_At._ Then, ere ye go, in pity Explain the latent purpose of your souls. _Lic._ Soon shalt thou know it all--Farewell! farewell! Let us keep Regulus in _Rome_, or _die_. [_To_ HAMILCAR _as he goes out_. _Ham._ Yes.--These smooth, polish'd Romans shall confess The soil of _Afric_, too, produces heroes. What, though our pride, perhaps, be less than theirs, Our virtue may be equal: they shall own The path of honour's not unknown to Carthage, Nor, as they arrogantly think, confin'd To their proud Capitol:----Yes--they shall learn The gods look down on other climes than theirs. [_Exit._ _At._ What gone, _both_ gone? What can I think or do? Licinius leaves me, led by love and virtue, To rouse the citizens to war and tumult, Which may be fatal to himself and Rome, And yet, alas! not serve my dearest father. Protecting deities! preserve them both! _Barce._ Nor is thy Barce more at ease, my friend; I dread the fierceness of Hamilcar's courage: Rous'd by the grandeur of thy brother's deed, And stung by his reproaches, his great soul Will scorn to be outdone by him in glory. Yet, let us rise to courage and to life, Forget the weakness of our helpless sex, And mount above these coward woman's fears. Hope dawns upon my mind--my prospect clears, And every cloud now brightens into day. _At._ How different are our souls! Thy sanguine temper, Flush'd with the native vigour of thy soil, Supports thy spirits; while the sad Attilia, Sinking with more than all her sex's fears, Sees not a beam of hope; or, if she sees it, 'Tis not the bright, warm splendour of the sun; It is a sickly and uncertain glimmer Of instantaneous lightning passing by. It shows, but not diminishes, the danger, And leaves my poor benighted soul as dark As it had never shone. _Barce._ Come, let us go. Yes, joys unlook'd-for now shall gild thy days, And brighter suns reflect propitious rays. [_Exeunt._ SCENE--_A Hall looking towards the Garden._ _Enter_ REGULUS, _speaking to one of_ HAMILCAR'S _Attendants_. Where's your Ambassador? where is Hamilcar? Ere this he doubtless knows the Senate's will. Go, seek him out--Tell him we must depart---- Rome has no hope for him, or wish for me. Longer delay were criminal in _both_. _Enter_ MANLIUS. _Reg._ He comes. The Consul comes! my noble friend! O let me strain thee to this grateful heart, And thank thee for the vast, vast debt I owe thee! But for _thy_ friendship I had been a wretch---- Had been compell'd to shameful _liberty_. To thee I owe the glory of these chains, My faith inviolate, my fame preserv'd, My honour, virtue, glory, bondage,--all! _Man._ But we shall lose thee, so it is decreed---- Thou must depart? _Reg._ Because I must depart You will not lose me; I were lost, indeed, Did I remain in Rome.