ius scorning to imitate
the vacillation and cowardice of his colleagues; Sylla plunging back
alone into battle, that his example may reanimate the courage of his
fleeing army: these are scenes that recall the best traditions of Rome.
They are taken from Plutarch, it is true; but they are presented
sympathetically and with stimulating effect. Thus, though the order of
events has necessarily to be mainly historical, each is intimately
related to the central clash of ambitions, with the result that
singleness of interest is never lost until the death of Marius. In
carrying history down to Sylla's abdication and death, the author
betrays that ignorance of dramatic unity common to most of his
contemporaries.

The play is divided into five acts, but though there are obviously more
than that number of scenes, the subdivisions are not formally
distinguished. By the stiff, rhetorical style of its verse we seem to be
taken back to the days of _Gorboduc_ rather than to the year of
Marlowe's _Edward the Second_. Save in two quite uncalled-for humorous
episodes, the language used maintains a monotonous level of stateliness
or emotion. The plot is eminently suited for indignant and defiant
speeches, but Lodge's poetic inspiration has not the wings to bear him
much above the 'middle flight'. The following passage fairly illustrates
his style.

[CORNELIA _and_ FULVIA, _expecting close imprisonment, if not
death, are set at liberty._]

_Marius._ Virtue, sweet ladies, is of more regard
In Marius' mind, where honour is enthron'd,
Than Rome or rule of Roman empery.

[_Here he puts chains about their necks._]

The bands, that should combine your snow-white wrists,
Are these which shall adorn your milk-white necks.
The private cells, where you shall end your lives,
Is Italy, is Europe--nay, the world.
Th' Euxinian Sea, the fierce Sicilian Gulf,
The river Ganges and Hydaspes' stream
Shall level lie, and smooth as crystal ice,
While Fulvia and Cornelia pass thereon.
The soldiers, that should guard you to your deaths,
Shall be five thousand gallant youths of Rome,
In purple robes cross-barr'd with pales of gold,
Mounted on warlike coursers for the field,
Fet[63] from the mountain-tops of Corsica,
Or bred in hills of bright Sardinia,
Who shall conduct and bring you to your lord.
Ay, unto Sylla, ladies, shall you go,
And