CATILINE. Oh, irresistibly you lure me on—
FURIA. Come, let us use the present moment then! High o'er the hills, beyond the sea's expanse,— Far, far from Rome we first will stay our journey. Thousands of friends will follow you outright; In foreign lands we shall a home design; There shall we rule; 'twill there be brought to light That no hearts ever beat as yours and mine.
CATILINE. Oh, wonderful!—But flee? Why must we flee? Here too our love for freedom can be nourished; Here also is a field for thought and action, As vast as any that your soul desires.
FURIA. Here, do you say? Here, in this paltry Rome, Where naught exists but thraldom and oppression? Ah, Lucius, are you likewise one of those Who can Rome's past recall without confession Of shame? Who ruled here then? Who rule to-day? Then an heroic race—and now a rabble, The slaves of other slaves—
CATILINE. Mock me you may;— Yet know,—to save Rome's freedom from this babble, To see yet once again her vanished splendor, Gladly I should, like Curtius, throw myself Into the abyss—
FURIA. I trust you, you alone; Your eyes glow bright; I know you speak the truth. Yet go; the priestesses will soon appear; Their wont it is to meet here at this hour.
CATILINE. I go; but only to return again. A magic power binds me to your side;— So proud a woman have I never seen.
FURIA. [With a wild smile.] Then pledge me this; and swear that you will keep Whatever you may promise. Will you, Lucius?
CATILINE. I will do aught my Furia may require; Command me,—tell me what am I to promise.
FURIA. Then listen. Though I dwell a captive here, I know there lives a man somewhere in Rome Whom I have sworn deep enmity to death— And hatred even beyond the gloomy grave.