IX.-EXPULSION OF CATILINE FROM THE SENATE.
Catiline conspired with many of the most worthless characters in Rome to overthrow the government and rule the state. The conspiracy being detected by Cicero, the consul, Catiline was driven from the senate and from the city, and was killed at the battle of Pistoria in 63 B.C.
SCENE.-Senate in session; a consul in the chair; lictors present.
CICERO concluding his speech.
Cicero. OUR long dispute must close. Take one proof
Has been commanded to attend the senate.
He dares not come! I now demand your votes!
Is he condemned to exile?
(Enter Catiline hastily, and as he seals himself on one side, all the senators go over to the other.)
Cic. (Turning to Catiline.) Here I repeat the charge, to gods and men,
Of treasons manifold;—that but this day
He has received despatches from the rebels;
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul
To seize the province,-nay, he has levied troops,
And raised his rebel standard; that but now
A meeting of conspirators was held
Under his roof, with mystic rites and oaths,
Pledged round the body of a murdered slave.
To these he has no answer.
Catiline. Conscript fathers!
I do not rise to waste the night in words;
Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my trade:
But here I stand for right!—Let him show proofs !-
For Roman right! though none, it seems, dare stand
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there!
Cling to your master,-judges, Romans, slaves!
His charge is false! I dare him to his proofs.
You have my answer: let my actions speak!
Cic. (Interrupting.) Deeds shall convince you! Has the traitor done?
Cat. But this I will avow, that I have scorned,
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong;
Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword,
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back,
Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts
The gates of honour on me,-turning out
The Roman from his birthright,—and for what?
To fling your offices to every slave: (Looking round him.)
Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb;
And having wound their loathsome track to the top
Of this huge, mouldering monument of Rome,
Hang hissing at the nobler men below.
Cic. This is his answer! Must I bring more proofs? Fathers, you know there lives not one of us,
But lives in peril of his midnight sword.
Lists of proscription have been handed round,
In which your properties are made
(A cry without, “More prisoners!" Enter an officer with letters for Cicero, who, after looking at them, sends them round the senate.)
Cic. Fathers of Rome! if men can be convinced
By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is!
Look on these letters! Here's a deep-laid plot
To wreck the provinces; a solemn league,
Made with all form and circumstance.
Is desperate,—all the slaves are up,-Rome shakes!—
The heavens alone can tell how near our graves
We stand even here! The name of Catiline
Is foremost in the league. He was their king.
Tried and convicted Traitor! Go from Rome!
Cat. (Rising haughtily.) Come, consecrated lictors, from (To the senate.)
Fling down your sceptres!-take the rod and axe,
And make the murder, as you make the law!
Cic. (To an officer, and interrupting Catiline.) Give up the record of his banishment.
(The officer gives it to the consul.) Cat. (With indignation.) Banished from Rome! What's banished, but set free
From daily contact of the things I loathe?
"Tried and convicted traitor!" who says this?
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?
Banished? I thank you for't! It breaks my chain !
I held some slack allegiance till
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords!
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities!
But here I stand and scoff you !-here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face!
Your consul's merciful; for this, all thanks!
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline!
Consul. (Reads.) "Lucius Sergius Catiline! by the decree of the senate, you are declared an enemy and alien to the state, and banished from the territory of the commonwealth!" (Turning to the lictors.)
Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple!
Cat. Traitor!" I go,-but I return! This trial!
Here I devote your senate!-I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,
And make the infant's sinews strong as steel.
This day's the birth of sorrows! This hour's work
Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths, my lords!
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus! all shames and crimes;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!
George, Duke of Clarence, brother of King Edward IV., died in the Tower of London in 1478. Shakspere adopts the rumour that the Duke of Gloucester assisted the murderers in despatching his unfortunate brother; some alleged that he was the sole executioner.
METHOUGHT that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy;
And in my company my brother Gloster:
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches; thence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befallen us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
O then methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea.
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
And often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air;
But smothered it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
-My dream was lengthened after life;
Oh, then began the tempest of my soul!
I passed, methought, the melancholy flood
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger-soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cried aloud,-" What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?"
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood; and he shrieked out aloud,—
"Clarence is come,—false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury ;-
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torment!"
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howléd in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.
Oh, Brackenbury, I have done these things,-
That now give evidence against my soul,-
For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! —
O Heaven! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
O spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!— I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
XI.-CASSIUS ROUSING BRUTUS AGAINST CESAR. (SHAKSPERE.)
Cas. Well; honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
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