there's a time for all things. I shall wait, Knowing, Virginius, that thy words are true. Wisdom, the gods be thanked, hath never flowed Forth from thy lips in words of honeyed sounds, Nor yet in pompous phrases burdened down With ponderous eloquence, but bold and frank, Shining as bright and ringing forth as true As thy good sword that thou hast borne so well In camp, palestra, or in battle-field. Virginius. My words are bold, for I am full of grief At men's delinquency and heavy souls; Frank—ay; because 'tis late to talk in riddles Or metaphors, that veil the precious truth Within; shining with fervor, ringing true, Because the cause I do uphold is true As life and death is real.  Horatius. Thine eloquence Is worthy of a better hearing than This little company. I would that thou Wouldst lead us into action, noble pleb. Virginius. My duties are at present with mine own— With her, my fair ewe-lamb; when she becomes The spouse of this our friend and our tribune, Virginius shall owe himself to none, But feel compelled the Commonwealth alone To serve. And here's my hand in oath that I[8] Shall serve it well! The gods help Appius!

[7]

Thine eloquence

[8]

[Enter Sicinius, in civilian garments.

Marius. Greetings, Sicinius, and health to thee! Sic. And Heaven's favor unto you, my friends. How now! All deep in sombre conference? Icilius (impetuously). Sicinius! What curse hath come to Rome, That bends her proud and regal head beneath The yoke of shame? The collar of the serf Hangs heavy round her haughty neck. Ye gods! The mightly Romulus, methinks, must find The grave a cell that keeps him from his Rome; How must his mighty spirit chafe when he Receiveth tidings from the newly dead, Concerning this, his city, now so low Amid the dust of Wrong and Bigotry! Tell us, thou man of action, what bold move We needs must make. Oh! be our Œdipus! Horatius. Hist, noble tribune! Favor silence. These Are times of peril; cast thou Caution's die. Icilius (amazed). What! knowest thou not this man, Sicinius? He who has bearded all the noble Ten, He whose brave words of indignation ring From hill to hill of Rome? Sicinius! Horatius (sullenly). I have been absent from the town these twelve Long moons, nor know I all that thou dost know. Icilius. Why, man, look not so sour and so sad. Virginius. Peace, youths! Sicinius hath but little chance To speak his mind. I beg of thee that thou, Good friend, expound thy views as to these days[9] Of tyranny, for Romans are at bay. Sic. If I should speak, then would I speak myself Into my 

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