LEPIDUS. And long live Marius[135] with fame in Rome.
MARIUS. I thank you, courteous lords, that are so kind.
YOUNG MARIUS. But why endures your grace that braving mate, To sit and face us in his robes of state?
MARIUS. My son, he is a consul at the least, And gravity becomes Octavius best, But, Cinna, would in yonder empty seat You would for Marius' freedom once entreat.
_CINNA presseth up, and OCTAVIUS stayeth him_.
OCTAVIUS. Avaunt, thou traitor, proud and insolent! How dar'st thou press near civil government.
MARIUS. Why, Master Consul, are you grown so hot? I'll have a present cooling card for you. Be therefore well advis'd, and move me not: For though by you I was exil'd from Rome, And in the desert from a prince's seat Left to bewail ingratitudes of Rome; Though I have known your thirsty throats have long'd To bathe themselves in my distilling blood, Yet Marius, sirs, hath pity join'd with power. Lo, here the imperial ensign which I wield, That waveth mercy to my wishers-well: And more: see here the dangerous trote of war, That at the point is steel'd with ghastly death.
OCTAVIUS. Thou exile, threaten'st thou a consul then? Lictors, go draw him hence! such braving mates Are not to boast their arms in quiet states.
MARIUS. Go draw me hence! What! no relent, Octavius?
YOUNG MARIUS. My lord, what heart indurate with revenge Could leave this lozel[136], threat'ning murder thus? Vouchsafe me leave to taint that traitor seat With flowing streams of his contagious blood.
OCTAVIUS. The father's son, I know him by his talk, That scolds in words, when fingers cannot walk. But Jove, I hope, will one day send to Rome The blessed patron of this monarchy, Who will revenge injustice by his sword.
CINNA. Such braving hopes, such cursed arguments: So strict command, such arrogant controls! Suffer me, Marius, that am consul now, To do thee justice, and confound the wretch.
MARIUS. Cinna, you know I am a private man, That still submit my censures to your will.
CINNA. Then, soldiers, draw this traitor from the throne, And let him die, for Cinna wills it so.
YOUNG MARIUS. Ay, now, my Cinna, noble consul, speaks. Octavius, your checks shall cost you dear.
OCTAVIUS. And let me die, for Cinna wills it so! Is then the reverence of this robe contemn'd? Are these associates of so small regard? Why then, Octavius willingly consents To entertain the sentence of his death. But let the proudest traitor work his will; I fear no strokes, but here will sit me still. Since justice sleeps, since tyrants reign in Rome, Octavius longs for death to die in Rome.