HORACE his ORATION.

IF I had a heart, O People of Rome, that knew as well to complaine as to conquer, it may bee the tenderneſs of my Teares would obtaine that com­paſſion from you, which is denyed to the remem­brance of my Victories: See at your feet, O my Judges, an unfortunate man, to whom without boaſt, you are indebted for all your felicity; be­hold me ſuppliant, but without teares, they were all ſhed in Tuſcany upon the bodies of my two Bro­thers, not believing then, that he who had ſaved his Countrey, ſhould ever have need of weeping: O houſhold gods defended by me! you tutelary ones, whom I have preſerved, if I have deſerved any recompence, teach me onely what Divinity I ought to implore, to ſave my life, ſince you will not do it; O deceitfull hopes, unprofitable labours! O prodigy to be admired! 2Horace is ſuppliant, and not ſuppliant to any offended Deity, but to that Republique which holds from his Victory, that power which it now exer­ciſeth upon him. O you gods who looked with a favorable eye upon the la­bour I underwent, to preſerve your Temples, and your Altars, ſuffer not that I make my vowes any more to you in vaine; let mee obtaine attention and pitty in thoſe hearts, which ſleep when they ſhould remember good turns, and who ſo ſlightly eſteeme their Wives, their Countrey, their liber­ties, then lives, their Empire; nay, their gods themſelves, which I have preſerved to them, in expoſing my life to danger; I would not for an hun­dred lives, O my Judges, that you ſhould believe me ſo affrighted at death, that it were abſolutely neceſſary for mee to beg life at your hands. Fathers conſcript, I am a Roman born of that Houſe, in which the Republique hath found three men, whom it judged worthy to defend it. I have a ſoul reſolute enough to meet a greater danger than that I am in, and if the fact which I have committed (which ought to be ſtiled a zeale for my Countrey) might not alſo bee named a fratricide, I ſhould ſlight that death, which I deſired in the field, when my dear Brothers fell; I have a heart which loves life, when it may doe ſervice to my Countrey, and which would not flie death, when it is neceſſary to confirm the generoſity of life: when is it that death could be leſs frightfull, or more willingly imbraced than now, when I have given life to the people of Rome? Death cannot come too ſwift to him who hath attained to honour and glory, neither can it be ill for a good man: I do not refuſe to offer my head to the block, yet I confeſs I have ſome repug­nancy, to ſee my ſelfe ready to be deprived of life by the ingratefull ſword of the Romans, and be confident, I have more griefe to finde my high ſer­vices at ſo low an eſteem, that I ſhould need to ask life, then I ſhall have to loſe it: I returne triumphant, O my Judges, from a field, where (by this ſword) I have interred the fortune of Hetruria, and from a field which I have beſprinkled with my owne, and my Brothers bloud, and from a field conſecrated to the victory of the Romans, all our Countrey, and all our Em­pire was nothing but Palmes and Lawrels, the Earth, the Army, the Hea­vens, and the gods applauded our Triumph, when a Woman preſented her­ſelfe before me, afflicted at my Victory, ſad at the greatneſs of the Empire, upbraiding and curſing the valour of my Arme and your Fortune, invoking the vengeance of the Heavens, and the gods, wiſhing a generall deſolation of our Countrey, ſtriving to draw upon us, by her imprecations, the ill in­fluence of the ſtars, and the fury of Hell: My ſword, accuſtomed to ſhed the bloud of them, who look'd with griefe upon the happineſſe of my deare Countrey was, in this, but the juſt revenger of ſo baſe and black a crime:3 I ſheath'd my Ponyard in the heart of her, who could know how to grieve at the advantages of her Countrey; I believed I had made a juſt ſacrifice of that infamous one, who when ſhee died wept at the victory of the Repub­lique.

This is the Fact, for which thoſe that envy my happy ſucceſſe, have made me guilty, that they might utterly deface that little vertue which they can­not equall: they reſolve I ſhall ſuffer becauſe I have deſtroyed a fierce Ene­my, and ſuch a one, that even among the Tuſcane Troups, there is not to bee found a perſon who bewailed their misfortunes with ſo great a paſ­ſion: But if to deſtroy the Enemies of our Countrey, be a crime meriting death, why did I not ſuffer it in that day wherin I returned Conqueror of the three brave Curiacii? what? ſhould that unfortunate Wretch have been exempted from the puniſhment ſhee deſerved, becauſe ſhee was born with­in thoſe Walls, which ſhe wiſht to ſee buried in their own Ruines? It was that which was not reaſonable, and that which I could not ſuffer; for I be­lieved, it was a ſpectacle too ſad, for the eyes of a Roman to ſee any one weep in the midſt of the victories of their Countrey; why did you (O Romans) lay all the care of the Common-wealth upon my ſhoulders, when it was tottering and ready to fall; if you believed me ſo feeble that I could endure to ſee any body ſhed tears, as condemning my actions? I put all my confi­dence in this, that thoſe who are to bee the Judges of my Cauſe, are the ſame perſons for whoſe ſake I committed the crime, and that thoſe who pronounce my death ſhall be forced to confeſſe, that it is from me alone they hold their liberties, their lives, their Authority, their Victory, and the Re­publique; and that from the fact for which you pretend I ought to make excuſes, I ſay, I ought to reap advantages: I was ſo zealous for the honour of my Countrey, that I did not forbeare to revenge it on my owne ſiſter, when ſhee wept and declared her ſelfe an enemy: Thoſe which love their Countrey leſs then I, might perhaps have pardoned its greateſt enemies; but I could not forgive my owne ſiſter, becauſe I loved my Countrey more then my ſiſter, more then my Father, yea, more then my ſelfe: I believed I ſhould have had more need to have implored your mercy for ſparing, rather than for killing a ſiſter that had ſo loſt her piety; but what ſaid I? a ſiſter? no, ſhe is no ſiſter of Horaces who bewailes the death of the Curiaces, and who with griefe beholds the Victory of her Countrey, and their Gods pre­ſerved; what? will it be poſſible to finde out a heart that beares ſo little affection to the Common-wealth, and ſo little gratitude to me, that it will not know that deſigne in killing that deteſtable perſon, was to extinguiſh a dangerous Crime, and not the life of a ſiſter? neither was ſhe a ſiſter when4 ſhe was an enemy of my Countrey, nor was I her brother when I thruſt my ponyard into her heart, I was the Arme of Victorious Rome, which de­ſtroyed the Enemy of the Republique, and its ſupporters: Let my Accuſers ſhew you by what degrees of wickedneſſe I have proceeded; can it be belie­ved that theſe hands yet never ſtained with bloud, but in a juſt cauſe, ſhould of the ſudden arrive to the higheſt pitch of impiety and fratricide? let them upbraid me with crime, if ever this Sword hath given death to any, but to ſave the life of my Countrey; I render thanks to Fortune, O Rome (deare to my heart) that ſhee hath given me ſo notable a way to ſhew the love I beare and owe thee, in the field I have fought againſt thine Enemies, and in the City againſt them of Nature, and I was no more conquered by the affe­ction I had for my ſiſter, then by the valour of the Tuſcans: Well then it is thought juſt that ſo great a favour as I have received from Fortune, ſhould coſt me no leſſe then my life, nor would I refuſe to give it upon this occaſion, if I had not reſolv'd to loſe it, O Rome, to adde to thy glory; what then ſhal I bee in a more dangerous condition that am victorious, then my Brothers (which were not? they found the end of their miſeries in their deſtruction, and I the beginning of my calamity in my Victory: Ought this to be the cauſe of my teares? or to ſay better fatall to me the love of the Common-wealth? the memory of my vertue? the glorious remembrance of my Victory, and triumph? I confeſs I pitty that part of my bloud which I ſpilt in deſtroying that unfortunate Woman; yet after all, I cannot think it ſpilt, ſeeing it was ſacrificed to the victory of the Common-wealth; and truly I had deſerved ſhe ſhould have wept for my atchievements, if I had not had generoſity enough to conquer the tenderneſs of Nature, and that my heart had wanted reſolution to take her life, that would elſe have drowned her ſelfe in envious teares, for the liberty purchaſed by my bloud, of her Coun­trey; by this action alone, our enemies from henceforward, can have no hope to reap any fruit of all their practiſes, when they ſhall ſee that it is permitted to ſacrifice our owne ſiſters that looke malignly upon the advan­tages of our ſwords; but my fault (juſtifiable if committed upon another) ſeemes only monſtrous, becauſe ſhe was a perſon ſo neare me in bloud, as if when we were to puniſh the malignants of our Countrey, we ought to take counſel of the inclinations of Nature: Conſider with a fatherly eye, O Se­nators, if it were not impoſſible for me to know that guilty one; for how could I take notice of her, as of a ſiſter, hearing her complain for the victory of her Brother? or how could I remember her to be a Roman, when ſhee ſpoke the ſence of the Tuſcans? I believed her to be a relique of the Curia­cii, and I thought I ſhould doe an Act of piety to my Countrey, in rending5 up by the root, a Tree that might bring fruit to ſupport our enemies power and if this action bee of a ſtraine ſo black and ſhamefull, that it cannot bee expiated but upon a Scaffold, with the bloud of this unfortunate man, who hath added one Naile to the Wheele of the Roman Fortune, then you think the death of her that bewayled your Victory, more incompatible with your government, then the life of him that gave it you: Perhaps it diſpleaſes you, that I ſhould take away from the Tuſcans her that might have increaſed the Curiaces; but believe me, if I had ſuffered a Woman, of the Houſe of the Horacii, to have been long fruitful in Tuſcany, it may be the Romans could not have kept their Empire, nor would the Tuſcans (at leaſt quietly) have permitted them. What? was the life of this Traytreſs ſo precious, that there muſt be ſacrific'd to it, that life which was the ſoule of the greatneſs, and Fortune of the Latines? But what voice, or what rumour is that I hear, which interupting my diſcourſe, hinders me from further declaring my in­nocence? Who are they that deny me the favour of pleading for that life, which hath preſerved the life and liberty of the Common-wealth? But be­hold a deadly ſpectacle, and worthy of tears; ſee, O my Judges, ſee my Fa­ther, who never fail'd of his duty to the Republique, but when he begat this Daughter; ſee, O ſee an unfortunate Father, who hath newly loſt two ſonnes, to aſſure to you thoſe powerfull ſeats you now poſſeſs, look how he fears to be depriv'd of the third and laſt, who ſurely (if there be any gods) ſhall not die without vengeance; hear how he complains, that he, a Roman, and chiefe of the Horatii ſhould be thought ſo baſe, that with his owne hands he would not have torne out my very bowels, if he did not know that his Daughter was juſtly ſhine; O Heavens! ſhall I bee ſo unfortunate to die, for taking out of the world a Woman who was thought unworthy to continue in it by her owne Father? Can you ſuppoſe that thoſe Troops which I have returned to you victorious, will ever endure to ſee him drag­ged to death that gave them life, and victory? What! ſhall Romes Enemies ſee him puniſhed, that the Common-wealth thought only worthy to defend its honour? Could the Tuſcans deſire more miſchiefe to him that rendred them miſerable? I am not ſo little acquainted with humane frailty, that I repine at my mortality, at my death, but I grieve for not being thought in­nocent, and to ſee that my Countrey will be guilty; things are reduc'd to ſuch terms, that as long as the Common-wealth remaines, it will bee ſtain'd with ingratitude; I am forc'd to deteſt my owne honour, O ſtrange eſtate that you have plac'd me in! ſince it is juſt to wiſh, that my death had gone before my victory, and the eſtabliſhment of your Empire. What! ſhall my fortune bee worſe in the Capitol then in Hetruria? Can that be, O Ro­mans? 6I ſweare by the ſouls of my two Brothers, who were ſo voluntarily ſacrific'd to your Greatneſs, that I have more ſhame of the Roman people, than grief for being ſo cruelly depriv'd of my life and triumph, which I have ſo well deſerv'd; but ſo long as I carry with mee to my Tombe the glori­ous Spoiles of the Curiacii, the Scaffold will be as honourable to me as the Capitol; I deſire nothing of you, O my Judges, but that you will be always your ſelves, and that before you pronounce the ſentence of my death, you will be pleaſed to remember, that while I was arming my ſelfe to the fight, you offer'd up Prayers and Vows to the gods for my life; ſtay! O ſtay you thunders, O you Powers that hearken to us, and tell how many times the people cried me up to be the Preſerver and Father of my Countrey; and if it bee true that I was ſo, will you puniſh Fratricide with Paricide, and in ſtead of imploying your gratefulneſs in adorning me with a Statua, will you take away my life in an ignominious manner? But if knowledge of the cauſe which made me commit the Fact? if the teares of my Father? if the merit of my Brothers? (who died for your ſervice) if my victorious Arme, conſecrated to the Altar of your fortune, hath not power and eloquence e­nough to make me obtain life? Why, O Senators, do you deferr my death ſo long? all that I look upon ſpeaks puniſhments, and there is nothing in my ſoule but mortall Chymera's; that I may not dye ſo many times, I am forc'd to ask my death as a favour from you, kill mee then quickly I pray you; what doſt thou ſtay for, O Lictor? come tie theſe hands which were heretofore the hands of the Republique; theſe hands which have made the Roman Eagles flie upon the Lawrels of Hetruria, and preſent the infamy of a Gallowes to him who hath advanc'd Palmes upon the Capitol: which of you calls my unhappy and deare Father, that he may come, alas, that hee may come and comfort my heart, by his laſt offices of kindneſs, and fortifie it againſt the rigour of my deſtiny? that hee may come with his laſt kiſſes, and ſuſtaine my feeble and languiſhing ſpirits? that hee may come, even that unfortunate man may come, and cloſe thoſe eies in death, to which he gave occaſion of ſeeing? Comfort him, O Senators, and tell him, that it is true I die honourably, tell him that the Gallowes (if ever upbraided in the Houſe of the Horacii) is not ſhamefull; tell him that I did not mount the Scaffold, but in deſcending from the Charriot of Triumph; make him re­member, that if there be Fathers that have had Children more happy, there is none that hath had a Son more generous; aſſure him, that you will alwaies remember the bloud of his Sons, loſt for the Common-wealth; ſweare to him, that you will not forget, that I have ſhed my bloud for your ſafeties; tell him, that you confeſſe, that it is from me you hold your plenty, and all7 your injoyments, the imbraces of your Wives, the Careſſes of your young children, the honour of your dignities, the ſafety of your Lives, the Liberty, the Greatneſs, and the Fortune of the Romane Empire: and to conclude, it is from my bloud and ſweat, that you have authority to condemn me to the Gallows; this unfortunate man; who hath enobled his death by the memo­riall of the generous actions of his life: And you my Companions, carry, I pray you, theſe Arms to thoſe miſerable Orphans, my deſolate Children; bid them remember that they were Horaces; and tell them, if they uſe them one day with an Arme equall to mine, they will produce their ordinary effects for the good of the Common-wealth. Enjoy in all peace, ye Nobles and people of Rome, our Countrey in the happy eſtate I leave it, and may it be eternally glorious, and full of Heroes; thou great Republique, theſe are my wiſhes in ſpight of my misfortunes: Countrey, ſweet Countrey, deare Countrey, to which Horace owes all, enjoy happineſs, O Citizens of Rome, Plenty, Riches, Peace, and Power: and ſeeing the Heavens would not permit me to be a ſharer with you, I rejoice that I was at leaſt an inſtru­ment by whom you are not left unfortunate: And provided I may die aſſu­red that the memory of Horace may ſometimes live in your hearts, of that Horace who never refuſed his bloud, to the ſword of the Enemy, to aſſure you your Goods, your Lives, your Countrey, and your Empire; I die the happieſt man that ever lived. But it is time, O Senators, that I hold my peace, and that I yield to violence. I have permitted my ſelfe to be tranſported by reſentments too tender, for though my misfortune hath made me drop a tear, yet my life paſt will not permit me to be ſeen in ſuch a poſture, neither do any of my actions deſerve ſighes; nor can I eſteem of a ſoule ſo effeminate that will eaſe its miſeries by tears: we muſt die as we have lived: in a word, it is for you to do as you will, & for me to do as I ought. I have ſaid.

Horace Oppoſed.

VVHich of you, O Fathers, Senators, and Roman Knights, is for my ſake ſo far toucht with compaſſion, at the ungratefull Office I am to perform, as to helpe to cover this face afflicted for the publique ſhame? and whither ſhall I turne mine eies, which had rather ſtill continue fixt upon the earth, than behold theſe walls, which have been the Sceane of Fratricide? what tears can I afford to the common miſeries, when I feele a particular griefe in my ſelf, that makes me weep whether I will or no? and invites me to lament my owne misfortune, which hath not only made me ſo unhappy to ſee the Common-wealth diſhonoured by a Citizen of Rome, but plac'd me in ſuch a condition, that I am forc'd to publiſh our ſhame, and plead for puniſhment againſt thoſe that ought to triumph? I vow to you, O S••­tors, I could wiſh my ſelfe without either heart or tongue, upon this occa­ſion; I never lookt upon a Victory more favourably than this, gotten by an unfortunate perſon; I rejoyced at his honour with a reſentment that was affectionate, gratefull and ſenſible of my Countries good; doe but imagine how heartily he did it, you that know what pleaſure a Victory may afford to thoſe who have ſav'd by it their Goods, their Lives, their Children, their Countrey, and their gods; truly I know not how my ſoule, which did che­riſh this criminall perſon ſo tenderly, can be ſo far provok'd againſt him, to deſire and endeavour to procure him puniſhment: Alas! I lov'd him with more than ordinary affection, both upon mine own and the publique account; as oft as I have ſeen my deare children playing about mee, ſo often have I bleſt, and given thankes (with teares) to that vertue by which they were9 preſerv'd; I ſaid with my ſelfe theſe hands were not free, but by thy ſtrength, and perhaps (Horatio) without thee I had never kiſs'd my Chil­dren, but in bondage in Tuſcany, I am infinitely obliged to the unlimited courage the gods have given thee; I owe all I am worth to thy good for­tune, and I found the whole ſafety of the Common-wealth hanged upon the edge of thy ſword, I have not a heart ſo inſenſible, to be ignorant of what I owe thee; theſe eies that wept for the danger thou wert in, can hardly be­hold Horatio unfortunate; this tongue accuſtomed to traverſe in the field of thy praiſes, will think it wanders aſtray when it hath loſt that way; and I believe the gods, when they ſee my prayers altred, will either believe them irreligious or feigned: what ſhall I doe then unfortunate man that I am? I whoſe duty bounds my gratitude, and my gratitude oppoſeth my du­ty? But what ſhall I ſay (O Senators) theſe are but effeminate fancies? ſhal then future ages know, that in a Roman heart any tenderneſs was ſufficient to make Fratricide ſupportable? ſhall there bee found any hearts ſo much at enmity with their Countrey, as not to fear the evils which ſuch a preſident may bring forth, if this ſhould paſſe unpuniſhed? and what fortifications can ſecure us from the violence of his ſword that hath been once victorious, if this wickedneſs ſhall eſcape like the ſword of juſtice? ought I to feare the fury of a people obliged by the fury of this guilty perſon, as if I made ſo lit­tle account of the wiſdome and juſtice of the Romans, that I did not thinke them capable of judging betwixt good and evil, and to puniſh crimes with rigour, as well as recompence generous actions with Bayes and glory? 'tis fit for the honour of the Senate to make it appear to ſuch as merit Triumphs, that they ought not to be ſo confident in the peoples favour (which is uncer­tain as the winde) as from thence to aſſume ſo much boldneſs and inſolence as to thinke by their ſwords to ſtay the courſe of juſtice: well, well! I am here to plead againſt an unfortunate wicked creature, who hath done us more diſhonour with his ſword, than we can gain advantage by his victory; and why ſhould I bee afraid to bee the Inſtrument of cutting him off from the Common-wealth, who is the firſt in it that ſtain'd it with the murther of a ſiſter? This day is no leſs ſad and unfortunate, than yeſterday was glorious, when leſſening the Tuſcane, pride advanc'd the greatneſſe of Rome; of that Rome, which being deriv'd from the gods, is oblig'd to actions ſuitable to the divinity of its original: Never was there a more horrid and exe­crable crime that came under the puniſhment of the Law, or the eies of man kinde, then is now before you; pardon me Fathers, if in this ſo venerable and ſacred place, I am forc'd to mention the name of Fratricide; let your owne inclination (O moſt juſt Iudges) provoke you to wipe off this blemiſh10 from the ſame of the Latines, and waken the ancient generoſity to vindicate the honour of juſtice which ſo much inſolency hath ſlighted, and troden un­der foot: expect not I ſhould uſe any Art to incline you to my opinion; the Age wee live in were too unfortunate, if wee ſhould need to beg the aid of Art to deſcribe a Common wealth neceſſitated, to preſerve one Citizen from another, a Brother from a Brother, and the Countrey it ſelf from thoſe that have deſerved Triumphs; and what wickedneſſe will hereafter be unattempted, if a man may be pardoned for killing his owne ſiſter? who­ſoever deſires to ſee his children ſecured from each others ſwords, who de­ſires to have the gods propitious to our innocence, and would be contented to ſee his Countrey no leſs admired for juſtice, then it is for valour, let him for ever rejoyce at this opportunity to make his owne vertue eminent, to be an honour to his Tribunall, and to juſtifie the actions of the Senate againſt the ſlander of their enemies, who accuſe them of injuſtice and coveteouſneſs, and ſay they never puniſh any perſon, though never ſo guilty, unleſs he bee poor? Shall then thoſe that love juſtice bee afraid that the ingenuous conſci­ences, and intire judgements of ſo many ſuch Senators, can bee ſo mercifull to one particular perſon, as to become cruell to the publique? to provoke you to puniſh, I will only tell you the crime; excuſe me if I plainely ſhew you one of the members of your owne famous body in the true condition wherein it now ſtands, for I am forc'd to ſhew you the malignity of the wound, which can now admit of no other cure but a ſword; I am againe prick'd to the heart to put you in minde of ſo cruell a ſpeetacle, but I know not otherwiſe to appeaſe her injur'd Ghoſt, if I doe not ſhew her with how many tears the Roman People beheld her accurſed murther, and how ſevere­ly they intend to revenge the ſame; this glorious woman-killer return'd from a field, where hee got himſelfe more ſhame by his flight, then he did his Countrey advantage by his victory; when being met by his ſiſter wee­ping (whether for joy of her Brothers triumph, or for grief of her Husbands loſſe, without any reſpect to his Father afflicted with the memory of his ſlain Sons, ſo much the more to be lamented, becauſe they died honorably,) this Tyger lifts his bloudy arm, and ſheath'd his ſword in the bowels of his ſiſter: O horrid ſpectacle! O poyſonous heart! O incomparable miſchiefe! what tears were ever more juſt then thoſe that were dropt for the death of two Brothers and a Husband? Forget ye Doves! forget your hollow groanes and ſobs, ſilence ye Turtle Doves your amorous ſighs, ſince this new Refor­mer of Nature thinks them unreaſonable: I will proceed no farther, O ye Judges, to repreſent the miſeries of this unfortunate dying woman, becauſe I would not provoke you to teares, though to ſay truth the ſubject is not at11 all too light, ſeeing it is no leſs then the death of one of our own Countrey­women: alas! poor unfortunate creature, who wert born to tears, and diedſt for weeping; hadſt thou been ſeen to loſe either thy Husband, or thy Bro­ther, thy lamentation for either would have ſeem'd a crime as to the Cauſe. Oh! the unhappy age wee live in, that wee are not allowed ſo much as to complaine: can there bee a greater occaſion to ſhed tears, then to ſee ones ſelfe reduc'd to ſuch a condition as not to dare to weep!

This Murtherer thinks perhaps to excuſe himſelfe by ſaying, he kill'd his ſiſter for grieving at the Victories of her Countrey; why he kill'd her wee know not, but we are ſure ſhe is dead; what! did the Roman Tribunall want a ſword of juſtice to cut off a corrupted member from the body of the Common-wealth? who gave thee commiſſion to imploy thine upon this occaſion? who knowes but that he kill'd his ſiſter leſt ſhe ſhould diſcover ſome cauſe for her tears in fit to be knowne? but put caſe ſhe did grieve at the proſperity of the Common-wealth; thence conſider what ſtock this man is ſprung from whoſe ſiſters lament for the proſperities of their owne native Countrey: nay, the unfortunate Wretch wept not for the loſſe of her Hus­hand nor was troubled at the triumphs of the Common-wealth, but was aſham'd at this mans glories: ſhe was not ſorry ſhe had loſt a Tuſcane Hus­band, but griev'd ſhe had a Brother that fought like an Arabian, not a Ro­man.

Well, declare nevertheleſs (if you think fit) this glorious Murtherer to be innocent, one that hath deſerved well of his Countrey, triumphant and fit to be honoured, whoſe victories are ſo generous that his owne ſiſters have been aſham'd to rejoyce at; and though he may perhaps upbraid me as en­vious of his glory, becauſe I promote the chaſtiſement of his crime, I ſhall not for all this deſiſt from my undertakings; I am ſo zealous for the honour of the Common-wealth, that I deſire as earneſtly to ſee it juſt as to reverence it triumphant: Unhappy Man! and who ſhould I envy? can I envy thee that in thy victory waſt a run-away, and in thy triumph a fratricide? but why do I name fratricide? a crime of all others the more ſhamefull, by how much it is the more unjuſt, ſo much the more ſcandalous to the Common-wealth, by how much it is the more publique; ſo much the more deteſta­ble as it hath been committed by a perſon more intereſted; and ſo much the more hatfull to the gods as it was perpetrated in a time of gratitude, and ju­ſtice.

Thinke with your ſelves, O Judges, with what inſolence hee, but now, bragg'd before you of a victory obtain'd only by the Roman fortune; and who will not confeſs that the gods will diſdaine that the Republique ſhould12 ſeem to acknowledge their power and their glory from any thing elſe but their owne benignity? ſince (to get themſelves the Palms from amongſt the vileſt perſons) they choſe the verieſt Run-away, to the end that we might acknowledge that to be the meer gift of their favour, when wee look upon the weakneſs of our owne force: you might perceive with what outragious deſires he would have outrun victory with death (as if we could not among all this warlike people) have found out one man that knew how to overcom without flying; 'tis like this earth, only made fit to bear Palms, ſhould want victories, and thoſe not fit to be bluſht at, not gotten by running away: what kind of Heavens? what gods wil this man cal to for ſuccor to his innocence? perhaps ſome that he believes not in; do you think that he believes there are any to whom he can pray to for their help in caſe of a ſiſters murther? and what obligation can you have to him for this victory in which he hath exer­cis'd his ſword, making it a Maſter in the Art of killing, to no other pur­poſe but to be able readily to imploy it againſt the bowels of his ſiſter, and of his Countrey? if we ought to be torne in pieces, and to have our throats cut here within our owne walls, in the armes of our houſhold gods? I ſhould thinke he deſerv'd rather the name of a Preſerver, of a Redeemer of his Countrey, who, reſtoring us to the ſwords of our Enemies, prevented the danger at leaſt by the hands of our owne Souldiers, by the hands of Ro­man Souldiers: and how can you ever truſt your ſelves with this man who had not beene above an houre in Tuſcany, and yet hath learnt to turne his ſword againſt us? But what! I know I wrong the Tuſcane piety in com­paring them with this Villaine, who being a Conqueror could not pardon his own ſiſter, whilſt they, being yet enemies, compaſſionating themſelves and us, ſubmitted to this generous Duell, whereby having drawne them to out obedience, they are become aſſociates of our fortunes: perhaps the tears of this poore old man his Father may move your compaſſion; why! with­out doubt he weeps rather for his ſons crime, then his danger. I confeſs I am tenderly ſenſible of the prayers of ſo juſt a man, he hath loſt his daughter, and ſo wounded by his griefe in his affection, by his ſon in his bloud, and yet pardons the offence, and makes vowes for his ſafety who hath brought to him all this deſolation; Oh too eaſie old man! and yee who can chuſe but ſympathize in thy griefe? I ſhould wonder if the gods ſhould not crown all the ſons of ſo good a Father with conſtant victory; he is one (O Fathers) that deſerves that you ſhould revenge his quarrell, though hee aske it not, though hee deſires it not at your hands: ſhall hee then who hath bloudily offended him eſcape unpuniſhed, becauſe the old man is juſt, pious, and•agnanimous? none then but Fathers that are cruell and impious ſhall have13 the injuries they receive from their children reveng'd by your juſtice: it may perchance ſerve this mans turne to allay your juſt anger, to tell you, he gain'd a glorious conqueſt for the Common-wealth, and who knowes not that he came to it by the honour of election, and when he was in, he fought for feare of death? but what do I ſay, fought? I would it had pleas'd the gods he had fought halfe ſo well, as he fled ſwiftly from it, 'twas no better Fathers, 'twas no better; I will ſtand no longer upon calling our ſhames to remembrance: if he fought he did but his duty; 'tis not to bee call'd a good deed not to be wicked; and if he overcame, 'twas for that Countrey, by which he himſelfe had been ſo often preſerv'd by ſo many victorious Ar­mies, he pretends not to thanks as for a gift, that doth but pay a debt, thoſe toiles that are undergone by the ſon for the Father, or by the Father for the ſon, are but duties, not obligations.

He hath already receiv'd as much honour and applauſe, as would make up a triumph, and is as fully rewarded as any man could pretend to merit, who had juſtly deſerv'd to be carried in a triumphant Chariot; and if his gene­rous actions have been crown'd, I know no reaſon why his crimes ſhould not be requited upon the Gallowes: to what purpoſe was it to defend the Countrey from the Enemy, which hee might depopulate when hee pleas'd with his ſword or (which is worſe) by his example? and who is ſo ſimple as to thinke 'twill bee any ſhame to us, if our Enemies ſhall reproach us, and ſay, that the Common-wealth had no ſtronger an arme to defend it, then a Murtherers? when wee ſhall bee able to re­tort, that the guiltieſt perſon we have, the verieſt run-wayes were ſuffi­cient to ſuppreſs and overcome them; they will rejoice that they are to live under the ſhaddow of ſuch a government, which will not in the leaſt meaſure pardon crimes, though in the Chariot of triumph, when victory ſhall be ſt•in'd with injuſtice, then to grieve they are fallen under ſo great ſeverity, which doth but teach them piety towards their Countrey and Kin­dred.

Hold thy prace awhile thou inſolent creature, thou that boaſts of victory, and calleſt that Countrey ungratefull to which thou art obliged for thy birth, thy food, thy education, for juſtice, yea, and thine owne honour; diſcover the ſeries of thoſe generous Acts which rendred thee a perſon worthy, of whom the Common-wealth amongſt ſo many Armies, ſo often triumphant ſhould alone make choice, and to whoſe ſword they would entruſt their E­ſtates, their Lives, their Liberties, and their Empire, and if thou canſt finde no other reaſon, but the meere favour of the Citizens of Rome, and of thine owne Countrey, with what face canſt thou call her ungratefull for a benefit14 which thou thy ſelfe haſt receiv'd, not given? we have (O Senators) actions of ingratitude, as well as the murther of a Siſter; nay, more! did you not perceive even now, how being afrighted at his crimes, which threatning puniſhments are but praeludium's to the pain of execution; did not you your ſelves perceive how invoking the Army, which hee call'd as it were newly born againe by the vertue of his ſword, hee endeavoured to ſurprize the au­thority and juſtice of the Common-wealth, by ſtirring up your Armies againſt it, inchanted by the Artifice of his ſubtile ſpeeches? did you not obſerve with what cunning he upbraided you with his Victories? ſo proud he is and ſo inſolent, that whilſt hee was begging his life of you, hee deſerved death; behold him here ungratefull to his Countrey, guilty of treaſon againſt the Common-wealth, of fratricide againſt his ſiſter: what needs any further delay, O Senators, the leaſt of his faults is the murther of a ſiſter: ſecure your ſelves and me, O Judges, I beſeech you, from the rage of this wicked wretch; doe you not ſee with what a bloudy countenance hee already de­ſignes deſtruction? look to it, that fratricide upon a ſiſter prove not patri­cide upon his Countrey: Can you believe that hee who could not pardon a ſiſter, guilty of nothing but a few Cryſtall tears, will ever forgive thoſe who have made him guilty of ſo grievous a crime, and forc'd him into ſo emi­nent danger of his life?