Plac. Assuage, great prince, your passion, lest you shew There's somewhat in your soul which fate can bow.
Por. Fortune should by your greatness be controuled: Arm your great mind, and let her take no hold.
Max. To tame philosophers teach constancy; There is no farther use of it in me. Gods!—but why name I you! All that was worth a prayer to you is gone;— I ask not back my virtue, but my son.
Alb. His too great thirst of fame his ruin brought; Though, sir, beyond all human force he fought.
Plac. This was my vision of this fatal day!
Alb. With a fierce haste he led our troops the way, While fiery showers of sulphur on him rained; Nor left he, till the battlements he gained: There with a forest of their darts he strove, And stood, like Capaneus defying Jove; With his broad sword the boldest beating down, While fate grew pale lest he should win the town; And turned the iron leaves of its dark book, To make new dooms, or mend what it mistook; Till, sought by many deaths, he sunk, though late, And by his fall asserted doubtful fate.
Val. Oh my dear brother! whom heaven let us see, And would not longer suffer him to be!
Max. And didst not thou a death with honour chuse, [To Alb.
But impudently liv'st to bring this news? After his loss how did'st thou dare to breathe? But thy base ghost shall follow him in death. A decimation I will strictly make Of all, who my Charinus did forsake; And of each legion, each centurion Shall die:—Placidius, see my pleasure done.
Por. Sir, you will lose, by this severity, Your soldiers' hearts.