_Reg._ What I have sworn I will fulfil, Hamilcar. Be satisfied. _Pub._ Ye guardian gods of Rome, With your own eloquence inspire him now! _Reg._ Carthage by me this embassy has sent: If Rome will leave her undisturb'd possession Of all she now enjoys, she offers _peace_; But if you rather wish protracted war, Her next proposal is, _exchange of captives_;---- If you demand advice of _Regulus_, Reject them both! _Ham._ What dost thou mean? _Pub._ My father! _Man._ Exalted fortitude! I'm lost in wonder. [_Aside._ _Reg._ Romans! I will not idly spend my breath, To show the dire effects of such a peace; The foes who beg it, show their dread of war. _Man._ But the exchange of prisoners thou proposest? _Reg._ That artful scheme conceals some Punic fraud. _Ham._ Roman, beware! hast thou so soon forgotten; _Reg._ I will fulfil the treaty I have sworn to. _Pub._ All will be ruin'd. _Reg._ Conscript Fathers! hear me.---- Though this exchange teems with a thousand ills, Yet 'tis th' example I would deprecate. This treaty fix'd, Rome's honour is no more. Should her degenerate sons be promis'd life, Dishonest life, and worthless liberty, Her glory, valour, military pride, Her fame, her fortitude, her all were lost. What honest captive of them all would wish With shame to enter her imperial gates, The flagrant scourge of slavery on his back? None, none, my friends, would wish a fate so vile, But those base cowards who resign'd their arms Unstain'd with hostile blood, and poorly sued, Through ignominious fear of death, for bondage; The scorn, the laughter, of th' insulting foe. O shame! shame! shame! eternal infamy! _Man._ However hurtful this _exchange_ may be, The liberty, the life of Regulus, More than compensates for it. _Reg._ Thou art mistaken.---- This Regulus is a mere mortal man, Yielding apace to all th' infirmities Of weak, decaying nature.----I am old, Nor can my future, feeble services Assist my country much; but mark me well: The young fierce heroes you'd restore to Carthage, In lieu of this old man, are her chief bulwarks. Fathers! in vig'rous youth this well-strung arm Fought for my country, fought and conquer'd for her: That was the time to prize its service high. Now, weak and nerveless, let the foe possess it, For it can harm them in the field no more. Let Carthage have the poor degrading triumph To close these failing eyes;--but, O my countrymen! Check their vain hopes, and show aspiring Afric That heroes are the common growth of Rome. _Man._ Unequall'd fortitude. _Pub._ O fatal virtue! _Ham._ What do I hear? this constancy confounds me. _Man._ (_to the Senators._) Let honour be the spring of all our actions, Not interest, Fathers. Let no selfish views Preach safety at the price of truth and justice.