Like one of Juno's or of Jove's disguise,
In either thee or me: and will as soon,

When things succeed, be thrown by, or let fall,
As is a veil put off, a visor changed,

Or the scene shifted in our theatres―
Who's that?
Aur. Or of Cethegus.

It is the voice of Lentulus.

Cat. In, my fair Aurelia,

[Noise within.

And think upon these arts: they must not see
How far you're trusted with these privacies,

Though on their shoulders, necks and heads you rise.

[Exit AURELIA.

Enter LENTULUS, in discourse with CETHEGUS.

Lent. It is, methinks, a morning full of fate !
It riseth slowly, as her sullen car

Had all the weights of sleep and death hung at it!
She is not rosy-finger'd, but swoll'n black;
Her face is like a water turn'd to blood,

And her sick head is bound about with clouds,

As if she threaten'd night ere noon of day!

It does not look as it would have a hail

Or health wish'd in it, as on other morns.

Cet. Why, all the fitter, Lentulus; our coming

Is not for salutation, we have business.

Cat. Said nobly, brave Cethegus! Where's Autronius? Cet. Is he not come ?

Cat. Not here.

Cet. Nor Vargunteius ?

Cat. Neither.

Cet. A fire in their beds and bosoms,

That so will serve their sloth rather than virtue !
They are no Romans,—and at such high need

As now!

Len. Both they, Longinus, Lecca, Curius,
Fulvius, Gabinus, gave me word, last night,
By Lucius Bestia, they would all be here,
And early.

Cet. Yes; as you, had I not call'd you.
Come, we all sleep, and are mere dormice; flies
A little less than dead: more dulness hangs
On us than on the morn. We are spirit-bound
In ribs of ice, our whole bloods are one stone,
And honour cannot thaw us, nor our wants,
Though they burn hot as fevers to our states.
Cat. I muse they would be tardy at an hour
Of so great purpose.

Cet. If the gods had call'd

Them to a purpose, they would just have come
With the same tortoise speed; that are thus slow
To such an action, which the gods will envy,
As asking no less means than all their powers,
Conjoin'd, to effect! I would have seen Rome burn
By this time, and her ashes in an urn;

The kingdom of the senate rent asunder,

And the degenerate talking gown run frighted
Out of the air of Italy.

Cat. Spirit of men !

Thou heart of our great enterprise ! how much
I love these voices in thee !

Cet. O, the days

Of Sylla's sway, when the free sword took leave
To act all that it would!

Cat. And was familiar
With entrails, as our augurs.

Cet. Sons kill'd fathers,

Brothers their brothers.

Cat. And had price and praise.

All hate had license given it, all rage reins.

Cet. Slaughter bestrid the streets, and stretch'd him

self

To seem more huge; whilst to his stained thighs
The gore he drew flow'd up, and carried down
Whole heaps of limbs and bodies through his arch.
No age was spared, no sex.

Cat. Nay, no degree.

Cet. Not infants in the porch of life were free.
The sick, the old, that could but hope a day
Longer by nature's bounty, not let stay,

Virgins, and widows, matrons, pregnant wives,
All died.

Cat. 'Twas crime enough, that they had lives:
To strike but only those that could do hurt,

Was dull and poor: some fell to make the number,
As some the prey.

Cet. The rugged Charon fainted,

And ask'd a navy, rather than a boat,

To ferry over the sad world that came:

The maws and dens of beasts could not receive
The bodies that those souls were frighted from;
And e'en the graves were fill'd with men yet living,
Whose flight and fear had mix'd them with the dead.
Cat. And this shall be again, and more, and more,
Now Lentulus, the third Cornelius,

Is to stand up in Rome.

Lent. Nay, urge not that

Is so uncertain.

Cat. How!

Lent. I mean, not clear'd,

And therefore not to be reflected on.

Cat. The Sybil's leaves uncertain! or the comments Of our grave, deep, divining men not clear.

Lent. All prophecies, you know, suffer the torture.

í

Cat. But this already hath confess'd, without: And so been weigh'd, examined and compared, As 'twere malicious ignorance in him

Would faint in the belief.

Lent. Do you believe it?

Cat. Do I love Lentulus, or pray to see it?
Lent. The augurs all are constant I am meant.
Cat. They had lost their science else.

Lent. They count from Cinna.

Cat. And Sylla next, and so make you the third;
All that can say the sun is risen, must think it.

Lent. Men mark me more of late, as I come forth.

Cat. Why, what can they do less? Cinna and Sylla
Are set and gone; and we must turn our eyes
On him that is, and shines. Noble Cethegus,
But view him with me here? he looks already
As if he shook a sceptre o'er the senate,

And the awed purple dropp'd their rods and axes:
The statues melt again, and household gods
In groans confess the travail of the city;
The very walls sweat blood before the change,
And stones start out to ruin ere it comes.

Cet. But be, and we, and all are idle still.
Lent. I am your creature, Sergius; and whate'er
The great Cornelian name shall win to be,
It is not augury nor the Sybil's books,
But Catiline that makes it.

Cat. I am a shadow

To honour'd Lentulus, and Cethegus here,
Who are the heirs of Mars.

Cet. By Mars himself,

Cataline is more my parent; for whose virtue

Earth cannot make a shadow great enough,

[they are.

Though envy should come too. [Noise within.] O, here
Now we shall talk more, though we yet do nothing.

Enter AUTRONIUS, VARGUNTEIUS, LONGINUS, CURIUS,
LECCA, BESTIA, FULVIUS, GABINIUS, etc. and Servants.

Aut. Hail, Lucius Catiline.
Var. Hail, noble Sergius.
Lon. Hail, Publius Lentulus.
Cur. Hail, the third Cornelius.
Lec. Caius Cethegus, hail.
Cet. Hail, sloth and words,
Instead of men and spirits!
Cat. Nay, dear Caius-

Cet. Are your eyes yet unseel'd? dare they look day In the dull face?

Cat. He's zealous for the affair,

And blames your tardy coming, gentlemen.

Cet. Unless we had sold ourselves to sleep and ease, And would be our slaves' slaves

Cat. Pray you forbear,

Cet. The north is not so stark and cold.

Cat. Cethegus

Bes. We shall redeem all if your fire will let us. Cat. You are too full of lightning, noble Caius. Boy, see all doors be shut, that none approach us [bid On this part of the house. [Exit Servant.] Go you, and The priest, he kill the slave I mark'd last night, And bring me of his blood, when I shall call him: Till then, wait all without.

Var. How is't, Autronius?
Aut. Longinus?

Lon. Curius?

[Exeunt Servants,

Cur. Lecca?

Var. Feel you nothing?

Lon. A strange unwonted horror doth invade me,

I know not what it is.

[A darkness comes over the place.

..17...