LUCRETIUS. And what event shall all these troubles bring?
SYLLA. This—Sylla in fortune will exceed a king.
But, friends and soldiers, with dispersed bands
Go seek out Marius' fond confederates:
Some post along those unfrequented paths,
That track by nooks unto the neighbouring sea:
Murder me Marius, and maintain my life.
And that his favourites in Rome may learn
The difference betwixt my fawn and frown,
Go cut them short, and shed their hateful blood,
To quench these furies of my froward mood.
[Exit Soldiers.
LUCRETIUS. Lo, Sylla, where our senators approach;
Perhaps to 'gratulate thy good success.
Enter ANTHONY, GRANIUS, LEPIDUS.
SYLLA. Ay, that perhaps was fitly placed there:
But, my Lucretius, these are cunning lords,
Whose tongues are tipp'd with honey to deceive.
As for their hearts, if outward eyes may see them,
The devil scarce with mischief might agree them.
LEPIDUS. Good fortune to our consul, worthy Sylla.
SYLLA. And why not general 'gainst the King of Pontus?
GRANIUS. And general against the King of
Pontus.
SYLLA. Sirrah, your words are good, your thoughts are ill.
Each milkwhite hair amid this mincing beard,
Compar'd with millions of thy treacherous thoughts,
Would change their hue through vigour of thy hate.
But, did not pity make my fury thrall,
This sword should finish hate, thy life, and all.
I prythee, Granius, how doth Marius?