Without perhaps, say, sirrah, is it so?
SLAVE. This is Lectorius, Marius' friend, I trow;
Yet were I best to learn the certainty,
Lest some dissembling foes should me descry. [_Aside_.
YOUNG MARIUS. Sirrah, leave off this foolish dalliance,
Lest with my sword I wake you from your trance.
SLAVE. O happy man, O labours well-achiev'd!
How hath this chance my weary limbs revived:
O noble Marius! O princely Marius!
YOUNG MARIUS. What means this peasant by his great rejoice?
SLAVE. O worthy Roman, many months have past
Since Cinna, now the consul and my lord,
Hath sent me forth to seek thy friends and thee.
All Lybia, with our Roman presidents,
Numidia, full of unfrequented ways,
These weary limbs have trod to seek you out,
And now, occasion pitying of my pains,
I late arriv'd upon this wished shore,
Found out a sailor born in Capua,
That told me how your lordship pass'd this way.
YOUNG MARIUS. A happy labour, worthy some reward.
How fares thy master? What's the news at Rome?
SLAVE. Pull out the pike from off this javelin-top,
And there are tidings for these lords and thee.
YOUNG MARIUS. A policy beseeming Cinna well:
Lectorius, read, and break these letters up.[118]
LETTER.
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