MARIUS. Then plac'd in consul's throne, you Roman states, [_He takes his seat_. Recall'd from banishment by your decrees, Install'd in this imperial seat to rule, Old Marius thanks his friends and favourites, From whom this final favour he requires: That, seeing Sylla by his murderous blade Brought fierce seditions first to head in Rome, And forced laws to banish innocents, I crave by course of reason and desert, That he may be proclaimed, as erst was I, A traitor and an enemy of Rome. Let all his friends be banish'd out of town; Then, cutting off the branch where troubles spring, Rome shall have peace and plenty in her walls. CINNA. In equity it needs must be, my friends, That one be guilty of our common harms: And since that Marius is accounted free, Sylla with all his friends must traitors be. YOUNG MARIUS. My father's reasons, Romans, are of force; For if you see, and live not to secure, You know that, in so great a state as this, Two mighty foes can never well agree. LEPIDUS. Then let us seek to please our consul first, And then prepare to keep the exile out. Cinna, as Marius and these lords agree, Firm this edict, and let it pass for me. CINNA. Then, Romans, in the name of all this state, I here proclaim and publish this decree; That Sylla with his friends, allies, and all, Are banish'd exiles, traitors unto Rome: And to extinguish both his name and state, We will his house be razed to the ground, His goods confiscate: this our censure is. Lictor, proclaim this in the market-place, And see it executed out of hand. [_Exit Lictor_. MARIUS. Now see I, senators, the thought, the care, The virtuous zeal that leads your toward minds To love your friends, and watch your common good: And now, establish'd consul in this place, Old Marius will foresee advenient harms. Sylla, the scourge of Asia, as we hear, Is press'd to enter Italy with sword. He comes in pomp to triumph here in Rome: But, senators, you know the wavering wills Of foolish men--I mean the common sort-- Who, through report of innovations, Of flattering humours of well-temper'd tongues, Will change, and draw a second mischief on. I like your care, and will myself apply To aim and level at my country's weal. To intercept these errors by advice, My son young Marius, Cethegus, and my friends, Shall to Praeneste, to prevent and stop The speedy purpose of our forward foe. Meanwhile, ourselves will fortify this town, This beauty of the world, this maiden-town; Where streaming Tybris, with a pleasant tide, Leads out the stately buildings of the world. Marius, my hope, my son, you know your charge: Take those Iberian legions in your train, And we will spare some Cymbrians to your use. Remember thou art Marius' son, and dream On nought but honour and a happy death!