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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required ACT I: The Rebuke of Corruption MARCUS LUCILIUS: O Varro, Consul crowned with fleeting fame, The murm’ring crowd doth mark thee with disdain. Dost thou not feel the burden of their gaze? CONSUL VARRO: Lucilius, thou art ever grave and stern. Let whispers rise; I heed them not a whit. For power dwells in hands that dare to clutch. MARCUS LUCILIUS: Yet hands that clutch oft grasp but empty air. Thou barters reverence for servile dread, And honor for the glitt’ring dross of gold. What gain hast thou in riches bought with shame? CONSUL VARRO: Gain? Aye, the means to live, to rule, to last. The state’s a mantle worn by those who dare. MARCUS LUCILIUS: A mantle, say’st thou? Then is Rome a cloak, Her laws mere threads, her virtue but a seam. The wise man scorns such trappings of deceit, And serves the commonwealth with upright soul. CONSUL VARRO: Thy Stoic lore is fit for cloistered halls, Not for the Senate’s strife or Mars’s field. The world is won by those who dare to strive, Not those who muse on virtue’s idle dreams. MARCUS LUCILIUS: Yet virtue, like the stars, doth never fade. Thy house is built upon the shifting sands; When Fortune turns—as turn she ever must— What then remains to shield thee from her wrath? CONSUL VARRO: My name shall echo through the halls of time. MARCUS LUCILIUS: Infamy echoes too, and louder still. But fleeting praise is not the crown of worth. Wouldst thou be lauded by the base today, Or honored by the wise in ages hence? CONSUL VARRO: The victors pen the annals of the world. MARCUS LUCILIUS: Nay, Truth alone doth hold the final quill. And Virtue, deathless, scorns the grave’s decay.
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