Chapter XXIX: Act THE FIFTH

SCENE I.--_A Room in the House of_ Collatine.

_A table and a chair covered with black. Enter_ Lucrece _and her_ Maid.

Lucrece.
Mirable.

Maid.
Madam.

Lucrece.
Is not my father, old Lucretius, come yet?

Maid.
Not yet.

Lucrece.
Nor any from the camp?

Maid.
Neither, madam.

Lucrece.
Go, begone,
And leave me to the truest grief of heart
That ever entered any matron’s breast:
Oh!

Maid.
Why weep you, lady? alas! why do you stain
Your modest cheeks with these offensive tears?

Lucrece.
Nothing, nay, nothing. O you powerful gods,
That should have angels guardants on your throne,
To protect innocence and chastity! oh, why
Suffer you such inhuman massacre
On harmless virtue? wherefore take you charge
On sinless souls, to see them wounded thus
With rape or violence? or give white innocence
Armour of proof ’gainst sin, or by oppression
Kill virtue quite, and guerdon base transgression.
Is it my fate above all other women,
Or is my sin more heinous than the rest,
That amongst thousands, millions, infinites,
I, only I, should to this shame be born,
To be a stain to women, nature’s scorn?
Oh!

Maid.
What ails you, madam? truth, you make me weep
To see you shed salt tears: what hath oppressed you?
Why is your chamber hung with mourning black,
Your habit sable, and your eyes thus swollen
With ominous tears? Alas! what troubles you?

Lucrece.
I am not sad; thou didst deceive thyself;
I did not weep, there’s nothing troubles me;
But wherefore dost thou blush?

Maid.
Madam, not I.

Lucrece.
Indeed thou didst,
And in that blush my guilt thou didst betray.
How cam’st thou by the notice of my sin?

Maid.
What sin?

Lucrece.
My blot, my scandal, and my shame.
O Tarquin, thou my honour didst betray;
Disgrace no time, no age can wipe away!
Oh!

Maid.
Sweet lady, cheer yourself; I’ll fetch my viol,
And see if I can sing you fast asleep;
A little rest would wear away this passion.

Lucrece.
Do what thou wilt, I can command no more.
Being no more a woman, I am now
Devote to death, and an inhabitant
Of the other world: these eyes must ever weep
Till fate hath closed them with eternal sleep.

_Enter_ Brutus, Collatinus, Horatius, Scevola, _and_
Valerius _on one side_, Lucretius _on the other_.

Lucretius.
Brutus!

Brutus.
Lucretius!

Lucrece.
Father!

Collatine.
Lucrece!

Lucrece.
Collatine!

Brutus.
How cheer you, madam? how is’t with you, cousin?
Why is your eye deject and drowned in sorrow?
Why is this funeral black, and ornaments
Of widowhood? resolve me, cousin Lucrece.

Horatius.
How fare you, lady?

Lucretius.
What’s the matter, girl?

Collatine.
Why, how is’t with you, Lucrece? tell me, sweet,
Why dost thou hide thy face, and with thy hand
Darken those eyes that were my suns of joy,
To make my pleasures flourish in the spring?

Lucrece.
O me!

Valerius.
Whence are these sighs and tears?

Scevola.
How grows this passion?

Brutus.
Speak, lady; you are hemmed in with your friends.
Girt in a pale of safety, and environed
And circled in a fortress of your kindred.
Let not those drops fall fruitless to the ground,
Nor let your sighs add to the senseless wind.
Speak, who hath wronged you?

Lucrece.
Ere I speak my woe,
Swear you’ll revenge poor Lucrece on her foe.

Brutus.
Be his head arched with gold.

Horatius.
Be his hand armed
With an imperial sceptre.

Lucretius.
Be he great
As Tarquin, throned in an imperial seat.

Brutus.
Be he no more than mortal, he shall feel
The vengeful edge of this victorious steel.

Lucrece.
Then seat you, lords, whilst I express my wrong.
Father, dear husband, and my kinsmen lords,
Hear me; I am dishonoured and disgraced,
My reputation mangled, my renown
Disparaged,--but my body, oh, my body!

Collatine.
What, Lucrece?

Lucrece.
Stained, polluted, and defiled.
Strange steps are found in my adulterate bed,
And, though my thoughts be white as innocence,
Yet is my body soiled with lust-burnt sin,
And by a stranger I am strumpeted,
Ravished, enforced, and am no more to rank
Among the Roman matrons.

Brutus.
Yet cheer you, lady, and restrain these tears.
If you were forced the sin concerns not you;
A woman’s born but with a woman’s strength.
Who was the ravisher?

Horatius.
Ay, name him, lady:
Our love to you shall only thus appear,
In the revenge that we will take on him.

Lucrece.
I hope so, lords. ’Twas Sextus, the king’s son.

All.
How! Sextus Tarquin!

Lucrece.
That unprincely prince,
Who guest-wise entered with my husband’s ring.
This ring, O Collatine! this ring you sent
Is cause of all my woe, your discontent.
I feasted him, then lodged him, and bestowed
My choicest welcome; but in dead of night
My traitorous guest came armed unto my bed,
Frighted my silent sleep, threatened, and prayed
For entertainment: I despisèd both.
Which hearing, his sharp-pointed scimitar
The tyrant bent against my naked breast.
Alas! I begged my death; but note his tyranny:
He brought with him a torment worse than death,
For, having murdered me, he swore to kill
One of my basest grooms, and lodge him dead
In my dead arms, then call in testimony
Of my adultery, to make me hated,
Even in my death, of husband, father, friends,
Of Rome, and all the world. This, this, O princes,
Ravished and killed me at once.

Collatine.
Yet comfort, lady;
I quit thy guilt, for what could Lucrece do
More than a woman? hadst thou died polluted
By this base scandal, thou hadst wronged thy fame:
And hindered us of a most just revenge.

All.
What shall we do, lords?

Brutus.
Lay your resolute hands
Upon the sword of Brutus; vow and swear,
As you hope meed for merit from the gods,
Or fear reward for sin from devils below,
As you are Romans, and esteem your fame
More than your lives, all humorous toys set off,
Of madding, singing, smiling, and what else,
Revive your native valours, be yourselves,
And join with Brutus in the just revenge
Of this chaste ravished lady;--swear!

All.
We do.

Lucrece.
Then with your humours here my grief ends too:
My stain I thus wipe off, call in my sighs,
And in the hope of this revenge, forbear
Even to my death to fall[5.64] one passionate tear;
Yet, lords, that you may crown my innocence
With your best thoughts, that you may henceforth know
We are the same in heart we seem in show,
And though I quit my soul of all such sin, [_The_ Lords _whisper_.
I’ll not debar my body punishment.
Let all the world learn of a Roman dame,
To prize her life less than her honoured fame. [_Stabs herself_.

Lucretius.
Lucrece!

Collatine.
Wife!

Brutus.
Lady!

Scevola.
She hath slain herself.

Valerius.
Oh, see yet, lords, if there be hope of life.

Brutus.
She’s dead: then turn your funeral tears to fire
And indignation; let us now redeem
Our misspent time, and overtake our sloth
With hostile expedition. This, great lords,
This bloody knife, on which her chaste blood flowed,
Shall not from Brutus till some strange revenge
Fall on the heads of Tarquins.

Horatius.
Now’s the time
To call their pride to count. Brutus, lead on;
We’ll follow thee to their confusion.

Valerius.
By Jove, we will! the sprightful youth of Rome,
Tricked up in plumèd harness, shall attend
The march of Brutus, whom we here create
Our general against the Tarquins.

Scevola.
Be it so.

Brutus.
We embrace it. Now, to stir the wrath of Rome,
You, Collatine and good Lucretius,
With eyes yet drowned in tears, bear that chaste body
Into the market-place; that horrid object
Shall kindle them with a most just revenge.

Horatius.
To see the father and the husband mourn
O’er this chaste dame, that have so well deserved
Of Rome and them; then to infer the pride,
The wrongs and the perpetual tyranny
Of all the Tarquins, Servius Tullius’ death,
And his unnatural usage by that monster
Tullia, the queen; all these shall well concur
In a combined revenge.

Brutus.
Lucrece, thy death we’ll mourn in glittering arms
And plumèd casques. Some bear that reverend load
Unto the Forum, where our force shall meet
To set upon the palace, and expel
This viperous brood from Rome: I know the people
Will gladly embrace our fortunes. Scevola,
Go you and muster powers in Brutus’ name.
Valerius, you assist him instantly,
And to the ’mazèd people speak
The cause of this concourse.

Valerius.
We go.

[_Exeunt_ Valerius _and_ Scevola.

Brutus.
And you, dear lords, whose speechless grief is boundless,
Turn all your tears, with ours, to wrath and rage.
The hearts of all the Tarquins shall weep blood
Upon the funeral hearse, with whose chaste body
Honour your arms, and to the assembled people
Disclose her innocent wounds. Gramercies, lords!
[_A great shout and a flourish with drums and trumpets within_.]
That universal shout tells me their words
Are gracious with the people, and their troops
Are ready embattled, and expect but us
To lead them on. Jove give our fortunes speed!
We’ll murder murder, and base rape shall bleed.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II.--_The Outskirts of Rome_.

_Alarum. Enter_ Tarquin _and_ Tullia _flying, pursued by_ Brutus _and the_ Romans _with drums and colours_. Porsenna, Aruns _and_ Sextus _meet and join with_ Tarquin _and_ Tullia. Brutus _and the_ Romans _advance; they make a stand_.

Brutus.
Even thus far, tyrant, have we dogged thy steps,
Frighting thy queen and thee with horrid steel.

Tarquin.
Lodged in the safety of Porsenna’s arms,
Now, traitor Brutus, we dare front thy pride.

Horatius.
Porsenna, thou’rt unworthy of a sceptre,
To shelter pride, lust, rape, and tyranny,
In that proud prince and his confederate peers.

Sextus.
Traitors to Heaven, to Tarquin, Rome and us!
Treason to kings doth stretch even to the gods,
And those high gods that take great Rome in charge
Shall punish your rebellion.

Collatine.
O devil Sextus, speak not thou of gods,
Nor cast those false and feignèd eyes to Heaven,
Whose rape the furies must torment in hell
Of Lucrece--Lucrece!

Scevola.
Her chaste blood still cries
For vengeance to the ethereal deities.

Lucretius.
Oh, ’twas a foul deed, Sextus!

Valerius.
And thy shame
Shall be eternal and outlive her fame.

Aruns.
Say Sextus loved her, was she not a woman?
Ay, and perhaps was willing to be forced.
Must you, being private subjects, dare to ring
War’s loud alarum ’gainst your potent king?

Porsenna.
Brutus, therein thou dost forget thyself,
And wrong’st the glory of thine ancestors,
Staining thy blood with treason.

Brutus.
Tuscan, know
The Consul Brutus is their powerful foe.

Tarquin, Tullia, &c.
Consul!

Horatius.
Ay, Consul; and the powerful hand of Rome
Grasps his imperial sword: the name of king
The tyrant Tarquins have made odious
Unto this nation, and the general knee
Of this our warlike people now low bends
To royal Brutus, where the king’s name ends.

Brutus.
Now, Sextus, where’s the oracle? when I kissed
My mother earth it plainly did foretell
My noble virtues did thy sin exceed,
Brutus should sway, and lust-burnt Tarquin bleed.

Valerius.
Now shall the blood of Servius fall as heavy
As a huge mountain on your tyrant heads,
O’erwhelming all your glory.

Horatius.
Tullia’s guilt
Shall be by us revenged, that, in her pride,
In blood paternal her rough coach-wheels dyed.

Lucretius.
Your tyrannies--

Scevola.
Pride--

Collatine.
And my Lucrece’ fate,
Shall all be swallowed in this hostile hate.

Sextus.
O Romulus! thou that first reared yon walls
In sight of which we stand, in thy soft bosom
Is hanged the nest in which the Tarquins build;
Within the branches of thy lofty spires
Tarquin shall perch, or where he once hath stood
His high built aery shall be drowned in blood.
Alarum then! Brutus, by Heaven I vow
My sword shall prove thou ne’er wast mad till now.

Brutus.
Sextus, my madness with your lives expires;
Thy sensual eyes are fixed upon that wall
Thou ne’er shalt enter; Rome confines you all.

Porsenna.
A charge then!

Tarquin.
Jove and Tarquin!

Horatius.
But we cry a Brutus!

Brutus.
Lucrece, fame, and victory!

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III.--_A Bridge across the Tiber_.

_Alarum. The_ Romans _are beaten off. Enter_ Brutus, Horatius, Valerius, Scevola, Lucretius _and_ Collatine.

Brutus.
Thou Jovial hand, hold up thy sceptre high,
And let not justice be oppressed with pride!
O you Penates; leave not Rome and us
Grasped in the purple hands of death and ruin!
The Tarquins have the best.

Horatius.
Yet stand; my foot is fixed upon this bridge.
Tiber, thy archèd streams shall be changed crimson
With Roman blood before I budge from hence.

Scevola.
Brutus, retire; for if thou enter Rome
We are all lost. Stand not on valour now,
But save thy people; let’s survive this day,
To try the fortunes of another field.

Valerius.
Break down the bridge, lest the pursuing enemy
Enter with us and take the spoil of Rome.

Horatius.
Then break behind me; for, by Heaven, I’ll grow
And root my foot as deep as to the centre,
Before I leave this passage!

Lucretius.
Come, you’re mad.

Collatine.
The foe comes on, and we in trifling here,
Hazard ourself and people.

Horatius.
Save them all;
To make Rome stand, Horatius here will fall.

Brutus.
We would not lose thee; do not breast thyself
’Gainst thousands; if thou front’st them thou art ringed
With million swords and darts, and we behind
Must break the bridge of Tiber to save Rome.
Before thee infinite[5.65] gaze on thy face
And menace death; the raging streams of Tiber
Are at thy back to swallow thee.

Horatius.
Retire;
To make Rome live, ’tis death that I desire.

Brutus.
Then farewell, dead Horatius! think in us
The universal arm of potent Rome
Takes his last leave of thee in this embrace.

[_All embrace him_.

Horatius.
Farewell!

All.
Farewell!

Brutus.
These arches all must down
To interdict their passage through the town.

[_Exeunt all except_ Horatius.

_Alarum. Enter_ Tarquin, Porsenna, _and_ Aruns, _with their
pikes and targeters_.

All.
Enter, enter, enter.

[_A noise of knocking down the bridge, within_.

Horatius.
Soft, Tarquin! see a bulwark to the bridge,
You first must pass; the man that enters here
Must make his passage through Horatius’ breast;
See, with this target do I buckler[5.66] Rome,
And with this sword defy the puissant army
Of two great kings.

Porsenna.
One man to face an host!
Charge, soldiers! of full forty thousand Romans
There’s but one daring hand against your host,
To keep you from the sack or spoil of Rome.
Charge, charge!

Aruns.
Upon them, soldiers!

[_Alarum_.

_Enter_ Sextus _and_ Valerius _above, at opposite sides_.

Sextus.
O cowards, slaves, and vassals! what, not enter!
Was it for this you placed my regiment
Upon a hill, to be the sad spectator
Of such a general cowardice? Tarquin, Aruns,
Porsenna, soldiers, pass Horatius quickly,
For they behind him will devolve the bridge,
And raging Tiber, that’s impassable,
Your host must swim before you conquer Rome.

Valerius.
Yet stand, Horatius; bear but one brunt more;
The archèd bridge shall sink upon his piles,
And in his fall lift thy renown to Heaven.

Sextus.
Yet enter!

Valerius.
Dear Horatius, yet stand,
And save a million by one powerful hand.

[_Alarum; the bridge falls_.

All.
Charge, charge, charge!

Sextus.
Degenerate slaves! the bridge is fallen, Rome’s lost.

Valerius.
Horatius, thou art stronger than their host;
Thy strength is valour, theirs are idle braves,
Now save thyself, and leap into the waves.

Horatius.
Porsenna, Tarquin, now wade past your depths
And enter Rome. I feel my body sink
Beneath my ponderous weight; Rome is preserved,
And now farewell; for he that follows me
Must search the bottom of this raging stream.
Fame, with thy golden wings renown my crest!
And, Tiber, take me on thy silver breast! [_Exit_.

Porsenna.
He’s leapt off from the bridge and drowned himself.

Sextus.
You are deceived; his spirit soars too high
To be choked in with the base element
Of water; lo! he swims, armed as he is,
Whilst all the army have discharged their arrows,
Of which the shield upon his back sticks full. [_Shout and flourish_.
And hark, the shout of all the multitude
Now welcomes him a-land! Horatius’ fame
Hath checked our armies with a general shame.
But come, to-morrow’s fortune must restore
This scandal, which I of the gods implore.

Porsenna.
Then we must find another time, fair prince,
To scourge these people, and revenge your wrongs.
For this night I’ll betake me to my tent. [_Exit_.

Tarquin.
And we to ours; to-morrow we’ll renown
Our army with the spoil of this rich town.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV.--_Inside_ Porsenna’s _Tent_.

_Enter_ Porsenna.

Porsenna.
Our secretary!

_Enter_ Secretary.

Secretary.
My lord.

Porsenna.
Command lights and torches in our tent,
[_Enter_ Soldiers _with Torches_.]
And let a guard engirt our safety round,
Whilst we debate of military business.
Come, sit and let’s consult.

_Enter_ Scevola, _disguised_.

Scevola.
[_Aside_.] Horatius famous for defending Rome,
But we ha’ done nought worthy Scevola,
Nor of a Roman: I in this disguise
Have passed the army and the puissant guard
Of King Porsenna: this should be his tent;
And in good time, now fate direct my strength
Against a king, to free great Rome at length.

[_Stabs the_ Secretary _in mistake for_ Porsenna.

Secretary.
Oh, I am slain! treason, treason!

Porsenna.
Villain, what hast thou done?

Scevola.
Why, slain the king.

Porsenna.
What king?

Scevola.
Porsenna.

Porsenna.
Porsenna lives to see thee torturèd,
With plagues more devilish than the pains of hell.

Scevola.
O too rash Mutius, hast thou missed thy aim!
And thou, base hand, that didst direct my poniard
Against a peasant’s breast, behold, thy error
Thus I will punish: I will give thee freely
Unto the fire, nor will I wear a limb
That with such rashness shall offend his lord.

[_Thrusts his hand into the fire_.

Porsenna.
What will the madman do?

Scevola.
Porsenna, so,--
Punish my hand thus, for not killing thee.
Three hundred noble lads beside myself
Have vowed to all the gods that patron Rome
Thy ruin for supporting tyranny;
And, though I fail, expect yet every hour
When some strange fate thy fortunes will devour.

Porsenna.
Stay, Roman; we admire thy constancy,
And scorn of fortune. Go, return to Rome,--
We give thee life,--and say, the King Porsenna,
Whose life thou seek’st, is in this honourable.
Pass freely; guard him to the walls of Rome;
And, were we not so much engaged to Tarquin,
We would not lift a hand against that nation
That breeds such noble spirits.

Scevola.
Well, I go,
And for revenge take life even of my foe. [_Exit_.

Porsenna.
Conduct him safely. What, three hundred gallants
Sworn to our death, and all resolved like him!
We must be provident: to-morrow’s fortunes
We’ll prove for Tarquin; if they fail our hopes,
Peace shall be made with Rome. But first our secretary
Shall have his rites of funeral; then our shield
We must address next for to-morrow’s field. [_Exit_.

SCENE V.--_A Public Place in Rome_.

_Enter_ Brutus, Horatius, Valerius, Collatine, _and_ Lucretius, _marching_.

Brutus.
By thee we are consul, and still govern Rome,
Which but for thee had been despoiled and ta’en,
Made a confusèd heap of men and stones,
Swimming in blood and slaughter; dear Horatius,
Thy noble picture shall be carved in brass,
And fixed for thy perpetual memory
In our high Capitol.

Horatius.
Great consul, thanks!
But, leaving this, let’s march out of the city,
And once more bid them battle on the plains.

Valerius.
This day my soul divines we shall live free
From all the furious Tarquins. But where’s Scevola?
We see not him to-day.

_Enter_ Scevola.

Scevola.
Here, lords, behold me handless as you see.
The cause--I missed Porsenna in his tent,
And in his stead killed but his secretary.
The ’mazèd king, when he beheld me punish
My rash mistake with loss of my right hand,
Unbegged, and almost scorned, he gave me life,
Which I had then refused, but in desire
To ’venge fair Lucrece’ rape.

[_Soft alarum_.

Horatius.
Dear Scevola,
Thou hast exceeded us in our resolve:
But will the Tarquins give us present battle?

Scevola.
That may ye hear; the skirmish is begun
Already ’twixt the horse.

Lucretius.
Then, noble consul,
Lead our main battle[5.67] on.

Brutus.
O Jove, this day
Balance our cause, and let the innocent blood
Of rape-stained Lucrece crown with death and horror
The heads of all the Tarquins! See, this day
In her cause do we consecrate our lives,
And in defence of justice now march on.
I hear their martial music: be our shock
As terrible as are the meeting clouds
That break in thunder! yet our hopes are fair,
And this rough charge shall all our loss repair.

[_Exeunt. Alarum, battle within_.

SCENE VI.--_Outside Rome_.

_Enter_ Porsenna _and_ Aruns.

Porsenna.
Yet grow our lofty plumes unflagged with blood,
And yet sweet pleasure wantons in the air.
How goes the battle, Aruns?

Aruns.
’Tis even balanced.
I interchanged with Brutus, hand to hand,
A dangerous encounter; both are wounded,
And, had not the rude press divided us,
One had dropped down to earth.

Porsenna.
’Twas bravely fought.
I saw the king your father free his person
From thousand Romans that begirt his state,
Where flying arrows thick as atoms sung
About his ears.

Aruns.
I hope a glorious day.
Come, Tuscan king, let’s on them.

[_Alarum_.

_Enter_ Horatius _and_ Valerius.

Horatius.
Aruns, stay!
That sword, that late did drink the consul’s blood,
Must with his keen fang tire upon[5.68] my flesh,
Or this on thine.

Aruns.
It spared the consul’s life
To end thy days in a more glorious strife.

Valerius.
I stand against thee, Tuscan!

Porsenna.
I for thee!

Horatius.
Where’er I find a Tarquin, he’s for me.

[_Alarum. They fight;_ Aruns _is slain_, Porsenna _driven off_.

_Alarum. Enter_ Tarquin _with an arrow in his breast_, Tullia
_with him, pursued by_ Collatine, Lucretius, Scevola.

Tarquin.
Fair Tullia, leave me; save thy life by flight,
Since mine is desperate; behold, I am wounded
Even to the death. There stays within my tent
A wingèd jennet, mount his back and fly;
Live to revenge my death, since I must die.

Tullia.
Had I the heart to tread upon the bulk[5.69]
Of my dead father, and to see him slaughtered,
Only for love of Tarquin and a crown,
And shall I fear death more than loss of both?
No, this is Tullia’s fame,--rather than fly
From Tarquin, ’mongst a thousand swords she’ll die.

Collatine, Lucretius, and Scevola.
Hew them to pieces both.

Tarquin.
My Tullia save,
And o’er my caitiff head those meteors wave!

Collatine.
Let Tullia yield then.

Tullia.
Yield me, cuckold! no;
Mercy I scorn; let me the danger know.

Scevola.
Upon them, then!

Valerius.
Let’s bring them to their fate,
And let them perish in the people’s hate.

Tullia.
Fear not, I’ll back thee, husband.

Tarquin.
But for thee,
Sweet were the hand that this charged soul could free!
Life I despise. Let noble Sextus stand
To avenge our death. Even till these vitals end,
Scorning my own, thy life will I defend.

Tullia.
And I’ll, sweet Tarquin, to my power guard thine.
Come on, ye slaves, and make this earth divine!

[_Alarum_. Tarquin _and_ Tullia _are slain_.

_Enter_ Brutus _all bloody_.

Brutus.
Aruns, this crimson favour, for thy sake,
I’ll wear upon my forehead masked with blood,
Till all the moisture in the Tarquins’ veins
Be spilt upon the earth, and leave thy body
As dry as the parched summer, burnt and scorched
With the canicular stars.

Horatius.
Aruns lies dead
By this bright sword that towered about his head.

Collatine.
And see, great consul, where the pride of Rome
Lies sunk and fallen.

Valerius.
Beside him lies the queen,
Mangled and hewn amongst the Roman soldiers.

Horatius.
Lift up their slaughtered bodies; help to rear them
Against this hill in view of all the camp:
This sight will be a terror to the foe,
And make them yield or fly.

Brutus.
But where’s the ravisher,
Injurious Sextus, that we see not him?

[_Short alarum_.

_Enter_ Sextus.

Sextus.
Through broken spears, cracked swords, unbowelled steeds,
Flawed armours, mangled limbs, and battered casques,
Knee-deep in blood, I ha’ pierced the Roman host
To be my father’s rescue.

Horatius.
’Tis too late;
His mounting pride’s sunk in the people’s hate.

Sextus.
My father, mother, brother! Fortune, now
I do defy thee; I expose myself
To horrid danger; safety I despise:
I dare the worst of peril; I am bound
On till this pile of flesh be all one wound.

Valerius.
Begirt him, lords; this is the ravisher;
There’s no revenge for Lucrece till he fall.

Lucretius.
Seize Sextus, then--

Sextus.
Sextus defies you all!
Yet will you give me language ere I die?

Brutus.
Say on.

Sextus.
’Tis not for mercy, for I scorn that life
That’s given by any; and, the more to add
To your immense unmeasurable hate,
I was the spur unto my father’s pride;
’Twas I that awed the princes of the land;
That made thee, Brutus, mad, these discontent:
I ravished the chaste Lucrece; Sextus, I,--
Thy daughter,--and thy wife,--Brutus, thy cousin,--
Allied, indeed, to all; ’twas for my rape
Her constant[5.70] hand ripped up her innocent breast:
’Twas Sextus did all this.

Collatine.
Which I’ll revenge.

Horatius.
Leave that to me.

Lucretius.
Old as I am, I’ll do’t.

Scevola.
I have one hand left yet, of strength enough
To kill a ravisher.

Sextus.
Come all at once--ay, all!
Yet hear me, Brutus; thou art honourable,
And my words tend to thee: my father died
By many hands; what’s he ’mongst you can challenge
The least, ay, smallest honour in his death?
If I be killed amongst this hostile throng,
The poorest snaky[5.71] soldier well may claim
As much renown in royal Sextus’ death
As Brutus, thou, or thou, Horatius:
I am to die, and more than die I cannot;
Rob not yourselves of honour in my death.
When the two mightiest spirits of Greece and Troy
Tugged for the mastery, Hector and Achilles,
Had puissant Hector, by Achilles’ hand,
Died in a single monomachy,[5.72] Achilles
Had been the worthy; but, being slain by odds,
The poorest Myrmidon had as much honour
As faint Achilles in the Trojan’s death.

Brutus.
Hadst thou not done a deed so execrable
That gods and men abhor, I’d love thee, Sextus,
And hug thee for this challenge breathed so freely.
Behold, I stand for Rome as general:
Thou of the Tarquins dost alone survive,
The head of all these garboils,[5.73] the chief actor
Of that black sin, which we chastise by arms.--
Brave Romans, with your bright swords be our lists,
And ring us in; none dare to offend the prince
By the least touch, lest he incur our wrath:
This honour do your consul, that his hand
May punish this arch-mischief, that the times
Succeeding may of Brutus thus much tell,--
By him pride, lust, and all the Tarquins fell.

Sextus.
To ravish Lucrece, cuckold Collatine,
And spill the chastest blood that ever ran
In any matron’s veins, repents me not
So much as to have wronged a gentleman
So noble as the consul in this strife.
Brutus, be bold! thou fight’st with one scorns[5.74] life.

Brutus.
And thou with one that less than his renown
Prizeth his blood, or Rome’s imperial crown.

[_Alarum; a fierce fight with sword and target; then a pause_.

Brutus.
Sextus, stand fair: much honour shall I win
To revenge Lucrece, and chastise thy sin.

Sextus.
I repent nothing, may I live or die;
Though my blood fall, my spirit shall mount on high.

[_Alarum; they fight with single swords, and, being deadly wounded
and panting for breath, they strike at each other with their
gauntlets and fall_.

Horatius.
Both slain! O noble Brutus, this thy fame
To after ages shall survive; thy body
Shall have a fair and gorgeous sepulchre,
For whom the matrons shall in funeral black
Mourn twelve sad moons--thou that first governed Rome,
And swayed the people by a consul’s name.
These bodies of the Tarquins we’ll commit
Unto the funeral pile. You, Collatine,
Shall succeed Brutus in the consul’s place,
Whom with this laurel-wreath we here create.
[_Crowning him with laurel_.]
Such is the people’s voice; accept it, then.

Collatine.
We do; and may our power so just appear,
Rome may have peace, both with our love and fear.
But soft, what march is this?

_Flourish. Enter_ Porsenna, Collatine, _and_ Soldiers.

Porsenna.
The Tuscan King, seeing the Tarquins slain,
Thus armed and battled, offers peace to Rome,
To confirm which, we’ll give you present hostage;
If you deny, we’ll stand upon our guard,
And by the force of arms maintain our own.

Valerius.
After so much effusion and large waste
Of Roman blood, the name of peace is welcome:
Since of the Tarquins none remain in Rome,
And Lucrece’ rape is now revenged at full,
’Twere good to entertain Porsenna’s league.

Collatine.
Porsenna we embrace, whose royal presence
Shall grace the consul to the funeral pile.
March on to Rome. Jove be our guard and guide,
That hath in us ’venged rape, and punished pride!

[_Exeunt_.

To the Reader.

Because we would not that any man’s expectation should be deceived in the ample printing of this book, lo, Gentle Reader, we have inserted these few songs, which were added by the stranger that lately acted Valerius his part, in form following.

_The Cries of Rome_.

Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town; First they go up street, and then they go down.

Round and sound, all of a colour; buy a very fine marking stone, marking stone; round and sound, all of a colour; buy a very fine marking stone, a very very fine! Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town; First they go up street, and then they go down.

Bread and--meat--bread--and meat, for the ten--der--mercy of God, to
the poor pris--ners of Newgate, four--score and--ten--poor--prisoners!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Salt--salt--white Wor--stershire salt!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Buy a very fine mouse-trap, or a tormentor for your fleas!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Kitchen-stuff, maids!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Ha’ you any wood to cleave?
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

I ha’ white radish, white hard lettuce, white young onions!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

I ha’ rock-sampier, rock-sampier![5.75]
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Buy a mat, a mil-mat, mat, or a hassock for your pew, a stopple for
your close-stool, or a pesock to thrust your feet in!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Whiting, maids, whiting!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Hot fine oat-cakes, hot!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Small-coals here!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Will you buy any milk to-day?
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Lanthorn and candle-light here! Maid, a light here!
Thus go the cries in Rome’s fair town;
First they go up street, and then they go down.

Here lies a company of very poor women in the dark dungeon, hungry, cold, and comfortless night and day! Pity the poor women in the dark dungeon! Thus go the cries where they do house them; First they come to the grate, and then they go louse them.

_The Second Song_.

“Arise, arise, my Juggy, my Puggy,
Arise, get up, my dear;
The weather is cold, it blows, it snows;
Oh, let me be lodgèd here.
My Juggy, my Puggy, my honey, my cony,
My love, my dove, my dear;
Oh, oh, the weather is cold, it blows, it snows,
Oh, oh, let me be lodgèd here.”

“Begone, begone, my Willy, my Billy,
Begone, begone, my dear;
The weather is warm, ’twill do thee no harm;
Thou canst not be lodgèd here.
My Willy, my Billy, my honey, my cony,
My love, my dove, my dear;
Oh, oh, the weather is warm, ’twill do thee no harm
Oh oh, thou canst not be lodgèd here.”

“Farewell, farewell, my Juggy, my Puggy,
Farewell, farewell, my dear;
Then will I begone from whence that I came,
If I cannot be lodgèd here.
My Juggy, my Puggy, my honey, my cony,
My love, my dove, my dear;
Oh, oh, then will I begone, from whence that I came,
Oh, oh, if I cannot be lodgèd here.”

“Return, return, my Willy, my Billy,
Return, my dove and my dear;
The weather doth change, then seem not strange;
Thou shalt be lodgèd here.
My Willy, my Billy, my honey, my cony,
My love, my dove, my dear;
Oh, oh, the weather doth change, then seem not strange,
Oh, oh, and thou shalt be lodgèd here.”

FOOTNOTES.