_At._ (_alone_.) O Fortune, Fortune, thou capricious goddess! Thy frowns and favours have alike no bounds: Unjust, or prodigal in each extreme. When thou wouldst humble human vanity, By singling out a wretch to bear thy wrath, Thou crushest him with anguish to excess: If thou wouldst bless, thou mak'st the happiness Too poignant for his giddy sense to bear.---- Immortal gods, who rule the fates of men, Preserve my father! bless him, bless him, heav'n! If your avenging thunderbolts _must_ fall, Strike _here_--this bosom will invite the blow, And _thank_ you for it: but in mercy spare, Oh! spare _his_ sacred, venerable head: Respect in _him_ an image of yourselves; And leave a world, who wants it, an example Of courage, wisdom, constancy and truth. Yet if, Eternal Powers who rule this ball! You have decreed that Regulus must fall; Teach me to yield to your divine command, And meekly bow to your correcting hand; Contented to resign, or pleas'd receive, What wisdom may withhold, or mercy give. [_Exit_ ATTILIA. ACT IV. SCENE--_A Gallery in the Ambassador's Palace._ _Reg._ (_alone._) Be calm, my soul! what strange emotions shake thee? Emotions thou hast never felt till now. Thou hast defied the dangers of the deep, Th' impetuous hurricane, the thunder's roar, And all the terrors of the various war; Yet, now thou tremblest, now thou stand'st dismay'd, With fearful expectation of thy fate.---- Yes--thou hast amplest reason for thy fears; For till this hour, so pregnant with events, Thy fame and glory never were at stake. Soft--let me think--what is this thing call'd _glory_? 'Tis the soul's tyrant, that should be dethron'd, And learn subjection like her other passions! Ah! no! 'tis false: this is the coward's plea; The lazy language of refining vice. That man was born in vain, whose wish to serve Is circumscrib'd within the wretched bounds Of _self_--a narrow, miserable sphere! Glory exalts, enlarges, dignifies, Absorbs the selfish in the social claims, And renders man a blessing to mankind.-- It is this principle, this spark of deity, Rescues debas'd humanity from guilt, And elevates it by her strong excitements:-- It takes off sensibility from pain, From peril fear, plucks out the sting from death, Changes ferocious into gentle manners, And teaches men to imitate the gods. It shows----but see, alas! where Publius comes. Ah! he advances with a down-cast eye, And step irresolute---- _Enter_ PUBLIUS. _Reg._ My Publius, welcome! What tidings dost thou bring? what says the Senate? Is yet my fate determin'd? quickly tell me.-- _Pub._ I cannot speak, and yet, alas! I must. _Reg._ Tell me the whole.-- _Pub._ Would I were rather dumb! _Reg._ Publius, no more delay:--I charge thee speak. _Pub._ The Senate has decreed thou shalt depart.