shall repent:
Air, weeping cloudy sorrows, shall repent:
Wind, breathing many sorrows, shall repent--
To see those storms, concealed in my breast,
Reflect the hideous flames of their unrest.
But words are vain, and cannot quell our wrongs:
Brief periods serve for them that needs must post it.
Lucullus, since occasion calls me hence,
And all our Roman senate think it meet,
That thou pursue the wars I have begun,
As by their letters I am certified,
I leave thee Cymbria's legions to conduct,
With this proviso that, in ruling still,
You think on Sylla and his courtesies.

LUCULLUS. The weighty charge of this continued war,
Though strange it seem, and over-great to wield,
I will accept, if so the army please.

SOLDIERS. Happy and fortunate be Lucullus our general.

SYLLA. If he be Sylla's friend, else not at all:
For otherwise the man were ill-bested,
That gaining glories straight should lose his head.
But, soldiers, since I needly[126] must to Rome,
Basillus' virtues shall have recompense.
Lo, here the wreath, Valerius, for thy pains,
Who first didst enter Archilaus' trench:
This pledge of virtue, sirrah, shall approve
Thy virtues, and confirm me in thy love.

BASILLUS. Happy be Sylla, if no foe to Rome.

SYLLA. I like no ifs from such a simple groom.
I will be happy in despite of state.
And why? because I never feared fate.
But come, Arcathius, for your father's sake:
Enjoin your fellow-princes to their tasks,
And help to succour these my weary bones.
Tut, blush not, man, a greater state than thou
Shall pleasure Sylla in more baser sort.
Aristion is a jolly-timber'd man,
Fit to conduct the chariot of a king:
Why, be not squeamish, for it shall go hard,
But I will give you all a great reward.

ARCATHIUS. Humbled by fate, like wretched men we yield.

SYLLA. Arcathius, these are fortunes of the field.
Believe me, these brave captives draw by art,
And I will think upon their good desert.
But stay you, strangers, and respect my words.
Fond heartless men, what folly have I seen!
For fear of death can princes entertain
Such bastard thoughts, that now from glorious arms
Vouchsafe to draw like oxen in a plough?
Arcathius, I am sure Mithridates
Will hardly brook the scandal of his name:
'Twere better in Pisae[127] to have died,
Aristion, than amidst our legions thus to draw.

ARISTION. I tell thee, Sylla, captives have no choice,
And death is dreadful to a captive man.

SYLLA. In such imperfect mettles[128