There's that Bell-weather of Mutiny
And damn'd Sedition, Cinna, of a Life

And Manners fordid; one whose Gain's his God;
And to that curfed end he'd facrifice

His Country's Honour, Liberty, or Peace:

Nay, had he any, ev'n his

s very Gods.
CAIUS MARIUS.

H'as taken Rome even in the nicest Minute,
And easily debauch'd her to his ends,
When she was over-cloy'd with Happiness,
Wantonly full, and longing after Change...

F 3

For

For Sylla too, a Boy, a Woman's Play-thing,
She has relinquifh'd me, and flouts my Age.
Conftant ill Fortune wait upon her for❜t.
And wreck her Fate as low as firft I found it,
When it lay trembling like a hunted Prey,
And hungry Ruin had it in the Wind;

When barbarous Nations, of a Race unknown,
From undiscover'd Northern Regions came,
To lay her wafte, and fweep her from the Earth;
Till I, I Marius rofe, the Soul of all

The hope fh'had left, and with unwearied Toil,
Dangers each Hour, and never-fleeping Care,
(A burden for a God) oppos'd myself.
'Twixt her and Defolation, gorg'd the Maw

Of Death with slaughter'd numbers of her Foes,
Reftor'd her Peace, and made her Name renown'd.
MARIUS Junior.

The Glory of that War must be remember'd, When Rome, like her old Mother. Troy, fhall lie -Full three hundred thousand Men,

In Afhes

All Sons of Fortune, born and bred in Fields,
Whose Trade was War, and Camps their Habitation,
Hung like a Swarm of Mischiefs on the Hills
Of Italy, and threatned Fate to Europe.

GRANIU S.

They came in Tribes, as if to take Poffeffion,
And feem'd a People whom the Hand of Fate
Had fcourg'd by Famine from a barren Land;
Of Vifage foul and ugly, pinch'd and chapp'd
By bitter Frofts and Winter-Winds; yet fierce
As hungry Lions of the Defart.

Their Wives with Loads of Children at their Backs,
Bold manly Hags, whom Shame had long forfook,
And vagrant living had inur'd to Ill,

Follow'd in Troops like Furies.

MARIUS Junior.

And all was done too when that Dolt Metellus

Shrunk

Shrunk like a Worm, and Sylla scarce was heard of.
CAIUS MARIUS.

Twice

That curft Metellus ftill has been my Plague,
And ever done me most deliberate Wrong;
Because, like a tame Hawk, I scorn'd to fly
Juft at his Quartres, and attend his Lure.
Because I grew too great for him in Wars,
And ferv'd his Country well, he hates me.
Have I already offer'd him Alliance,
And ask'd Lavinia, Marius, for thy Bed.
Beggary catch me when again I court him.
Why figh'ft thou, Boy? ftill at th' unlucky Name
Of that Lavinia, I have obferv'd thee thus

With thy Looks fix'd, as if thy Fate had feiz'd thee. MARIUS Junior.

Why did you name Lavinia? would fh'had ne'er Been born, or that Metellus had not got her. CAIUS MARIUS.

Forget her, Marius; she's a dainty Bit, A Delicate, for none but Sylla's taste, The Fav'rite Sylla, th' Idol that's set up

To blast thy Hopes and cloud thy Father's Glories. V Confider that, my Marius, and forget her.

MARIUS Junior.

Forget her? Oh! fh'has Beauty might enfnare A Conqueror's Soul and make him leave his Crowns At random to be fcuffled for by Slaves.

Forget her? Oh! teach me (great Parent) teach me ; Read me each Day a Lecture of the Wrongs

Done you by that inglorious Patrician,

Till my Heart know no Longings but Revenge,
And quite forget Lavinia e'er dwelt there.

Methinks 'twould not be hard, e'en midft the Senate,
To strike this through him in his Conful's Chair,
Tumble him thence, and mount it in his Itead.

CATUS MARIUS.

Oh! name not him and Confulship together.

Sylla and Conful? set 'em far

apart

As Eaft from Weft, for as they now are met,
It bodes Confufion, Rome, to thee and thine.
GRANIUS.

I'd rather fee Rome but one funeral Pile,
And all her People quitting her like Bees,
Driven by Sulphur from their Hives;.
Much rather fee her Senators in Chains

Drag'd through the Streets to Death, and Slaves made Lords, Than fee that vain prefumptuous Upftart's Pride

Succeed to lead the Armies you have bred.

CAIUS MARIUS.

"Tis fuch a Wrong as even tortures Thought,
That we who've been her Champion forty Years,
Fought all her Battles with renown'd Succefs,
And never loft her yet a Man in vain,

Should, now her nobleft Fortune is at Stake,
And Mithridates' Sword is drawn, be thrown
Afide, like fome old broken batter'd Shield:
To fee my Laurels wither as I rust:
And all this manag'd by the curfed, Craft,
Petulant Envy, and malignant Spight
Of that old barking Senate's Dog, Metellus.
Strike me, juft Gods, with Thunder to the Earth,
Lay my gray Hairs low in the Cave of Death,
Rather than live in Mem'ry of fuch shame....
GRANIUS,

Perifh Metellus firft, and all his Race.

CAIUS MARIUS.

There spoke the Soul of Marius. By the Head

Of Jove,

I hate him worse than Famine or Diseases.

Perish his Family, let inveterate Hate

Commence between our Houses from this Moment;

And meeting never let 'em Bloodlefs

part.

Go, Granius, bid Sulpitius straight be ready

To meet me with his Guards upon the Forum. ›1

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