Reg. Let Rome remember Regulus must die! Nor would the moment of my death be distant, If nature's work had been reserv'd for nature: What Carthage means to do, she would have done As speedily, perhaps, at least as surely. My wearied life has almost reach'd its goal; The once-warm current stagnates in these veins, Or through its icy channels slowly creeps—— View the weak arm; mark the pale furrow'd cheek, The slacken'd sinew, and the dim sunk eye, And tell me then I must not think of dying! How can I serve you else? My feeble limbs Would totter now beneath the armour's weight, The burden of that body it once shielded. You see, my friends, you see, my countrymen, I can no longer show myself a Roman, Except by dying like one.——Gracious Heaven Points out a way to crown my days with glory; Oh, do not frustrate, then, the will of Jove, And close a life of virtue with disgrace! Come, come, I know my noble Romans better; I see your souls, I read repentance in them; You all applaud me—nay, you wish my chains: 'Twas nothing but excess of love misled you, And as you're Romans you will conquer that. Yes!—I perceive your weakness is subdu'd— Seize, seize the moment of returning virtue; Throw to the ground, my sons, those hostile arms; Retard no longer Regulus's triumph; I do request it of you, as a friend, I call you to your duty, as a patriot, And—were I still your gen'ral, I'd command you. —— —— Lic. Lay down your arms—let Regulus depart. Reg. Gods! gods! I thank you—you indeed are righteous. Pub. See every man disarm'd. Oh, Rome! oh, father! At. Hold, hold my heart. Alas! they all obey. Reg. The way is clear. Hamilcar, I attend thee. Ham. Why, I begin to envy this old man! [Aside. [Aside. Man. Not the proud victor on the day of triumph, Warm from the slaughter of dispeopled realms, Though conquer'd princes grace his chariot wheels, Though tributary monarchs wait his nod, And vanquish'd nations bend the knee before him, E'er shone with half the lustre that surrounds This voluntary sacrifice for
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