[Exeunt Natta and Satrius.]
SABINUS.
But these our times
Are not the same, Arruntius.
ARRUNTIUS.
Times! the men,
The men are not the same: ’tis we are base,
Poor, and degenerate from the exalted strain
Of our great fathers. Where is now the soul
Of god-like Cato? he, that durst be good,
When Cæsar durst be evil; and had power,
As not to live his slave, to die his master?
Or where’s the constant Brutus, that being proof
Against all charm of benefits, did strike
So brave a blow into the monster’s heart
That sought unkindly to captive his country?
O, they are fled the light! Those mighty spirits
Lie raked up with their ashes in their urns,
And not a spark of their eternal fire
Glows in a present bosom. All’s but blaze,
Flashes and smoke, wherewith we labour so,
There’s nothing Roman in us; nothing good,
Gallant, or great: ’tis true that Cordus says,
“Brave Cassius was the last of all that race.”
Drusus passes over the stage, attended by Haterius, etc.
SABINUS.
Stand by! lord Drusus.
HATERIUS.
The emperor’s son! give place.
SILIUS.
I like the prince well.
ARRUNTIUS.
A riotous youth;
There’s little hope of him.
SABINUS.
That fault his age
Will, as it grows, correct. Methinks he bears
Himself each day more nobly than other;
And wins no less on men’s affections,
Than doth his father lose. Believe me,
I love him; And chiefly for opposing to Sejanus.
SILIUS.
And I, for gracing his young kinsmen so,
The sons of prince Germanicus: it shews
A gallant clearness in him, a straight mind,
That envies not, in them, their father’s name.