SYLLA. You men of Rome, my fellow-mates in arms, Whose three years' prowess, policy, and war, One hundred threescore thousand men at arms Hath overthrown and murder'd in the field; Whose valours to the empire have restor'd All Grecia, Asia, and Ionia, With Macedonia, subject to our foe, You see the froward customs of our state Who, measuring not our many toils abroad, Sit in their cells, imagining our harms: Replenishing our Roman friends with fear. Yea, Sylla, worthy friends, whose fortunes, toils, And stratagems these strangers may report, Is by false Cinna and his factious friends Revil'd, condemn'd, and cross'd without a cause: Yea, Romans, Marius must return to Rome, Of purpose to upbraid your general. But this undaunted mind that never droop'd; This forward body, form'd to suffer toil, Shall haste to Rome, where every foe shall rue The rash disgrace both of myself and you. LUCRETIUS. And may it be that those seditious brains Imagine these presumptuous purposes? SYLLA. And may it be? Why, man, and wilt thou doubt, Where Sylla deigns these dangers to aver? Sirrah, except not so, misdoubt not so: See here Aneparius' letters, read the lines, And say, Lucretius, that I favour thee, That darest but suspect thy general. [_Read the letters and deliver them_. LUCRETIUS. The case conceal'd hath mov'd the more misdoubt; Yet pardon my presumptions, worthy Sylla, That to my grief have read these hideous harms. SYLLA. Tut, my Lucretius, fortune's ball is toss'd To form the story of my fatal power: Rome shall repent; babe, mother, shall repent: Air, weeping cloudy sorrows, shall repent: Wind, breathing many sorrows, shall repent-- To see those storms, concealed in my breast, Reflect the hideous flames of their unrest. But words are vain, and cannot quell our wrongs: Brief periods serve for them that needs must post it. Lucullus, since occasion calls me hence, And all our Roman senate think it meet, That thou pursue the wars I have begun, As by their letters I am certified, I leave thee Cymbria's legions to conduct, With this proviso that, in ruling still, You think on Sylla and his courtesies. LUCULLUS. The weighty charge of this continued war, Though strange it seem, and over-great to wield, I will accept, if so the army please. SOLDIERS. Happy and fortunate be Lucullus our general. SYLLA. If he be Sylla's friend, else not at all: For otherwise the man were ill-bested, That gaining glories straight should lose his head. But, soldiers, since I needly[126] must to Rome, Basillus' virtues shall have recompense. Lo, here the wreath, Valerius, for thy pains, Who first didst enter Archilaus' trench: This pledge of virtue, sirrah, shall approve Thy virtues, and confirm me in thy love. BASILLUS. Happy be Sylla, if no foe to Rome.