_Reg._ Publius, no more; begone-- Attend the Senate--let me know my fate; 'Twill be more glorious if announc'd by thee. _Pub._ Too much, too much thy rigid virtue claims From thy unhappy son. Oh, nature, nature! _Reg._ Publius! am I a stranger, or thy father? In either case an obvious duty waits thee: If thou regard'st me as an alien here, Learn to prefer to mine the good of Rome; If as a father--reverence my commands. _Pub._ Ah! couldst thou look into my inmost soul, And see how warm it burns with love and duty, Thou would'st abate the rigour of thy words. _Reg._ Could I explore the secrets of thy breast, The virtue I would wish should flourish there Were fortitude, not weak, complaining love. _Pub._ If thou requir'st my _blood_, I'll shed it all; But when thou dost enjoin the harsher task That I should labour to procure thy death, Forgive thy son--he has not so much virtue. [_Exit_ PUBLIUS. _Reg._ Th' important hour draws on, and now my soul Loses her wonted calmness, lest the Senate Should doubt what answer to return to Carthage. O ye protecting deities of Rome! Ye guardian gods! look down propitious on her, Inspire her Senate with your sacred wisdom, And call up all that's Roman in their souls! _Enter_ MANLIUS (_speaking_). See that the lictors wait, and guard the entrance-- Take care that none intrude. _Reg._ Ah! Manlius here? What can this mean? _Man._ Where, where is Regulus? The great, the godlike, the invincible? Oh, let me strain the hero to my breast.-- _Reg._ (_avoiding him._) Manlius, stand off, remember I'm a slave! And thou Rome's Consul. _Man._ I am something more: I am a man enamour'd of thy virtues; Thy fortitude and courage have subdued me. I _was_ thy _rival_--I am _now_ thy _friend_; Allow me that distinction, dearer far Than all the honours Rome can give without it. _Reg._ This is the temper still of noble minds, And these the blessings of an humble fortune. Had I not been a _slave_, I ne'er had gain'd The treasure of thy friendship. _Man._ I confess, Thy grandeur cast a veil before my eyes, Which thy reverse of fortune has remov'd. Oft have I seen thee on the day of triumph, A conqueror of nations, enter Rome; Now, thou hast conquer'd fortune, and thyself. Thy laurels oft have mov'd my soul to envy, Thy chains awaken my respect, my reverence; Then Regulus appear'd a hero to me, He rises now a god. _Reg._ Manlius, enough. Cease thy applause; 'tis dang'rous; praise like thine Might tempt the most severe and cautious virtue. Bless'd be the gods, who gild my latter days With the bright glory of the Consul's friendship!