speak, and be as brief As the occasion will allow. Proceed. Virginius. Ye men of Rome! To you, and you alone, I speak in my defense, for lo! in you I see the qualities of common justice,[54] Or faintest sense of mercy, which is rare— And less, indeed, unto the point in hand. For all these forty years I've lived in Rome, A Roman 'mongst the Romans, brave amongst The brave, and serving, ere I came of age, My mother city. Have I shown myself In any manner base, corruptible, Or lying, either by my word or deed? Ye all are witnesses of me—each man Can see and know the truth as God can see. This is my babe, of me begotten, born Of her whom I so loved—her mother. Lo! The very luster of her ebon hair Bespeaks the woman who in honor bore Virginia. See! The tremble of her lip. I do not willingly display my flesh And blood to gaze of multitudes, but that My straits are desperate. Look upon her hand— The long, brown fingers are a copy true Of these, though mine are knotted by the grip Of sword and the guiding of the plow. And now her eyes—Ah, no! I say too much. Ye gods of Heaven speak for me this day! [54] [He bows his head upon Virginia's shoulder. Appius. He faints with sudden revelation from The gods of what is manifestly true. Virginius, thou art deluded, or A man, of old, deceptive. Virginia. 'Tis a lie! He is Virginius, no more, no less! And 'tis enough, as Rome can witness to. Thou art not worthy to crawl on the ground And kiss the hand which hath these many years Battled for Rome! Thou canst but harm our flesh.[55] His name and mine are unstained as the flame On Vesta's altar. [55] [Turns to where Icilius is struggling vainly in the hands of the guard. Peace, Icilius! Of what avail is aught to such as these? Small hope is left—and yet, O, Appius, Wert thou not born of woman? For the one Who gave thee life, respect her sisters now. Let mercy dawn within thy hardened breast, Speak but one word—one word—and many lives Will leap and live again. Look down upon And honor this grey head, now bowed so low; The only stay and comfort in his age Wouldst tear from him? His years in solitude Will roll away, a never-ending tide. Ye Romans, look upon your citizens, Protect your women—lest indignant Jove Lightnings shall send upon you, or the shield Of Mars be taken from its sanctuary. Peace, Icilius! [Icilius at this moment breaks from the grasp of the soldiers and leaps to Virginia's
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