Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/143

Rh

''1st. Off.'' Indeed, my Lord, he speaks in sober earnest. Some secret enemies have been employ'd To fill your troops with strange imaginations; As tho' their gen'ral would, for selfish gain, Their gen'rous valour urge to desp'rate deeds. All to a man, assembled on the ramparts, Now threaten vengeance, and refuse to march.

Bas. What! think they vilely of me? threaten, too! O! most ungen'rous, most unmanly thought! Didst thou attempt (to Ros.) to reason with their folly? Folly it is; baseness it cannot be!

Ros. Yes, truly, did I reason's pow'r essay, But as well might I reason with the storm, And bid it cease to rage Their eyes look fire on him who questions them; The hollow murmurs of their mutter'd wrath Sound dreadful thro' the dark extended ranks, Like subterraneous grumblings of an earthquake. The vengeful hurricane Does not with such fantastick writhings toss The woods green boughs, as does convulsive rage Their forms with frantick gesture agitate. Around the chief of hell such legions throng'd, To bring back curse and discord on creation.

Bas. Nay, they are men, altho' impassion'd ones. I'll go to them—

Ros.And we will stand by thee.