hail'd of yore, Those giant sons that Shakspeare's banners bore, Yet may we yield this little offspring grace, And love the last and least of such a race. Shall the strong scenes, where senatorial Rome, Mourn'd o'er the rigour of her patriot's doom; Where melting Nature aw'd by Virtue's eye, Hid the big drop, and held the bursting sigh; Where all that majesty of soul can give, Truth, Honour, Pity, fair Affection live; Shall scenes like these, the glory of an age, Gleam from the press, nor triumph on the stage? Forbid it, Britons! and, as Romans brave, Like Romans boast one citizen to save.

Regulus

Publius

Manlius

Licinius

Hamilcar

Attilia

Barce

Scene

THE INFLEXIBLE CAPTIVE.

ACT I.

Scene—A Hall in the Consul's Palace. Enter Licinius, Attilia, Lictors and People.

Scene

Licinius, Attilia

Lic. Attilia waiting here? Is't possible? Is this a place for Regulus's daughter? Just gods! must that incomparable maid Associate here with Lictors and Plebeians?

At. Yes, on this threshold patiently I wait The Consul's coming; I would make him blush To see me here his suitor. O Licinius, This is no time for form and cold decorum; Five lagging years have crept their tedious round, And Regulus, alas! is still a slave, A wretched slave, unpitied, and forgotten; No other tribute paid his memory, Than the sad tears of his unhappy 

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