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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE, by THOMAS HEYWOOD Poet's Biography
First Line: Withdraw; we must have private conference
Last Line: "oh, oh, and thou shalt be lodgèd here."
First Line: Withdraw; we must have private conference
Last Line: "oh, oh, and thou shalt be lodgèd here."
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
SERVIUS, King of Rome.
TARQUIN the Proud.
ARUNS, Son of TARQUIN.
SEXTUS, Son of TARQUIN.
BRUTUS JUNIOR.
COLLATINUS, otherwise COLLATINE.
HORATIUS COCLES.
MUTIUS SCEVOLA.
LUCRETIUS.
VALERIUS.
POPLICOLA.
PORSENNA, King of the Tuscans.
PORSENNA'S Secretary.
The Priest of Apollo.
Two Sentinels.
Senators.
Serving-man.
Clown.
LUCRECE, Wife of COLLATINUS.
TULLIA, Wife of TARQUIN.
MIRABLE, LUCRECE'S Maid.
SCENE.—ROME and its outskirts, DELPHI, and ARDEA.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.—The Senate-house.
Enter TARQUIN, TULLIA, SEXTUS, ARUNS, LUCRETIUS, VALERIUS, POPLICOLA,
and Senators before them.
TUL. Withdraw; we must have private conference
With our dear husband.
[Exeunt all except TARQUIN and TULLIA.
Tar. What wouldst thou, wife?
Tul. Be what I am not; make thee greater far
Than thou canst aim to be.
Tar. Why, I am Tarquin.
Tul. And I am Tullia—what of that?
What diapason's more in Tarquin's name
Than in a subject's? or what's Tullia
More in the sound than to become the name
Of a poor maid or waiting gentlewoman?
I am a princess both by birth and thoughts,
Yet all's but Tullia. There's no resonance
In a bare style; my title bears no breadth,
Nor hath it any state. O me, I'm sick!
Tar. Sick, lady!
Tul. Sick at heart.
Tar. Why, my sweet Tullia?
Tul. To be a queen I long, long, and am sick;
With ardency my hot appetite's a-fire,
Till my swollen fervour be deliverèd
Of that great title queen. My heart's all royal,
Not to be circumscribed in servile bounds.
While there's a king that rules the peers of Rome,
Tarquin makes legs, and Tullia curtsies low,
Bows at each nod, and must not near the state
Without obeisance. Oh! I hate this awe;
My proud heart cannot brook it.
Tar. Hear me, wife.
Tul. I am no wife of Tarquin's if not king:
Oh, had Jove made me man, I would have mounted
Above the base tribunals of the earth,
Up to the clouds, for pompous sovereignty.
Thou art a man: oh, bear my royal mind,
Mount heaven, and see if Tullia lag behind.
There is no earth in me, I am all fire;
Were Tarquin so, then should we both aspire.
Tar. O Tullia, though my body taste of dulness,
My soul is winged to soar as high as thine;
But note what flags our wings,—forty-five years
The king thy father hath protected Rome.
Tul. That makes for us: the people covet change;
Even the best things in time grow tedious.
Tar. 'Twould seem unnatural in thee, my Tullia,
The reverend king thy father to depose.
Tul. A kingdom's quest makes sons and fathers foes.
Tar. And but by Servius' fall we cannot climb;
The balm that must anoint us is his blood.
Tul. Let's lave our brows then in that crimson flood;
We must be bold and dreadless: who aspires,
Mounts by the lives of fathers, sons, and sires.
Tar. And so must I, since, for a kingdom's love,
Thou canst despise a father for a crown.
Tarquin shall mount, Servius be tumbled down,
For he usurps my state, and first deposed
My father in my swathèd infancy,
For which he shall be countant: to this end
I have sounded all the peers and senators,
And, though unknown to thee, my Tullia,
They all embrace my faction; and so they
Love change of state, a new king to obey.
Tul. Now is my Tarquin worthy Tullia's grace,
Since in my arms I thus a king embrace.
Tar. The king should meet this day in parliament
With all the Senate and Estates of Rome.
His place will I assume, and there proclaim
All our decrees in royal Tarquin's name. [Flourish.
Re-enter SEXTUS, ARUNS, LUCRETIUS, VALERIUS, COLLATINE, and Senators.
Luc. May it please thee, noble Tarquin, to attend
The king this day in the high Capitol?
Tul. Attend!
Tar. We intend this day to see the Capitol.
You knew our father, good Lucretius?
Luc. I did, my lord.
Tar. Was not I his son?
The queen my mother was of royal thoughts,
And heart pure as unblemished innocence.
Luc. What asks my lord?
Tar. Sons should succeed their fathers: but anon
You shall hear more; high time that we were gone.
[Flourish. Exeunt all but COLLATINE and VALERIUS.
Col. There's moral sure in this, Valerius:
Here's model, yea, and matter too to breed
Strange meditations in the provident brains
Of our grave fathers: some strange project lives
This day in cradle that's but newly born.
Val. No doubt, Collatine, no doubt, here's a giddy and drunken world;
it reels; it hath got the staggers; the commonwealth is sick of an ague, of
which nothing can cure her but some violent and sudden affrightment.
Col. The wife of Tarquin would be a queen—nay, on my life, she
is
with child till she be so.
Val. And longs to be brought to bed of a kingdom. I divine we shall se
e
scuffling to-day in the Capitol.
Col. If there be any difference among the princes and Senate, whose
faction will Valerius follow?
Val. Oh, Collatine, I am a true citizen, and in this I will best show
myself to be one, to take part with the strongest. If Servius o'ercome, I am
liegeman to Servius; and if Tarquin subdue, I am for vive Tarquinius.
Col. Valerius, no more, this talk does but keep us from the sight of
this solemnity: by this the princes are entering the Capitol: come, we must
attend. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The same.
Enter TARQUIN, TULLIA, SEXTUS, ARUNS, LUCRETIUS on one side: BRUTUS
meeting them on the other very humorously.
Tar. This place is not for fools, this parliament
Assembles not the strains of idiotism,
Only the grave and wisest of the land:
Important are the affairs we have in hand.
Hence with that mome.
Luc. Brutus, forbear the presence.
Bru. Forbear the presence! why, pray?
Sex. None are admitted to this grave concourse
But wise men. Nay, good Brutus.
Bru. You'll have an empty parliament then.
Aruns. Here is no room for fools.
Bru. Then what makest thou here, or he, or he? O Jupiter! if this
command be kept strictly, we shall have empty benches: get you home, you that
are here, for here will be nothing to do this day. A general concourse of wise
men! 'twas never seen since the first chaos. Tarquin, if the general rule have
no exceptions, thou wilt have an empty consistory.
Tul. Brutus, you trouble us.
Bru. How powerful am I, you Roman deities, that am able to trouble
her
that troubles a whole empire! Fools exempted, and women admitted! laugh,
Democritus. But have you nothing to say to madmen?
Tar. Madmen have here no place.
Bru. Then out of doors with Tarquin. What's he that may sit in a calm
valley, and will choose to repose in a tempestuous mountain, but a madman?
that
may live in tranquillous pleasures, and will seek out a kingdom's care, but a
madman? who would seek innovation in a commonwealth in public, or be overruled
by a curst wife in private, but a fool or a madman? Give me thy hand,
Tarquin; shall we two be dismissed together from the Capitol?
Tar. Restrain his folly.
Tul. Drive the frantic hence.
Aruns. Nay, Brutus.
Sex. Good Brutus.
Bru. Nay, soft, soft, good blood of the Tarquins, let's have a few
cold
words first, and I am gone in an instant. I claim the privilege of the
nobility
of Rome, and by that privilege my seat in the Capitol. I am a lord by
birth, my
place is as free in the Capitol as Horatius, thine; or thine,
Lucretius; thine,
Sextus; Aruns, thine; or any here: I am a lord, and you banish all the lord
fools from the presence. You'll have few to wait upon the king, but gentlemen.
Nay, I am easily persuaded then—hands off! since you will not have my
company, you shall have my room.
[Aside.] My room indeed; for what I seem to be
Brutus is not, but born great Rome to free.
The state is full of dropsy, and swollen big
With windy vapours, which my sword must pierce,
To purge the infected blood bred by the pride
Of these infested bloods. Nay, now I go;
Behold, I vanish, since 'tis Tarquin's mind:
One small fool goes, but great fools leaves behind. [Exit.
Luc. 'Tis pity one so generously derived
Should be deprived his best induements thus,
And want the true directions of the soul.
Tar. To leave these dilatory trifles, lords,
Now to the public business of the land.
Lords, take your several places.
Luc. Not, great Tarquin,
Before the king assume his regal throne,
Whose coming we attend.
Tul. He's come already.
Luc. The king?
Tar. The king.
Col. Servius?
Tar. Tarquinius.
Luc. Servius is king.
Tar. He was: by power divine
The throne that long since he usurped is mine.
Here we enthrone ourselves, cathedral state,
Long since detained us, justly we resume;
Then let our friends and such as love us cry,
Live Tarquin, and enjoy this sovereignty!
All. Live Tarquin and enjoy this sovereignty!
[Flourish.
Enter VALERIUS.
Val. The king himself, with such confederate peers
As stoutly embrace his faction, being informed
Of Tarquin's usurpation, armèd comes
Near to the entrance of the Capitol.
Tar. No man give place; he that dares to arise
And do him reverence, we his love despise.
Enter SERVIUS, HORATIUS, SCEVOLA, and Soldiers.
Ser. Traitor!
Tar. Usurper!
Ser. Descend.
Tul. Sit still.
Ser. In Servius' name, Rome's great imperial monarch,
I charge thee, Tarquin, disenthrone thyself,
And throw thee at our feet, prostrate for mercy.
Hor. Spoke like a king.
Tar. In Tarquin's name, now Rome's imperial monarch,
We charge thee, Servius, make free resignation
Of that arched wreath thou hast usurped so long.
Tul. Words worth an empire.
Hor. Shall this be brooked, my sovereign?
Dismount the traitor.
Sex. Touch him he that dares.
Hor. Dares!
Tul. Dares.
Ser. Strumpet, no child of mine!
Tul. Dotard, and not my father!
Ser. Kneel to thy king.
Tul. Submit thou to thy queen.
Ser. Insufferable treason! with bright steel
Lop down these interponents that withstand
The passage to our throne.
Hor. That Cocles dares.
Sex. We with our steel guard Tarquin and his chair.
Sce. A Servius!
Aruns. A Tarquin! [They fight; SERVIUS is slain.
Tar. Now are we king indeed; our awe is builded
Upon this royal base, the slaughtered body
Of a dead king; we by his ruin rise
To a monarchal throne.
Tul. We have our longing;
My father's death gives me a second life
Much better than the first; my birth was servile,
But this new breath of reign is large and free:
Welcome, my second life of sovereignty!
Luc. I have a daughter, but, I hope, of mettle
Subject to better temperature; should my Lucrece
Be of this pride, these hands should sacrifice
Her blood unto the gods that dwell below;
The abortive brat should not out-live my spleen.
But Lucrece is my daughter, this my queen.
Tul. Tear off the crown that yet empales the temples
Of our usurping father—quickly, lords—
And in the face of his yet bleeding wounds
Let us receive our honours.
Tar. The same breath
Gives our state life, that was the usurper's death.
Tul. Here then by Heaven's hand we invest ourselves:
Music, whose loftiest tones grace princes crowned,
Unto our novel coronation sound.
[Flourish. VALERIUS leads forward HORATIUS and SCEVOLA.
Tar. Whom doth Valerius to our state present?
Val. Two valiant Romans; this Horatius Cocles,
This gentleman called Mutius Scevola,
Who, whilst King Servius wore the diadem,
Upheld his sway and princedom by their loves;
But he being fallen, since all the peers of Rome
Applaud King Tarquin in his sovereignty,
They with like suffrage greet your coronation.
Hor. This hand, allied unto the Roman crown,
Whom never fear dejected or cast low,
Lays his victorious sword at Tarquin's feet,
And prostrates with that sword allegiance.
King Servius' life we loved, but, he expired,
Great Tarquin's life is in our hearts desired.
Sce. Who, whilst he rules with justice and integrity,
Shall with our dreadless hands our hearts command,
Even with the best employments of our lives.
Since fortune lifts, thee, we submit to fate:
Ourselves are vassals to the Roman state.
Tar. Your rooms were empty in our train of friends,
Which we rejoice to see so well supplied:
Receive our grace, live in our element favours,
In whose submission our young glory grows
To his ripe height: fall in our friendly train,
And strengthen with your loves our infant reign.
Hor. We live for Tarquin.
Sce. And to thee alone,
Whilst Justice keeps thy sword and thou thy throne.
Tar. Then are you ours. And now conduct us straight
In triumph through the populous streets of Rome
To the king's palace, our majestic seat.
Your hearts, though freely proffered, we entreat. [Music.
As they march, TULLIA treads on SERVIUS'S dead body and pauses.
Tul. What block is that we tread on?
Luc. 'Tis the body
Of your deceasèd father, madam queen;
Your shoe is crimsoned with his vital blood.
Tul. No matter; let his mangled body lie,
And with his base confederates strew the streets,
That, in disgrace of his usurpèd pride,
We o'er his trunk may in our chariot ride;
For, mounted like a queen, 'twould do me good
To wash my coach-naves in my father's blood.
Luc. Here's a good child!
Tar. Remove it, we command,
And bear his carcase to the funeral pile,
Where, after this dejection, let it have
His solemn and due obsequies. Fair Tullia,
Thy hate to him grows from thy love to us;
Thou show'st thyself in this unnatural strife
An unkind daughter, but a loving wife.
But on unto our palace: this blest day,
A king's increase grows by a king's decay. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Public Place in Rome.
Enter BRUTUS.
Bru. Murder the king! a high and capital treason.
Those giants that waged war against the gods,
For which the o'erwhelmed mountains hurled by Jove
To scatter them, and give them timeless graves,
Was not more cruel than this butchery,
This slaughter made by Tarquin. But the queen!
A woman—fie, fie! did not this she-parricide
Add to her father's wounds? and when his body
Lay all besmeared and stained in the blood royal,
Did not this monster, this infernal hag,
Make her unwilling charioter drive on,
And with his shod wheels crush her father's bones,
Break his crazed skull, and dash his sparkled brains
Upon the pavements, whilst she held the reins?
The affrighted sun at this abhorrèd object
Put on a mask of blood, and yet she blushed not.
Jove, art thou just? hast thou reward for piety,
And for offence no vengeance? or canst punish
Felons, and pardon traitors? chastise murderers,
And wink at parricides? if thou be worthy,
As well we know thou art, to fill the throne
Of all eternity, then with that hand
That flings the trifurk thunder, let the pride
Of these our irreligious monarchisers
Be crowned in blood. This makes poor Brutus mad,—
To see sin frolic, and the virtuous sad.
Enter SEXTUS and ARUNS.
Aruns. Soft, here's Brutus; let us acquaint him with the news.
Sex. Content. Now, cousin Brutus.
Bru. Who, I your kinsman! though I be of the blood of the Tarquins,
yet
no cousin, gentle prince.
Aruns. And why so, Brutus? scorn you our alliance?
Bru. No; I was cousin to the Tarquins when they were subjects, but
dare
claim no kindred as they are sovereigns; Brutus is not so mad, though he be
merry, but he hath wit enough to keep his head on his shoulders.
Aruns. Why do you, my lord, thus lose your hours, and neither profess
war nor domestic profit? the first might beget you love, the other riches.
Bru. Because I would live. Have I not answered you? because I would
live. Fools and madmen are no rubs in the way of usurpers; the firmament can
brook but one sun, and for my part I must not shine: I had rather live an
obscure black than appear a fair white to be shot at. The end of all is, I
would
live. Had Servius been a shrub, the wind had not shook him: or a madman,
he had
not perished. I covet no more wit nor employment than as much as will
keep life
and soul together—I would but live.
Aruns. You are satirical, cousin Brutus: but to the purpose. The king
dreamt a strange and ominous dream last night, and, to be resolved of the
event,
my brother Sextus and I must to the oracle.
Sex. And, because we would be well accompanied, we have got leave of
the king that you, Brutus, shall associate us, for our purpose is to make a
merry journey on't.
Bru. So you'll carry me along with you to be your fool, and make you
merry.
Sex. Not our fool, but—
Bru. To make you merry: I shall, nay, I would make you merry, or tickl
e
you till you laugh. The oracle! I'll go to be resolved of some doubts private
to
myself: nay, princes, I am so much endeared both to your loves and companies,
that you shall not have the power to be rid of me. What limits have we for our
journey?
Sex. Five days, no more.
Bru. I shall fit me to your preparations. But one thing more: goes
Collatine along?
Sex. Collatine is troubled with the common disease of all new-married
men; he's sick of the wife: his excuse is, forsooth, that Lucrece will not let
him go: but you, having neither wife nor wit to hold you, I hope will not
disappoint us.
Bru. Had I both, yet should you prevail with me above either.
Aruns. We shall expect you.
Bru. Horatius Cocles and Mutius Scevola are not engaged in this
expedition?
Aruns. No, they attend the king. Farewell.
Bru. Lucretius stays at home too, and Valerius?
Sex. The palace cannot spare them.
Bru. None but we three?
Sex. We three.
Bru. We three; well, five days hence.
Sex. You have the time, farewell.
[Exeunt SEXTUS and ARUNS.
Bru. The time I hope cannot be circumscribed
Within so short a limit; Rome and I
Are not so happy. What's the reason then,
Heaven spares his rod so long? Mercury, tell me.
I have't, the fruit of pride is yet but green,
Not mellow; though it grows apace, it comes not
To his full height: Jove oft delays his vengeance,
That when it haps 't may prove more terrible.
Despair not, Brutus, then, but let thy country
And thee take this last comfort after all:
Pride, when thy fruit is ripe 't must rot and fall.
But to the oracle. [Exit.
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.—A Street in Rome.
Enter HORATIUS COCLES and MUTIUS SCEVOLA.
HOR. I would I were no Roman.
Sce. Cocles, why?
Hor. I am discontented, and dare not speak my thoughts.
Sce. What, shall I speak them for you?
Hor. Mutius, do.
Sce. Tarquin is proud.
Hor. Thou hast them.
Sce. Tyrannous.
Hor. True.
Sce. Insufferably lofty.
Hor. Thou hast hit me.
Sce. And shall I tell thee what I prophesy
Of his succeeding rule?
Hor. No, I'll do't for thee:
Tarquin's ability will in the weal
Beget a weak unable impotence;
His strength make Rome and our dominions weak,
His soaring high make us to flag our wings,
And fly close by the earth; his golden feathers
Are of such vastness, that they spread like sails,
And so becalm us that we have not air
Able to raise our plumes, to taste the pleasures
Of our own elements.
Sce. We are one heart;
Our thoughts and our desires are suitable.
Hor. Since he was king he bears him like a god,
His wife like Pallas, or the wife of Jove;
Will not be spoke to without sacrifice,
And homage sole due to the deities.
Enter LUCRETIUS.
Sce. What haste with good Lucretius?
Luc. Haste, but small speed.
I had an earnest suit unto the king,
About some business that concerns the weal
Of Rome and us; 'twill not be listened to.
He has took upon him such ambitious state
That he abandons conference with his peers,
Or, if he chance to endure our tongues so much
As but to hear their sonance, he despises
The intent of all our speeches, our advices,
And counsel, thinking his own judgment only
To be approved in matters military,
And in affairs domestic; we are but mutes,
And fellows of no parts, viols unstrung,
Our notes too harsh to strike in princes' ears.
Great Jove amend it!
Hor. Whither will you, my lord?
Luc. No matter where,
If from the court. I'll home to Collatine
And to my daughter Lucrece: home breeds safety,
Danger's begot in court; a life retired
Must please me now perforce: then, noble Scevola,
And you my dear Horatius, farewell both.
Where industry is scorned let's welcome sloth.
Enter COLLATINE.
Hor. Nay, good Lucretius, do not leave us thus.
See, here comes Collatine; but where's Valerius?
How does he taste these times?
Col. Not giddily like Brutus, passionately
Like old Lucretius with his tear-swollen eyes;
Not laughingly like Mutius Scevola,
Nor bluntly like Horatius Cocles here;
He has usurped a stranger garb of humour,
Distinct from these in nature every way.
Luc. How is he relished? can his eyes forbear
In this strange state to shed a passionate tear?
Sce. Can he forbear to laugh with Scevola,
At that which passionate weeping cannot mend?
Hor. Nay, can his thought shape aught but melancholy
To see these dangerous passages of state?
How is he tempered, noble Collatine?
Col. Strangely; he is all song, he's ditty all,
Note that: Valerius hath given up the court,
And weaned himself from the king's consistory,
In which his sweet harmonious tongue grew harsh.
Whether it be that he is discontent,
Yet would not so appear before the king,
Or whether in applause of these new edicts,
Which so distaste the people, or what cause
I know not, but now he's all musical.
Unto the council chamber he goes singing,
And whilst the king his wilful edicts makes,
In which none's tongue is powerful save the king's,
He's in a corner, relishing strange airs.
Conclusively, he's from a toward hopeful gentleman,
Transhaped to a mere ballater, none knowing
Whence should proceed this transmutation.
Enter VALERIUS.
Hor. See where he comes. Morrow, Valerius.
Luc. Morrow, my lord.
Val. [Sings.] When Tarquin first in court began,
And was approvèd king,
Some men for sudden joy 'gan weep,
But I for sorrow sing.
Sce. Ha, ha! how long has my Valerius
Put on this strain of mirth, or what's the cause?
Val. [Sings.] Let humour change and spare not;
Since Tarquin's proud, I care not;
His fair words so bewitchèd my delight,
That I doted on his sight:
Now he is changed, cruel thoughts embracing,
And my deserts disgracing.
Hor. Upon my life he's either mad or love-sick.
Oh, can Valerius, but so late a statesman,
Of whom the public weal deserved so well,
Tune out his age in songs and canzonets,
Whose voice should thunder counsel in the ears
Of Tarquin and proud Tullia? Think, Valerius,
What that proud woman Tullia is; 'twill put thee
Quite out of tune.
Val. [Sings.] Now what is love I will thee tell:
It is the fountain and the well,
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is perhaps the sansing bell,
That rings all in to heaven or hell;
And this is love, and this is love, as I hear tell.
Now what is love I will you show:
A thing that creeps and cannot go,
A prize that passeth to and fro,
A thing for me, a thing for moe,
And he that proves shall find it so;
And this is love, and this is love, sweet friend, I trow.
Luc. Valerius, I shall quickly change thy cheer,
And make thy passionate eyes lament with mine.
Think how that worthy prince, our kinsman king,
Was butchered in the marble Capitol:
Shall Servius Tullius unregarded die
Alone of thee, whom all the Roman ladies,
Even yet with tear-swollen eyes, and sorrowful souls,
Compassionate, as well he merited?
To these lamenting dames what canst thou sing,
Whose grief through all the Roman temples ring?
Val. [Sings.] Lament, ladies, lament!
Lament the Roman land!
The king is fra thee hent
Was doughty on his hand.
We'll gang into the kirk,
His dead corpse we'll embrace,
And when we see him dead,
We aye will cry alas!—Fa la!
Hor. This music mads me; I all mirth despise.
Luc. To hear him sing draws rivers from mine eyes.
Sce. It pleaseth me; for since the court is harsh,
And looks askance on soldiers, let's be merry,
Court ladies, sing, drink, dance, and every man
Get him a mistress, coach it in the country,
And taste the sweets of it. What thinks Valerius
Of Scevola's last counsel?
Val. [Sings.] Why, since we soldiers cannot prove,
And grief it is to us therefore,
Let every man get him a love,
To trim her well, and fight no more;
That we may taste of lovers' bliss,
Be merry and blithe, embrace and kiss,
That ladies may say, Some more of this;
That ladies may say, Some more of this.
Since court and city both grow proud,
And safety you delight to hear,
We in the country will us shroud,
Where lives to please both eye and ear:
The nightingale sings jug, jug, jug,
The little lamb leaps after his dug,
And the pretty milk-maids they look so smug,
And the pretty milk-maids, &c.
Come, Scevola, shall we go and be idle?
Luc. I'll in to weep.
Hor. But I my gall to grate.
Sce. I'll laugh at time, till it will change our fate.
[Exeunt all but COLLATINE.
Col. Thou art not what thou seem'st, Lord Scevola;
Thy heart mourns in thee, though thy visage smile;
And so does thy soul weep, Valerius,
Although thy habit sing; for these new humours
Are but put on for safety, and to arm them
Against the pride of Tarquin, from whose danger,
None great in love, in counsel, or opinion,
Can be kept safe: this makes me lose my hours
At home with Lucrece, and abandon court.
Enter Clown.
Clown. Fortune, I embrace thee, that thou hast assisted me in finding
my master; the gods of good Rome keep my lord and master out of all bad
company!
Col. Sirrah, the news with you?
Clown. Would you ha' court news, camp news, city news, or
country news,
or would you know what's the news at home?
Col. Let me know all the news.
Clown. The news at court is, that a small leg and a silk
stocking is in
the fashion for your lord, and the water that God Mercury makes^21^ is in
request with your lady. The heaviness of the king's wine makes many a light
head, and the emptiness of his dishes many full bellies; eating
and drinking was
never more in use; you shall find the baddest legs in boots,
and the worst faces
in masks. They keep their old stomachs still: the king's
good cook hath the most
wrong; for that which was wont to be private only to him is now usurped among
all the other officers; for now every man in his place,
to the prejudice of the
master cook, makes bold to lick his own fingers.
Col. The news in the camp?
Clown. The greatest news in the camp is that there is no news at all;
for being no camp at all, how can there be any tidings from it?
Col. Then for the city?
Clown. The senators are rich, their wives fair, credit grows cheap,
and
traffic dear, for you have many that are broke; the poorest man that is may
take
up what he will, so he will be but bound—to a post till he pay the debt.
There was one courtier lay with twelve men's wives in the suburbs, and
pressing
farther to make one more cuckold within the walls, and being taken with the
manner, had nothing to say for himself but this—he that made twelve
made thirteen.
Col. Now, sir, for the country?
Clown. There is no news there but at the ale-house; there's the most
receipt. And is it not strange, my lord, that so many men love ale
that know not
what ale is?
Col. Why, what is ale?
Clown. Why, ale is a kind of juice made of the precious grain called
malt; and what is malt? Malt's M A L T; and what is M A L T? M much, A ale, L
little, T thrift; that is, much ale, little thrift.
Col. Only the news at home, and I have done?
Clown. My lady must needs speak with you about earnest business, that
concerns her nearly, and I was sent in all haste to entreat your lordship to
come away.
Col. And couldst thou not have told me? Lucrece stay,
And I stand trifling here! Follow, away!
Clown. Ay, marry, sir, the way into her were a way worth following,
and
that's the reason that so many serving-men that are familiar with their
mistresses have lost the name of servitors, and are now called their masters'
followers. Rest you merry! [Music.
SCENE II.—The Temple at Delphi.
Enter APOLLO'S Priests, with tapers; after them, ARUNS, SEXTUS,
and
BRUTUS, with their oblations, all kneeling before the Oracle.
Priest. O thou Delphian god, inspire
Thy priests, and with celestial fire
Shot from thy beams crown our desire,
That we may follow,
In these thy true and hallowed measures,
The utmost of thy heavenly treasures,
According to the thoughts and pleasures
Of great Apollo.
Our hearts with inflammations burn,
Great Tarquin and his people mourn,
Till from thy temple we return,
With some glad tiding.
Then tell us, shall great Rome be blest,
And royal Tarquin live in rest,
That gives his high-ennobled breast
To thy safe guiding?
Oracle. Then Rome her ancient honours wins,
When she is purged from Tullia's sins.
Bru. Gramercies, Phœbus, for these spells!
Phœbus alone, alone excels.
Sex. Tullia perhaps sinned in our grandsire's death,
And hath not yet by reconcilement made
Atone with Phœbus, at whose shrine we kneel;
Yet, gentle priest, let us thus far prevail,
To know if Tarquin's seed shall govern Rome,
And by succession claim the royal wreath?
Behold me, younger of the Tarquins' race,
This elder Aruns, both the sons of Tullia;
This Junius Brutus, though a madman, yet
Of the high blood of the Tarquins.
Priest. Sextus, peace.
Tell us, O thou that shin'st so bright,
From whom the world receives his light,
Whose absence is perpetual night,
Whose praises ring:
Is it with Heaven's applause decreed,
When Tarquin's soul from earth is freed,
That noble Sextus shall succeed
In Rome as king?
Bru. Ay, oracle, hast thou lost thy tongue?
Aruns. Tempt him again, fair priest.
Sex. If not as king, let Delphian Phœbus yet
Thus much resolve us: who shall govern Rome,
Or of us three bear great'st pre-eminence?
Priest. Sextus, I will.
Yet, sacred Phœbus, we entreat,
Which of these three shall be great
With largest power and state replete,
By the Heaven's doom?
Phœbus, thy thoughts no longer smother.
Oracle. He that first shall kiss his mother
Shall be powerful, and no other
Of you three in Rome.
Sex. Shall kiss his mother! [BRUTUS falls.
Bru. Mother Earth, to thee
An humble kiss I tender.
Aruns. What means Brutus?
Bru. The blood of the slaughtered sacrifice made this floor as
slippery
as the place where Tarquin treads; 'tis glassy and as smooth as ice: I
was proud
to hear the oracle so gracious to the blood of the Tarquins, and so I fell.
Sex. Nothing but so? then to the oracle.
I charge thee, Aruns,—Junius Brutus, thee,—
To keep the sacred doom of the oracle
From all our train, lest when the younger lad
Our brother, now at home, sits dandled
Upon fair Tullia's lap, this understanding,
May kiss our beauteous mother, and succeed.
Bru. Let the charge go round.
It shall go hard but I'll prevent you, Sextus.
Sex. I fear not the madman Brutus; and for Aruns, let me alone to
buckle with him: I'll be the first at my mother's lips for a kingdom.
Bru. If the madman have not been before you, Sextus. If oracles be
oracles, their phrases are mystical; they speak still in clouds. Had he meant
a
natural mother he would not ha' spoke it by circumstance.
Sex. Tullia, if ever thy lips were pleasing to me, let it be at my
return from the oracle.
Aruns. If a kiss will make me a king, Tullia, I will spring to thee,
though through the blood of Sextus.
Bru. Earth, I acknowledge no mother but thee; accept me as thy son,
and
I shall shine as bright in Rome as Apollo himself in his temple at Delphos.
Sex. Our superstitions ended, sacred priest,
Since we have had free answer from the gods,
To whose fair altars we have done due right,
And hallowed them with presents acceptable,
Let's now return, treading these holy measures
With which we entered great Apollo's temple.
Now, Phœbus, let thy sweet-tuned organs sound,
Whose sphere-like music must direct our feet
Upon the marble pavement. After this
We'll gain a kingdom by a mother's kiss. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—The Senate-house.
Enter TARQUIN, TULLIA, and COLLATINE, SCEVOLA, HORATIUS, LUCRETIUS,
VALERIUS, Nobles.
Tar. Attend us with your persons, but your ears
Be deaf unto our counsels.
[The Lords fall off on either side and attend.
Tul. Farther yet.
Tar. Now, Tullia, what must be concluded next?
Tul. The kingdom you have got by policy
You must maintain by pride.
Tar. Good.
Tul. Those that were late of the king's faction
Cut off, for fear they prove rebellious.
Tar. Better.
Tul. Since you gain nothing by the popular love,
Maintain by fear your princedom.
Tar. Excellent;
Thou art our oracle, and, save from thee,
We will admit no counsel. We obtained
Our state by cunning; it must be kept by strength;
And such as cannot love we'll teach to fear:
To encourage which, upon our better judgment,
And to strike greater terror to the world,
I have forbid thy father's funeral.
Tul. No matter.
Tar. All capital causes are by us discussed,
Traversed, and executed without counsel:
We challenge too, by our prerogative,
The goods of such as strive against our state;
The freest citizens, without attaint,
Arraign, or judgment, we to exile doom;
The poorer are our drudges, rich our prey,
And such as dare not strive our rule obey.
Tul. Kings are as gods, and divine sceptres bear;
The gods command, for mortal tribute, fear;
But, royal lord, we that despise their love,
Must seek some means how to maintain this awe.
Tar. By foreign leagues, and by our strength abroad.
Shall we, that are degreed above our people,
Whom Heaven hath made our vassals, reign with them?
No; kings, above the rest tribunaled high,
Should with no meaner than with kings ally:
For this we to Mamilius Tusculan,
The Latin king, ha' given in marriage
Our royal daughter; now his people's ours:
The neighbour princes are subdued by arms;
And whom we could not conquer by constraint,
Them we have sought to win by courtesy.
Kings that are proud, yet would secure their own,
By love abroad shall purchase fear at home.
Tul. We are secure, and yet our greatest strength
Is in our children: how dare treason look
Us in the face, having issue? Barren princes
Breed danger in their singularity;
Having none to succeed, their claim dies in them.
But when, in topping one, three Tarquins more,
Like hydras' heads, grow to revenge his death,
It terrifies black treason.
Tar. Tullia's wise
And apprehensive! Were our princely sons
Sextus and Aruns back returnèd safe,
With an applausive answer of the gods
From the oracle, our state were able then,
Being gods ourselves, to scorn the hate of men.
Enter SEXTUS, ARUNS, and BRUTUS.
Sex. Where's Tullia?
Aruns. Where's our mother?
Hor. Yonder, princes,
At council with the king.
Tul. Our sons returned!
Sex. Royal mother!
Aruns. Renowned queen!
Sex. I love her best,
Therefore will Sextus do his duty first.
Aruns. Being eldest in my birth, I'll not be youngest
In zeal to Tullia.
Bru. To't, lads!
Aruns. Mother, a kiss.
Sex. Though last in birth, let me be first in love.
A kiss, fair mother.
Aruns. Shall I lose my right?
Sex. Aruns shall down, were Aruns twice my brother,
If he presume 'fore me to kiss my mother.
Aruns. Ay, Sextus, think this kiss to be a crown, thus would we tug
for't.
Sex. Aruns, thou must down.
Tar. Restrain them, lords.
Bru. Nay, to't, boys! Oh, 'tis brave!
They tug for shadows, I the substance have.
Aruns. Through armèd gates, and thousand swords
To show my duty: let my valour speak. [I'll break
[Breaks from the Nobles and kisses her.
Sex. O Heavens! you have dissolved me.
Aruns. Here I stand,
What I ha' done to answer with this hand.
Sex. O all ye Delphian gods, look down and see
How for these wrongs I will revenged be!
Tar. Curb in the proud boys' fury; let us know
From whence this discord riseth.
Tul. From our love.
How happy are we in our issue now,
Whenas our sons even with their bloods contend
To exceed in duty! We accept your zeal:
This your superlative degree of kindness
So much prevails with us, that to the king
We engage our own dear love 'twixt his incensement
And your presumption; you are pardoned both.
And, Sextus, though you failed in your first proffer,
We do not yet esteem you least in love:
Ascend and touch our lips.
Sex. Thank you, no.
Tul. Then to thy knee we will descend thus low.
Sex. Nay, now it shall not need. How great's my heart!
Aruns. In Tarquin's crown thou now hast lost thy part.
Sex. No kissing now. Tarquin, great queen, adieu!
Aruns, on earth we ha' no foe but you.
Tar. What means this their unnatural enmity?
Tul. Hate, born from love.
Tar. Resolve us then, how did the gods accept
Our sacrifice? how are they pleased with us?
How long will they applaud our sovereignty?
Bru. Shall I tell the king?
Tar. Do, cousin, with the process of your journey.
Bru. I will. We went from hither when we went from hence, arrived
thither when we landed there, made an end of our prayers when we had done our
orisons, when thus quoth Phœbus: "Tarquin shall be happy whilst he is
blest, govern while he reigns, wake when he sleeps not, sleep when he wakes
not,
quaff when he drinks, feed when he eats, gape when his mouth opens, live
till he
die, and die when he can live no longer." So Phœbus commends him to you.
Tar. Mad Brutus still. Son Aruns, what say you?
Aruns. That the great gods, to whom the potent king
Of this large empire sacrificed by us,
Applaud your reign, commend your sovereignty:
And by a general synod grant to Tarquin
Long days, fair hopes, majestic government.
Bru. Adding withal, that to depose the late king, which in others had
been arch-treason, in Tarquin was honour; what in Brutus had been usurpation,
in
Tarquin was lawful succession; and for Tullia, though it be parricide for a
child to kill her father, in Tullia it was charity by death to rid him of all
his calamities.
Phœbus himself said she was a good child—and shall not
I say as he says?—to tread upon her father's skull,
Sparkle his brains upon her chariot-wheel,
And wear the sacred tincture of his blood
Upon her servile shoe. But more than this,
After his death deny him the due claim
Of all mortality, a funeral,
An earthen sepulchre—this, this, quoth the oracle,
Save Tullia none would do.
Tul. Brutus, no more,
Lest with the eyes of wrath and fury incensed
We look into thy humour: were not madness
And folly to thy words a privilege,
Even in thy last reproof of our proceedings
Thou hadst pronounced thy death.
Bru. If Tullia will send Brutus abroad for news, and after at his
return not endure the telling of it, let Tullia either get closer ears, or get
for Brutus a stricter tongue.
Tul. How, sir!
Bru. God be wi' ye. [Exit.
Tar. Alas, 'tis madness—pardon him—not spleen;
Nor is it hate, but frenzy. We are pleased
To hear the gods propitious to our prayers.
But whither's Sextus gone? resolve us, Cocles;
We saw thee in his parting follow him.
Hor. I heard him say, he would straight take his horse
And to the warlike Sabines, enemies
To Rome and you.
Tar. Save them we have no opposites.
Dares the proud boy confederate with our foes?
Attend us, lords; we must new battle wage,
And with bright arms confront the proud boy's rage.
[Exeunt all but LUCRETIUS, COLLATINE, HORATIUS, VALERIUS, and
SCEVOLA.
Hor. Had I as many souls as drops of blood
In these branched veins, as many lives as stars
Stuck in yond azure roof, and were to die
More deaths than I have wasted weary minutes
To grow to this, I'd hazard all and more
To purchase freedom to this bondaged Rome.
I'm vexed to see this virgin conqueress
Wear shackles in my sight.
Luc. Oh, would my tears
Would rid great Rome of these prodigious fears!
Re-enter BRUTUS.
Bru. What, weeping-ripe, Lucretius! possible? Now lords, lads,
friends,
fellows, young madcaps, gallants, and old courtly ruffians, all subjects under
one tyranny, and therefore should be partners of one and the same unanimity,
shall we go single ourselves by two and two, and go talk treason? then 'tis
but
his yea, and my nay, if we be called to question. Or shall's go use some
violent
bustling to break through this thorny servitude? or shall we every man go sit
like a man in desperation, and with Lucretius weep at Rome's misery. Now am I
for all things, anything, or nothing. I can laugh with Scevola, weep with this
good old man, sing "Oh hone hone" with Valerius, fret with Horatius Cocles, be
mad like myself, or neutrize with Collatine. Say, what shall's do?
Hor. Fret.
Val. Sing.
Luc. Weep.
Sce. Laugh.
Bru. Rather let's all be mad,
That Tarquin he still reigneth, Rome's still sad.
Col. You are madmen all that yield so much to passion;
You lay yourselves too open to your enemies,
That would be glad to pry into your deeds,
And catch advantage to ensnare our lives;
The king's fear, like a shadow, dogs you still,
Nor can you walk without it. I commend
Valerius most, and noble Scevola,
That what they cannot mend, seem not to mind.
By my consent let's all wear out our hours
In harmless sports: hawk, hunt, game, sing, drink, dance,
So shall we seem offenceless and live safe
In danger's bloody jaws: where being humorous,
Cloudy, and curiously inquisitive
Into the king's proceedings, there armed fear
May search into us, call our deeds to question,
And so prevent all future expectation
Of wished amendment. Let us stay the time,
Till Heaven have made them ripe for just revenge,
When opportunity is offered us,
And then strike home; till then do what you please:
No discontented thought my mind shall seize.
Bru. I am of Collatine's mind now. Valerius, sing us a bawdy song,
and
make's merry: nay, it shall be so.
Val. Brutus shall pardon me.
Sce. The time that should have been seriously spent in the
state-house,
I ha' learnt securely to spend in a wenching-house, and now I profess myself
anything but a statesman.
Hor. The more thy vanity.
Luc. The less thy honour.
Val. The more his safety, and the less his fear.
[Sings.] She that denies me, I would have;
Who craves me, I despise:
Venus hath power to rule mine heart,
But not to please mine eyes.
Temptations offered, I still scorn;
Denied, I cling them still.
I'll neither glut mine appetite,
Nor seek to starve my will.
Diana, double clothed, offends;
So Venus, naked quite:
The last begets a surfeit, and
The other no delight.
That crafty girl shall please me best
That no, for yea, can say,
And every wanton willing kiss
Can season with a nay.
Bru. We ha' been mad lords long, now let us be merry lords. Horatius,
maugre thy melancholy, and Lucretius, in spite of thy sorrow, I'll have a
song.
A subject for the ditty?
Hor. Great Tarquin's pride and Tullia's cruelty.
Bru. Dangerous; no.
Luc. The tyrannies of the court, and vassalage of the city.
Sce. Neither. Shall I give the subject?
Bru. Do, and let it be of all the pretty wenches in Rome.
Sce. It shall: shall it, shall it, Valerius?
Val. Anything according to my poor acquaintance and little
conversance.
Bru. Nay, you shall stay, Horatius; Lucretius, so shall
you; he removes
himself from the love of Brutus that shrinks from my side till we have had a
song of all the pretty suburbians: sit round. When, Valerius?
Val. [Sings] Shall I woo the lovely Molly,
She's so fair, so fat, so jolly?
But she has a trick of folly,
Therefore I'll ha' none of Molly.
No, no, no, no, no, no;
I'll have none of Molly, no, no, no.
Oh, the cherry lips of Nelly,
They are red and soft as jelly;
But too well she loves her belly,
Therefore I'll have none of Nelly.
No, no, &c.
What say you to bonny Betty?
Ha' you seen a lass so pretty?
But her body is so sweaty,
Therefore I'll ha' none of Betty.
No, no, &c.
When I dally with my Dolly,
She is full of melancholy;
Oh, that wench is pestilent holly;
Therefore I'll have none of Dolly.
No, no, &c.
I could fancy lovely Nanny,
But she has the loves of many,
Yet herself she loves not any,
Therefore I'll have none of Nanny.
No, no, &c.
In a flax shop I spied Rachel,
Where she her flax and tow did hatchel;
But her cheeks hang like a satchel,
Therefore I'll have none of Rachel.
No, no, &c.
In a corner I met Biddy,
Her heels were light, her head was giddy;
She fell down, and somewhat did I,
Therefore I'll have none of Biddy.
No, no, &c.
Bru. The rest we'll hear within. What offence is there in this,
Lucretius? what hurt's in this, Horatius? is it not better to sing with our
heads on than to bleed with our heads off? I ne'er took Collatine for a
politician till now. Come, Valerius; we'll run over all the wenches in Rome,
from the community of lascivious Flora to the chastity of divine Lucrece;
come,
good Horatius.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—A Room in the House of COLLATINE.
Enter LUCRECE, Maid, and Clown.
Lucrece. A chair.
Clown. A chair for my lady. Mistress Mirable, do you not hear my lady
call?
Lucrece. Come near, sir; be less officious
In duty, and use more attention.—
Nay, gentlewoman, we exempt not you
From our discourse, you must afford an ear
As well as he to what we ha' to say.
Maid. I still remain your handmaid.
Lucrece. Sirrah, I ha' seen you oft familiar
With this my maid and waiting gentlewoman,
As casting amorous glances, wanton looks,
And privy becks savouring incontinence:
I let you know you are not for my service
Unless you grow more civil.
Clown. Indeed, madam, for my own part I wish Mistress Mirable well,
as
one fellow servant ought to wish to another, but to say that ever I flung any
sheep's eyes in her face—how say you, Mistress Mirable, did I ever offer
it?
Lucrece. Nay, mistress, I ha' seen you answer him
With gracious looks and some uncivil smiles,
Retorting eyes, and giving his demeanour
Such welcome as becomes not modesty.
Know henceforth there shall no lascivious phrase,
Suspicious look, or shadow of incontinence,
Be entertained by any that attend
On Roman Lucrece.
Maid. Madam, I!
Lucrece. Excuse it not, for my premeditate thought
Speaks nothing out of rashness nor vain hearsay,
But what my own experience testifies
Against you both; let then this mild reproof
Forewarn you of the like: my reputation,
Which is held precious in the eyes of Rome,
Shall be no shelter to the least intent
Of looseness; leave all familiarity,
And quite renounce acquaintance, or I here
Discharge you both my service.
Clown. For my own part, madam, as I am a true Roman by nature, though
no Roman by my nose, I never spent the least lip-labour on Mistress Mirable,
never so much as glanced, never used any winking or pinking, never nodded at
her—no, not so much as when I was asleep; never asked her the question so
much as what's her name: if you can bring any man, woman, or child, that can
say
so much behind my back as "For he did but kiss her, for I did but kiss her,
and
so let her go," let my Lord Collatine, instead of plucking my coat, pluck my
skin over my ears and turn me away naked, that wheresoever I shall come I
may be
held a raw serving-man hereafter.
Lucrece. Sirrah, you know our mind.
Clown. If ever I knew what belongs to these cases, or yet know what
they mean; if ever I used any plain dealing, or were ever worth such a jewel,
would I might die like a beggar! If ever I were so far read in my grammar as to
know what an interjection is, or a conjunction copulative, would I might never
have good of my qui quœ quod! Why, do you think, madam, I have no
more
care of myself, being but a stripling, than to go to it at these years? Flesh
and blood cannot endure it; I shall even spoil one of the best faces in Rome
with crying at your unkindness.
Lucrece. I ha' done. See if you can spy your lord returning from the
court, and give me notice what strangers he brings home with him.
Clown. Yes, I'll go: but see, kind man, he saves me a labour.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.—Outside the House of COLLATINE.
Enter COLLATINE, VALERIUS, HORATIUS, and SCEVOLA.
Hor. Come, Valerius, let's hear, in our way to the house of
Collatine,
that you went late hammering of concerning the taverns in Rome.
Val. Only this, Horatius.
[Sings] The gentry to the King's Head,
The nobles to the Crown,
The knights unto the Golden Fleece,
And to the Plough the clown;
The churchman to the Mitre,
The shepherd to the Star,
The gardener hies him to the Rose,
To the Drum the man of war;
To the Feathers ladies you; the Globe
The sea-man doth not scorn;
The usurer to the Devil, and
The townsman to the Horn;
The huntsman to the White Hart,
To the Ship the merchants go;
But you that do the Muses love
The sign called River Po.
The banquerout to the World's End,
The fool to the Fortune hie;
Unto the Mouth the oyster-wife,
The fiddler to the Pie,
The punk unto the Cockatrice,
The drunkard to the Vine,
The beggar to the Bush, then meet
And with Duke Humphrey dine.
Enter LUCRECE and Clown.
Col. Fair Lucrece, I ha' brought these lords from court
To feast with thee. [To Clown] Sirrah, prepare us dinner. [Exit Clown.
Lucrece. My lord is welcome, so are all his friends.
The news at court, lords?
Hor. Madam, strange news:
Prince Sextus by the enemies of Rome
Was nobly used, and made their general;
Twice hath he met his father in the field,
And foiled him by the warlike Sabines' aid:
But how hath he rewarded that brave nation,
That in his great disgrace supported him?
I'll tell you, madam: he since the last battle
Sent to his father a close messenger
To be received to grace, withal demanding
What he should do with those his enemies.
Great Tarquin from his son receives this news,
Being walking in his garden; when the messenger
Importuned him for answer, the proud king
Lops with his wand the heads of poppies off,
And says no more; with this uncertain answer
The messenger to Sextus back returns,
Who questions of his father's words, looks, gesture:
He tells him that the haughty speechless king
Did to the heads of poppies, which bold Sextus
Straight apprehends, cuts off the great men's heads,
And, having left the Sabines without govern,
Flies to his father, and this day is welcomed
For this his traitorous service by the king,
With all due solemn honours to the court.
Sce. Courtesy strangely requited; this none but the son of Tarquin
would have enterprised.
Val. I like it, I applaud it; this will come to somewhat in the end;
when Heaven has cast up his account, some of them will be called to a hard
reckoning. For my part, I dreamt last night I went a-fishing.
[Sings.] Though the weather jangles
With our hooks and our angles,
Our nets be shaken, and no fish taken;
Though fresh cod and whiting
Are not this day biting,
Gurnet, nor conger, to satisfy hunger,
Yet look to our draught.
Hale the main bowling;
The seas have left their rolling,
The waves their huffing, the winds their puffing:
Up to the top-mast, boy,
And bring us news of joy;
Here's no demurring, no fish is stirring,
Yet something we have caught.
Col. Leave all to Heaven.
Re-enter Clown.
Clown. My lords, the best plum-porridge in all Rome cools for your
honours; dinner is piping hot upon the table, and if you make not the more
haste
you are like to have but cold cheer: the cook hath done his part, and there's
not a dish on the dresser but he has made it smoke for you; if you have good
stomachs, and come not in while the meat is hot, you'll make hunger and cold
meet together.
Col. My man's a rhetorician, I can tell you,
And his conceit is fluent. Enter, lords;
You must be Lucrece' guests, and she is scant
In nothing, for such princes must not want.
[Exeunt all except VALERIUS and Clown.
Clown. My lord Valerius, I have even a suit to your honour. I ha' not
the power to part from you without a relish, a note, a tone; we must get an
air
betwixt us.
Val. Thy meaning?
Clown. Nothing but this.
[Sings.] John for the king has been in many ballads,
John for the king down dino,
John for the king has eaten many salads,
John for the king sings hey ho.
Val. Thou wouldst have a song, wouldst thou not?
Clown. And be everlastingly bound to your honour. I am now forsaking
the world and the devil, and somewhat leaning towards the flesh; if you could
but teach me how to choose a wench fit for my stature and complexion, I should
rest yours in all good offices.
Val. I'll do that for thee. What's thy name?
Clown. My name, sir, is Pompey.
Val. Well then, attend.
[Sings.] Pompey, I will show thee the way to know
A dainty dapper wench.
First see her all bare, let her skin be rare,
And be touched with no part of the French.
Let her eye be clear, and her brows severe,
Her eye-brows thin and fine;
But if she be a punk, and love to be drunk,
Then keep her still from the wine.
Let her stature be mean, and her body clean,
Thou canst not choose but like her;
But see she ha' good clothes, with a fair Roman nose,
For that's the sign of a striker.
Let her legs be small, but not used to sprawl,
Her tongue not too loud nor cocket
Let her arms be strong, and her fingers long,
But not used to dive in pocket.
Let her body be long, and her back be strong,
With a soft lip that entangles,
With an ivory breast, and her hair well dressed
Without gold lace or spangles.
Let her foot be small, clean-legged withal,
Her apparel not too gaudy;
And one that hath not been in any house of sin,
Nor place that hath been bawdy.
Clown. But, God's me! am I trifling her with you, and dinner cools o'
the table, and I am called to my attendance! O my sweet Lord Valerius!
[Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.—The Senate-house.
Enter TARQUIN, PORSENNA, TULLIA, SEXTUS, and ARUNS.
TAR. Next King Porsenna, whom we tender dearly,
Welcome, young Sextus! thou hast to our yoke
Suppressed the neck of a proud nation,
The warlike Sabines, enemies to Rome.
Sex. It was my duty, royal emperor,
The duty of a subject and a son.
We at our mother's intercession likewise
Are now atoned with Aruns, whom we here
Receive into our bosom.
Tul. This is done
Like a kind brother and a natural son.
Aruns. We interchange a royal heart with Sextus,
And graft us in your love.
Tar. Now, King Porsenna,
Welcome once more to Tarquin and to Rome.
Por. We are proud of your alliance: Rome is ours,
And we are Rome's; this our religious league
Shall be carved firm in characters of brass,
And live for ever to succeeding times.
Tar. It shall, Porsenna. Now this league's established,
We will proceed in our determined wars,
To bring the neighbour nations under us.
Our purpose is to make young Sextus general
Of all our army, who hath proved his fortunes,
And found them full of favour. We'll begin
With strong Ardea;—ha' you given in charge
To assemble all our captains, and take muster
Of our strong army?
Aruns. That business is dispatched.
Sex. We have likewise sent
For all our best commanders, to take charge
According to their merit,—Lord Valerius,
Lord Brutus, Cocles, Mutius Scevola,
And Collatine,—to make due preparation
For such a gallant siege.
Tar. This day you shall set forward. Sextus, go,
And let us see your army march along
Before this king and us, that we may view
The puissance of our host prepared already
To lay high-reared Ardea waste and low.
Sex. I shall, my liege.
Tul. Aruns, associate him.
Aruns. A rival with my brother in his honours.
[Exeunt ARUNS and SEXTUS.
Tar. Porsenna shall behold the strength of Rome,
And body of the camp, under the charge
Of two brave princes, to lay hostile siege
Against the strongest city that withstands
The all-commanding Tarquin.
Por. 'Tis an object
To please Porsenna's eye. [Soft march.
Luc. The host is now
Upon their march. You from this place may see
The pride of all the Roman chivalry.
Enter SEXTUS, ARUNS, BRUTUS, COLLATINE, VALERIUS, SCEVOLA, COCLES,
with
Soldiers, drum and colours. They march over the stage, and congee to the
King and Queen.
Por. This sight's more pleasing to Porsenna's eye
Than all our rich Attalia's pompous feasts
Or sumptuous revels: we are born a soldier,
And in our nonage sucked the milk of war.
Should any strange fate lour upon this army,
Or that the merciless gulf of confusion
Should swallow them, we, at our proper charge,
And from our native confines, vow supply
Of men and arms to make these numbers full.
Tar. You are our royal brother, and in you
Tarquin is powerful and maintains his awe.
Tul. The like Porsenna may command of Rome.
Por. But we have in your fresh varieties
Feasted too much, and kept ourself too long
From our own seat: our prosperous return
Hath been expected by our lords and peers.
Tar. The business of our wars thus forwarded,
We ha' best leisure for your entertainment,
Which now shall want no due solemnity.
Por. It hath been beyond both expectation
And merit; but in sight of Heaven I swear,
If ever royal Tarquin shall demand
Use of our love, 'tis ready stored for you
Even in our kingly breast.
Tar. The like we vow
To King Porsenna. We will yet a little
Enlarge your royal welcome with rarities,
Such as Rome yields: that done, before we part,
Of two remote dominions make one heart.
Set forward then. Our sons wage war abroad,
To make us peace at home: we are of ourself,
Without supportance; we all fate defy:
Aidless, and of ourself, we stand thus high. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The Camp before Ardea.
Enter two Soldiers meeting as in the watch.
1st Sol. Stand, who goes there?
2nd Sol. A friend.
1st Sol. Stir not, for if thou dost I'll broach thee straight upon thi
s
pike. The word?
2nd Sol. Porsenna.
1st Sol. Pass;—stay, who walks the round to-night? the general,
or
any of his captains?
2nd Sol. Horatius hath the charge; the other chieftains
Rest in the general's tent; there's no commander
Of any note, but revel with the prince:
And I amongst the rest am charged to attend
Upon their rouse.
1st Sol. Pass freely; I this night must stand 'twixt them and danger.
The time of night?
2nd Sol. The clock last told eleven.
1st Sol. The powers celestial
That have took Rome in charge, protect it still!
Again good-night. [Exit 2nd Soldier.] Thus must poor
soldiers do;
Whilst their commanders are with dainties fed,
And sleep on down, the earth must be our bed. [Exit.
SCENE III.—Inside SEXTUS'S Tent. A banquet prepared.
Enter SEXTUS, ARUNS, BRUTUS, VALERIUS, HORATIUS, SCEVOLA, and
COLLATINE.
Sex. Sit round: the enemy is pounded fast
In their own folds; the walls made to oppugn
Hostile incursions become a prison,
To keep them fast for execution;
There's no eruption to be feared.
Bru. What shall's do? Come, a health to the general's health; and
Valerius, that sits the most civilly, shall begin it; I cannot talk till my
blood be mingled with this blood of grapes. Fill for Valerius. Thou shouldst
drink well, for thou hast been in the German wars; if thou lovest me, drink
upse freeze.
Sex. Nay, since Brutus has spoke the word, the first health shall be
imposed on you, Valerius; and if ever you have been Germanized, let
it be after
the Dutch fashion.
Val. The general may command.
Bru. He may; why else is he called the commander?
Sex. We will entreat Valerius.
Val. Since you will needs enforce a high-German health, look well to
your heads, for I come upon you with this Dutch tassaker: if you were of a
more noble science than you are, it will go near to break your heads round.
[Sings a Dutch song.]
O mork giff men ein man,
Skerry merry vip,
O mork giff men ein man
Skerry merry vap.
O mork giff men ein man,
That tik die ten long o drievan can,
Skerry merry vip, and skerry merry vap,
And skerry merry runke ede bunk,
Ede hoore was a hai dedle downe
Dedle drunke a:
Skeery merry runke ede bunk, ede hoor was drunk a.
O daughter yeis ein alto kleene,
Skerry merry vip,
O daughter yeis ein alto kleene,
Skerry merry vap.
O daughter yeis ein alto kleene,
Ye molten slop, ein yert aleene
Skeery merry vip, and skerry merry vap
And skerry merry runk ede bunk,
Ede hoore was a hey dedle downe
Dedle drunke a:
Skeery merry, runk ede bunk, ede hoor was drunk a.
Sex. Gramercies, Valerius; came this high-German health as double as
his double ruff, I'd pledge it.
Bru. Were it in Lubeck or double-double beer, their own
natural liquor,
I'd pledge it were it as deep as his ruff: let the health go round about the
board, as his band goes round about his neck. I am no more
afraid of this Dutch
fashion than I should be of the heathenish invention.
Col. I must entreat you spare me, for my brain
brooks not the fumes of
wine; their vaporous strength offends me much.
Hor. I would have none spare me, for I'll spare none. Collatine will
pledge no health unless it be to his Lucrece.
Sex. What's Lucrece but a woman? and what are women
But tortures and disturbance unto men?
If they be foul they're odious, and if fair,
They're like rich vessels full of poisonous drugs,
Or like black serpents armed with golden scales:
For my own part, they shall not trouble me.
Bru. Sextus, sit fast; for I proclaim myself a woman's champion, and
shall unhorse thee else.
Val. For my own part, I'm a married man, and I'll speak to my wife to
thank thee, Brutus.
Aruns. I have a wife too, and I think the most virtuous lady in the
world.
Sce I cannot say but that I have a good wife too, and I love her: but
if she were in heaven, beshrew me if I would wish her so much hurt as to
desire
her company upon earth again; yet, upon my honour, though she be not
very fair,
she is exceeding honest.
Bru. Nay, the less beauty, the less temptation to despoil
her honesty.
Sce. I should be angry with him that should make question of her
honour.
Bru. And I angry with thee if thou shouldst not maintain her honour.
Aruns. If you compare the virtues of your wives, let me step in for
mine.
Col. I should wrong my Lucrece not to stand for her.
Sex. Ha, ha! all captains, and stand upon the honesty of your wives!
Is't possible, think you,
That women of young spirit and full age,
Of fluent wit, that can both sing and dance,
Read, write, such as feed well and taste choice cates,
That straight dissolve to purity of blood,
That keep the veins full, and inflame the appetite,
Making the spirit able, strong, and prone,—
Can such as these, their husbands being away
Employed in foreign sieges or elsewhere,
Deny such as importune them at home?
Tell me that flax will not be touched with fire,
Nor they be won to what they most desire!
Bru. Shall I end this controversy in a word?
Sex. Do, good Brutus.
Bru. I hold some holy, but some apt to sin;
Some tractable, but some that none can win;
Such as are virtuous, gold nor wealth can move;
Some vicious of themselves are prone to love;
Some grapes are sweet and in the garden grow,
Others unpruned turn wild neglected so;
The purest ore contains both gold and dross,
The one all gain, the other nought but loss;
The one disgrace, reproach, and scandal taints,
The other angels and sweet-featured saints.
Col. Such is my virtuous Lucrece.
Aruns. Yet she for virtue is not comparable to the wife of Aruns.
Sce. And why may not mine be ranked with the most virtuous?
Hor. I would put in for a lot, but a thousand to one I shall draw but
a
blank.
Val. I should not show I loved my wife, not to take her part in her
absence: I hold her inferior to none.
Aruns. Save mine.
Val. No, not to her.
Bru. Oh, this were a brave controversy for a jury of women to
arbitrate!
Col. I'll hazard all my fortunes on the virtues
Of divine Lucrece. Shall we try them thus?
It is now dead of night; let's mount our steeds;
Within this two hours we may reach to Rome,
And to our houses all come unprepared,
And unexpected by our high-praised wives.
She of them all that we find best employed,
Devoted, and most huswife-exercised,
Let her be held most virtuous, and her husband
Win by the wager a rich horse and armour.
Aruns. A hand on that.
Val. Here's a helping hand to that bargain.
Hor. But shall we to horse without circumstance?
Sce. Scevola will be mounted with the first.
Sex. Then mount cheval! Brutus, this night take you the charge of the
army. I'll see the trial of this wager. 'twould do me good to see some of them
find their wives in the arms of their lovers, they are so confident in their
virtues. Brutus, we'll interchange goodnight; be thou but as provident o'er
the
army as we (if our horses fail not) expeditious in our journey. To horse, to
horse!
All. Farewell, good Brutus. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.— A Room in the House of COLLATINE.
Enter LUCRECE and her two Maids.
Lucrece. But one hour more, and you shall all to rest.
Now that your lord is absent from this house,
And that the master's eye is from his charge,
We must be careful, and with providence
Guide his domestic business; we ha' now
Given o'er all feasting and left revelling,
Which ill becomes the house whose lord is absent;
We banish all excess till his return,
In fear of whom my soul doth daily mourn.
1st Maid. Madam, so please you to repose yourself
Within your chamber; leave us to our tasks;
We will not loiter, though you take your rest.
Lucrece. Not so; you shall not overwatch yourselves
Longer than I wake with you; for it fits
Good huswives, when their husbands are from home,
To eye their servants' labours, and in care
And the true manage of his household state,
Earliest to rise, and to be up most late.
Since all his business he commits to me,
I'll be his faithful steward till the camp
Dissolve, and he return; thus wives should do,
In absence of their lords be husbands too.
2and Maid. Madam, the Lord Turnus his man was thrice for you here, to
have entreated you home to supper; he says his lord takes it unkindly he could
not have your company.
Lucrece. To please a loving husband, I'll offend
The love and patience of my dearest friend.
Methinks his purpose was unreasonable,
To draw me in my husband's absence forth
To feast and banquet; 'twould have ill become me
To have left the charge of such a spacious house
Without both lord and mistress.
I am opinioned thus: wives should not stray
Out of their doors, their husbands being away.
Lord Turnus shall excuse me.
1st Maid. Pray, madam, set me right into my work.
Lucrece. Being abroad, I may forget the charge
Imposed me by my lord, or be compelled
To stay out late, which, were my husband here,
Might be without distaste, but he from hence,
With late abroad, there can no excuse dispense.
Here, take your work again, a while proceed,
And then to bed; for whilst you sew I'll read. [They retire.
Enter SEXTUS, ARUNS, VALERIUS, COLLATINE, HORATIUS, and SCEVOLA.
Aruns. I would have hazarded all my hopes, my wife had not been so
late
a-revelling.
Val. Nor mine at this time of night a-gambolling.
Hor. They wear so much cork under their heels, they cannot choose but
love to caper.
Sce. Nothing does me good, but that if my wife were watching, all
theirs were wantoning, and if I ha' lost, none can brag of their winnings.
Sex. Now, Collatine, to yours; either Lucrece must be better employed
than the rest, or you content to have her virtues rank with the rest.
Col. I am pleased.
Hor. Soft, soft, let's steal upon her as upon the rest, lest having
some watch-word at our arrival, we may give her notice to be better prepared:
nay, by your leave, Collatine, we'll limit you no advantage.
Col. See, lords, thus Lucrece revels with her maids:
Instead of riot, quaffing, and the practice
Of high lavoltoes to the ravishing sound
Of chambering music, she, like a good huswife,
Is teaching of her servants sundry chares.—
Lucrece!
Lucrece. [Coming forward.] My lord and husband, welcome, ten
times
welcome.
Is it to see your Lucrece you thus late
Ha' with your person's hazard left the camp,
And trusted to the danger of a night
So dark, and full of horror?
Aruns. Lords, all's lost.
Hor. By Jove, I'll buy my wife a wheel, and make her spin for this
trick.
Sce. If I make not mine learn to live by the prick of her needle for
this, I'm no Roman.
Col. Sweet wife, salute these lords; thy continence
Hath won thy husband a Barbarian horse
And a rich coat of arms.
Lucrece. Oh, pardon me; the joy to see my lord
Took from me all respect of their degrees.
The richest entertainment lives with us,
According to the hour, and the provision
Of a poor wife in the absence of her husband,
We prostrate to you; howsoever mean,
We thus excuse't,—Lord Collatine away,
We neither feast, dance, quaff, riot, nor play.
Sex. If one woman among so many bad may be found good, if a
white wench
may prove a black swan, it is Lucrece; her beauty hath relation to her virtue,
and her virtue correspondent to her beauty, and in both she is matchless.
Col. Lords, will you yield the wager?
Aruns. Stay, the wager was as well which of our wives was fairest
too;
it stretched as well to their beauty as to their continence. Who shall judge
that?
Hor. That can none of us, because we are all parties. Let Prince
Sextus
determine it, who hath been with us, and been an eye-witness of their
beauties.
Val. Agreed.
Sce. I am pleased with the censure of Prince Sextus.
Aruns. So are we all.
Col. I commit my Lucrece wholly to the dispose of Sextus.
Sex. And Sextus commits him wholly to the dispose of Lucrece.
I love the lady and her grace desire,
Nor can my love wrong what my thoughts admire.
Aruns, no question but your wife is chaste
And thrifty, but this lady knows no waste.
Valerius, yours is modest, something fair;
Her grace and beauty are without compare.
Thine, Mutius, well disposed, and of good feature,
But the world yields not so divine a creature.
Horatius, thine a smug lass and graced well,
But amongst all, fair Lucrece doth excel.
Then our impartial heart and judging eyes
This verdict gives,—fair Lucrece wins the prize.
Col. Then, lords, you are indebted to me a horse and armour.
All. We yield it.
Lucrece. Will you taste such welcome, lords, as a poor
unprovided house
can yield?
Sex. Gramercy, Lucrece, no; we must this night sleep by Ardea walls.
Lucrece. But, my lords, I hope my Collatine will not so leave his
Lucrece.
Sex. He must: we have but idled from the camp, to try a merry wager
about their wives, and this at the hazard of the King's displeasure, should
any
man be missing from his charge. The powers that govern Rome make divine
Lucrece
for ever happy! Good-night.
Sce. But, Valerius, what thinkest thou of the country girls
from whence
we came, compared with our city wives whom we this night have tried?
Val. Scevola, thou shalt hear.
[Sings.] O yes, room for the crier,
Who never yet was found a liar!
O ye fine smug country lasses,
That would for brooks change crystal glasses,
And be transhaped from foot to crown,
And straw-beds change for beds of down;
Your partlets turn into rebatoes,
And 'stead of carrots eat potatoes;
Your frontlets lay by, and your rails,
And fringe with gold your daggled tails:
Now your hawk-noses shall have hoods
And billements with golden studs;
Straw-hats shall be no more bongraces
From the bright sun to hide your faces;
For hempen smocks to help the itch,
Have linen, sewed with silver stitch;
And wheresoe'er they chance to stride,
One bare before to be their guide.
O yes, room for the crier,
Who never yet was found a liar!
Lucrece. Will not my husband repose this night with me?
Hor. Lucrece shall pardon him: we ha' took our leaves of our wives,
nor
shall Collatine be before us, though our ladies in other things come behind
you.
Col. I must be swayed: the joys and the delights
Of many thousand nights meet all in one,
To make my Lucrece happy!
Lucrece. I am bound to your strict will. To each goodnight.
Sex. To horse, to horse! [Aside.] Lucrece, we cannot rest
Till our hot lust embosom in thy breast.
[Exeunt all but. LUCRECE.
Lucrece. With no unkindness we should our lords upbraid;
Husbands and kings must always be obeyed.
Nothing save the high business of the state,
And the charge given him at Ardea's siege,
Could ha' made Collatine so much digress
From the affection that he bears his wife;
But subjects must excuse when kings claim power.
But, leaving this, before the charm of sleep
Seize with his downy wings upon my eyes,
I must go take account among my servants
Of their day's task; we must not cherish sloth.
No covetous thought makes me thus provident,
But to shun idleness, which, wise men say,
Begets rank lust, and virtue beats away. [Exit.
SCENE V.—The Road to Ardea.
Enter SEXTUS, ARUNS, HORATIUS, BRUTUS, SCEVOLA, and VALERIUS.
Hor. Return to Rome now we are in the midway to the camp!
Sex. My lords, 'tis business that concerns my life:
To-morrow, if we live, we'll visit thee.
Val. Will Sextus enjoin me to accompany him?
Sce. Or me?
Sex. Nor you, nor any: 'tis important business
And serious occurrences that call me.
Perhaps, lords, I'll commend you to your wives.
Collatine, shall I do you any service to your Lucrece?
Col. Only commend me.
Sex. What, no private token to purchase our kind welcome?
Col. Would royal Sextus would but honour me
To bear her a slight token.
Sex. What?
Col. This ring.
Sex. As I am royal I will see't delivered.
[Aside.] This ring to Lucrece shall my love convey,
And in this gift thou dost thy bed betray.
To-morrow we shall meet.—This night, sweet fate,
May I prove welcome, though a guest ingrate! [Exit.
Aruns. He's for the city, we for the camp. The night makes the way
tedious and melancholy; prithee a merry song to beguile it.
Val. [Sings.] There was a young man and a maid fell in love,
Terry derry ding, terry derry ding, terry derry dino.
To get her good will he often did—
Terry derry ding, terry derry ding, langtido dille.
There's many will say, and most will allow,
Terry derry ding, terry derry ding, &c.,
There's nothing so good as a terry derry ding, &c.
I would wish all maids before they be sick,
Terry, derry, &c.
To inquire for a young man that has a good—
Terry derry, &c.
Sce. Nay, my lord, I heard them all have a conceit of an
Englishman—a strange people, in the western islands—one that for his
variety in habit, humour, and gesture, puts down all other nations whatsoever;
a
little of that, if you love me.
Val. Well, Scevola, you shall.
[Sings.] The Spaniard loves his ancient slop,
The Lombard his Venetian,
And some like breechless women go—
The Russ, Turk, Jew, and Grecian;
The thrifty Frenchman wears small waist,
The Dutch his belly boasteth;
The Englishman is for them all,
And for each fashion coasteth.
The Turk in linen wraps his head,
The Persian his in lawn too;
The Russ with sables furs his cap,
And change will not be drawn to;
The Spaniard's constant to his block;
The French, inconstant ever;
But, of all felts that can be felt,
Give me your English beaver.
The German loves his cony-wool,
The Irishman his shag too;
The Welsh his monmouth loves to wear,
And of the same will brag too;
Some love the rough, and some the smooth,
Some great, and others small things;
But oh, your lecherous Englishman,
He loves to deal in all things.
The Russ drinks quass; Dutch, Lubeck beer,
And that is strong and mighty;
The Briton, he metheglin quaffs;
The Irish, aquavitæ;
The French affects the Orleans grape,
The Spaniard tastes his sherry;
The English none of these can scape,
But he with all makes merry.
The Italian in her high chapine,
Scotch lass, and lovely frau too,
The Spanish donna, French madame,
He will not fear to go to;
Nothing so full of hazard dread,
Nought lives above the centre,
No fashion, health, no wine, nor wench,
On which he dare not venture.
Hor. Good Valerius, this has brought us even to the skirts of the
camp.
Enter, lords. [Exeunt.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.—A Room in the House of COLLATINE.
Enter SEXTUS, LUCRECE and Attendants.
LUCRECE. This ring, my lord, hath oped the gates to you;
For, though I know you for a royal prince,
My sovereign's son, and friend to Collatine,
Without that key you had not entered here.—
More lights, and see a banquet straight provided.
My love to my dear husband shall appear
In the kind welcome that I give his friend.
Sex. [Aside.] Not love-sick, but love-lunatic, love-mad:
I am all fire, impatience, and my blood
Boils in my heart, with loose and sensual thoughts.
[Enter Servants, who set out a banquet.
Lucrece. A chair for the prince.
May't please your highness sit?
Sex. Madam, with you.
Lucrece. It will become the wife of Collatine
To wait upon your trencher.
Sex. You shall sit:
Behind us at the camp we left our state;
We are but your guest—indeed, you shall not wait.
[Aside.] Her modesty hath such strong power o'er me,
And such a reverence hath fate given her brow,
That it appears a kind of blasphemy
To have any wanton word harsh in her ears.
I cannot woo, and yet I love 'bove measure;
'Tis force, not suit, must purchase this rich treasure.
Lucrece. Your highness cannot taste such homely cates?
Sex. Indeed, I cannot feed. [Aside.] But on thy face:
Thou art the banquet that my thoughts embrace.
Lucrece. Knew you, my lord, what free and zealous welcome
We tender you, your highness would presume
Upon your entertainment. Oft, and many times,
I have heard my husband speak of Sextus' valour,
Extol your worth, praise your perfection,
Ay, dote upon your valour, and your friendship
Prize next his Lucrece.
Sex. [Aside.] O impious lust,
In all things base, respectless, and unjust!
Thy virtue, grace, and fame I must enjoy,
Though in the purchase I all Rome destroy.—
Madam, if I be welcome as your virtue
Bids me presume I am, carouse to me
A health unto your husband.
Lucrece. A woman's draught, my lord, to Collatine!
Sex. Nay, you must drink off all.
Lucrece. Your grace must pardon
The tender weakness of a woman's brain.
Sex. It is to Collatine.
Lucrece. Methinks 'twould ill become the modesty
Of any Roman lady to carouse,
And drown her virtues in the juice of grapes.
How can I show my love unto my husband
To do his wife such wrong? By too much wine
I might neglect the charge of this great house
Left solely to my keep; else my example
Might in my servants breed encouragement
So to offend, both which were pardonless;
Else to your grace I might neglect my duty,
And slack obeisance to so great a guest;
All which being accidental unto wine,
Oh, let me not so wrong my Collatine!
Sex. We excuse you. [Aside.] Her perfections, like a torrent
With violence breaks upon me, and at once
Inverts and swallows all that's good in me.
Preposterous Fates, what mischiefs you involve
Upon a caitiff prince, left to the fury
Of all grand mischief! hath the grandame world
Yet mothered such a strange abortive wonder,
That from her virtues should arise my sin?
I am worse than what's most ill, deprived all reason,
My heart all fiery lust, my soul all treason.
Lucrece. My lord, I fear your health, your changing brow
Hath shown so much disturbance. Noble Sextus,
Hath not your venturous travel from the camp,
Nor the moist rawness of this humorous night
Impaired your health?
Sex. Divinest Lucrece, no. I cannot eat.
Lucrece. To rest then.—
A rank of torches, there, attend the prince!
Sex. Madam, I doubt I am a guest this night
Too troublesome, and I offend your rest.
Lucrece. This ring speaks for me, that next Collatine
You are to me most welcome; yet, my lord,
Thus much presume,—without this from his hand,
Sextus this night could not have entered here;
No, not the king himself.
My doors the daytime to my friends are free,
But in the night the obdure gates are less kind;
Without this ring they can no entrance find.—
Lights for the prince!
Sex. A kiss, and so good-night—nay, for your ring's sake,
deny not
that.
Lucrece. Jove give your highness soft and sweet repose!
Sex. And thee the like, with soft and sweet content!—
My vows are fixed, my thoughts on mischief bent. [Exit.
Lucrece. 'Tis late; so many stars shine in this room,
By reason of this great and princely guest,
The world might call our modesty in question,
To revel thus, our husband at the camp.
Haste, and to rest; save in the prince's chamber,
Let not a light appear.—My heart's all sadness.
Jove, unto thy protection I commit
My chastity and honour; to thy keep
My waking soul I give, whilst my thoughts sleep. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—Another Room in the same.
Enter Clown and a Serving-man.
Clown. Soft, soft; not too loud; imagine we were now going on
the ropes
with eggs at our heels; he that hath but a creaking shoe I would he
had a crick
in his neck; tread not too hard for disturbing Prince Sextus.
Ser. I wonder the prince would ha' none of us stay in his chamber and
help him to bed.
Clown. What an ass art thou to wonder! there may be many causes: thou
know'st the prince is a soldier, and soldiers many times want shift: who can
say
whether he have a clean shirt on or no? for any thing that we know he hath
used
staves-acre o' late, or hath ta'en a medicine to kill the itch. What's that
to us? we did our duty to proffer our service.
Ser. And what should we enter farther into his thoughts? Come,
shall's
to bed? I am as drowsy as a dormouse, and my head is as heavy as though I had a
night-cap of lead on.
Clown. And my eyes begin to glue themselves together. I was till
supper
was done altogether for your repast, and now after supper I am only for your
repose: I think, for the two virtues of eating and sleeping, there's never a
Roman spirit under the cope of Heaven can put me down.
Enter MIRABLE.
Mir. For shame! What a conjuring and caterwauling keep you here, that
my lady cannot sleep! you shall have her call by, and send you all to bed with
a
witness.
Clown. Sweet Mistress Mirable, we are going.
Mir. You are too loud; come, every man dispose him to his rest, and
I'll to mine.
Ser. Out with your torches.
Clown. Come, then, and every man sneak into his kennel. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—LUCRECE'S Bedchamber.
Enter SEXTUS, with a drawn sword and a lighted taper.
Sex. Night, be as secret as thou art close, as close
As thou art black and dark! thou ominous queen
Of tenebrous silence, make this fatal hour
As true to rape as thou hast made it kind
To murder and harsh mischief! Cynthia mask thy cheek,
And, all you sparkling elemental fires,
Choke up your beauties in prodigious fogs,
Or be extinct in some thick vaporous clouds,
Lest you behold my practice! I am bound
Upon a black adventure, on a deed
That must wound virtue, and make beauty bleed.
Pause, Sextus, and, before thou runn'st thyself
Into this violent danger, weigh thy sin.
Thou art yet free, beloved, graced in the camp,
Of great opinion and undoubted hope,
Rome's darling, in the universal grace
Both of the field and Senate, where these fortunes
Do make thee great in both. Back! yet thy fame
Is free from hazard, and thy style from shame.
O Fate! thou hast usurped such power o'er man
That where thou plead'st thy will no mortal can.
On then, black mischief! hurry me the way;
Myself I must destroy, her life betray;
The hate of king and subject, the displeasure
Of prince and people, the revenge of noble,
And the contempt of base, the incurred vengeance
Of my wronged kinsman Collatine, the treason
Against divinest Lucrece—all these total curses,
Foreseen not feared, upon one Sextus meet,
To make my days harsh—so this night be sweet!
No jar of clock, no ominous hateful howl
Of any starting hound, no horse-cough breathed from the entrails
Of any drowsy groom, wakes this charmed silence
And starts this general slumber. Forward still:
To make thy lust live, all thy virtues kill.
[He draws a curtain; LUCRECE is discovered in bed.
Here, here, behold! beneath these curtains lies
That bright enchantress that hath dazed my eyes.
Oh, who but Sextus could commit such waste
On one so fair, so kind, so truly chaste?
Or like a ravisher thus rudely stand
To offend this face, this brow, this lip, this hand?
Or at such fatal hours these revels keep,
With thought once to defile thy innocent sleep?
Save in this breast, such thoughts could find no place,
Or pay with treason her kind hospitable grace;
But I am lust-burnt all, bent on what's bad,
That which should calm good thought makes Tarquin mad.—
Madam! Lucrece!
Lucrece. Who's that? O me! beshrew you!
Sex. Sweet. 'tis I.
Lucrece. What I?
Sex. Make room.
Lucrece. My husband Collatine?
Sex. Thy husband's at the camp.
Lucrece. Here is no place for any man save him.
Sex. Grant me that grace.
Lucrece. What are you?
Sex. Tarquin, and thy friend, and must enjoy thee.
Lucrece. Heaven such sins defend!
Sex. Why do you tremble, lady? cease this fear:
I am alone; there's no suspicious ear
That can betray this deed: nay, start not, sweet.
Lucrece. Dream I, or am I full awake? oh, no!
I know I dream to see Prince Sextus so.
Sweet lord, awake me, rid me from this terror.
I know you for a prince, a gentleman,
Royal and honest, one that loves my lord,
And would not wreck a woman's chastity
For Rome's imperial diadem. Oh, then,
Pardon this dream; for, being awake, I know
Prince Sextus, Rome's great hope, would not for shame
Havoc his own worth, or despoil my fame.
Sex. I'm bent on both; my thoughts are all on fire:
Choose thee; thou must embrace death or desire.
Yet do I love thee. Wilt thou accept it?
Lucrece. No.
Sex. If not thy love, thou must enjoy thy foe.
Where fair means cannot, force shall make my way:
By Jove, I must enjoy thee!
Lucrece. Sweet lord, stay.
Sex. I'm all impatience, violence and rage,
And, save thy bed, nought can this fire assuage.
Wilt love me?
Lucrece. No, I cannot.
Sex. Tell me why?
Lucrece. Hate me, and in that hate first let me die.
Sex. By Jove, I'll force thee!
Lucrece. By a god you swear
To do a devil's deed. Sweet lord, forbear.
By the same Jove I swear, that made this soul,
Never to yield unto an act so foul.
Help, help!
Sex. These pillows first shall stop thy breath,
If thou but shriekest: hark how I'll frame thy death—
Lucrece. For death I care not, so I keep unstained
The uncrazed honour I have yet maintained.
Sex. Thou canst keep neither, for if thou but squeakest
Or lett'st the least harsh noise jar in my ear,
I'll broach thee on my steel; that done, straight murder
One of thy basest grooms, and lay you both,
Grasped arm in arm, on thy adulterate bed,
Then call in witness of that mechal sin.
So shalt thou die, thy death be scandalous,
Thy name be odious, thy suspected body
Denied all funeral rites, and loving Collatine
Shall hate thee even in death: then save all this,
And to thy fortunes add another friend,
Give thy fears comfort, and these torments end.
Lucrece. I'll die first; and yet hear me. As you're noble,
If all your goodness and best generous thoughts
Be not exiled your heart, pity, oh, pity
The virtues of a woman; mar not that
Cannot be made again; this once defiled,
Not all the ocean waves can purify
Or wash my stain away: you seek to soil
That which the radiant splendour of the sun
Cannot make bright again. Behold my tears;
Oh, think them pearlèd drops, distilled from the heart
Of soul-chaste Lucrece; think them orators,
To plead the cause of absent Collatine,
Your friend and kinsman.
Sex. Tush, I am obdure.
Lucrece. Then make my name foul, keep my body
pure.
Oh, prince of princes, do but weigh your sin;
Think how much I shall lose, how small you win.
I lose the honour of my name and blood,
Loss Rome's imperial crown cannot make good;
You win the world's shame and all good men's hate—
Oh, who would pleasure buy at such dear rate?
Nor can you term it pleasure, for what's sweet
Where force and hate, jar and contention meet?
Weigh but for' what 'tis that you urge me still:
To gain a woman's love against her will.
You'll but repent such wrong done a chaste wife,
And think that labour's not worth all your strife,
Curse your hot lust, and say you have wronged your friends;
But all the world cannot make me amends.
I took you for a friend; wrong not my trust,
But let these chaste tears quench your fiery lust.
Sex. No; those moist tears, contending with my fire
Quench not my heat, but make it climb much higher:
I'll drag thee hence.
Lucrece. Oh!
Sex. If thou raise these cries,
Lodged in thy slaughtered arms some base groom dies.
And Rome, that hath admired thy name so long,
Shall blot thy death with scandal from my tongue.
Lucrece. Jove guard my innocence!
Sex. Lucrece, thou'rt mine,
In spite of Jove and all the powers divine.
[He bears her out.
SCENE IV.—An Anteroom in COLLATINE'S House.
Enter a Serving-man.
Ser. What's o'clock, trow? my lord bade me be early ready with my
gelding, for he would ride betimes in the morning: now had I rather be up an
hour before my time than a minute after, for my lord will be so infinitely
angry
if I but oversleep myself a moment that I had better be out of my life than in
his displeasure: but soft, some of my Lord Collatine's men lie in the next
chamber; I care not if I call them up, for it grows towards day. What, Pompey,
Pompey!
Enter Clown.
Clown. Who is that calls?
Ser. 'Tis I.
Clown. Who's that, my Lord Sextus his man?—what a pox make you
up
before day?
Ser. I would have the key of the gate to come at my lord's horse in th
e
stable.
Clown. I would my Lord Sextus and you were both in the hay-loft, for
Pompey can take none of his natural rest among you; here's e'en "Ostler, rise,
and give my horse another peck of hay."
Ser. Nay, good Pompey, help me to the key of the stable.
Clown. Well, Pompey was born to do Rome good in being so kind to the
young prince's gelding, but if for my kindness in giving him pease and oats he
should kick me, I should scarce say "God-a-mercy, horse." But come, I'll go
with
thee to the stable. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.—SEXTUS'S Chamber in COLLATINE'S House.
SEXTUS and LUCRECE discovered.
Sex. Nay, weep not, sweet, what's done is past recall.
Call not thy name in question, by this sorrow,
Which is yet without blemish; what hath passed
Is hid from the world's eye, and only private
'Twixt us. Fair Lucrece, pull not on my head
The wrath of Rome; if I have done thee wrong,
Love was the cause; thy fame is without blot,
And thou in Sextus hast a true friend got.
Nay, sweet, look up; thou only hast my heart;
I must be gone, Lucrece; a kiss and part.
Lucrece. Oh! [She flings from him and exit.
Sex. No? Peevish dame, farewell! then be the bruiter
Of thy own shame, which Tarquin would conceal;
I am armed 'gainst all can come; let mischief frown,
With all his terror, armed with ominous fate;
To all their spleens a welcome I'll afford,
With this bold heart, strong hand and my good sword.
[Exit.
SCENE VI.—The Camp at Ardea.
Enter BRUTUS, VALERIUS, HORATIUS, ARUNS, SCEVOLA, and COLLATINE.
Bru. What, so early, Valerius, and your voice not up yet? thou wast
wont to be my lark, and raise me with thy early notes.
Val. I was never so hard set yet, my lord, but I had ever a fit of
mirth for my friend.
Bru. Prithee, let's hear it then while we may, for I divine thy music
and my madness are both short-lived; we shall have somewhat else to do ere
long,
we hope, Valerius.
Hor. Jove send it!
Val. [Sings.] Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft,
To give my love good-morrow.
Wings from the wind, to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing,
To give my love good-morrow.
To give my love good-morrow,
Notes from them all I'll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast;
Sing, birds, in every furrow,
And from each bill let music shrill
Give my fair love good-morrow,
Blackbird and thrush, in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow,
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves,
Sing my fair love good-morrow.
To give my love good-morrow,
Sing, birds, in every furrow.
Bru. Methinks our wars go not well forwards, Horatius: we have
greater
enemies to bustle with than the Ardeans, if we durst but front them.
Hor. Would it were come to fronting!
Bru. Then we married men should have the advantage of the bachelors,
Horatius, especially such as have revelling wives, those that can caper in the
city while their husbands are in the camp. Collatine, why are you so sad? the
thought of this should not trouble you, having a Lucrece to your bedfellow.
Col. My lord, I know no cause of discontent, yet cannot I be merry.
Sce. Come, come, make him merry; let's have a song in praise of his
Lucrece.
Val. Content.
[Sings.] On two white columns arched she stands;
Some snow would think them, sure,
Some crystal, other lilies stripped,
But none of those so pure.
This beauty when I contemplate,
What riches I behold!
'Tis roofed within with virtuous thoughts,
Without, 'tis thatched with gold.
Two doors there are to enter at:
The one I'll not inquire,
Because concealed; the other seen,
Whose sight inflames desire.
Whether the porch be coral clear,
Or with rich crimson lined,
Or rose-leaves, lasting all the year,
It is not yet divined.
Her eyes not made of purest glass,
Or crystal, but transpareth;
The life of diamonds they surpass,
Their very sight ensnareth.
That which without we rough-cast call,
To stand 'gainst wind and weather,
For its rare beauty equals all
That I have named together.
For, were it not by modest art
Kept from the sight of skies,
It would strike dim the sun itself,
And daze the gazer's eyes.
The case so rich, how may we praise
The jewel lodged within?
To draw their praise I were unwise,
To wrong them it were sin.
Aruns. I should be frolic if my brother were but returned to the
camp.
Hor. And, in good time, behold Prince Sextus.
Enter SEXTUS.
All. Health to our general.
Sex. Thank you.
Bru. Will you survey your forces, and give order for a present
assault?
Your soldiers long to be tugging with the Ardeans.
Sex. No.
Col. Have you seen Lucretia, my lord? how fares she?
Sex. Well; I'll to my tent.
Aruns. Why, how now! what's the matter, brother?
[Exeunt ARUNS and SEXTUS.
Bru. "Thank you." "No." "Well; I'll to my tent." Get thee to thy
tent,
and a coward go with thee, if thou hast no more spirit to a speedy encounter.
Val. Shall I go after him, and know the cause of his discontent?
Sce. Or I, my lord?
Bru. Neither; to pursue a fool in his humour is the next way to make
him more humorous. I'll not be guilty of his folly; thank you, no! Before I
wish
him health again when he is sick of the sullens, may I die, not like a Roman,
but like a runagate!
Sce. Perhaps he's not well.
Bru. Well, then, let him be ill.
Val. Nay, if he be dying, as I could wish he were, I'll ring out his
funeral peal; and this it is.
Come, list and hark;
The bell doth toll,
For some but now
Departing soul,
And was not that
Some ominous fowl,
The bat, the night-
Crow, or screech-owl?
To these I hear
The wild wolf howl
In this black night
That seems to scowl.
All these my black-
Book shall enroll,
For hark! still, still
The bell doth toll
For some but now
Departing soul.
Sce. Excellent, Valerius. But is not that Collatine's man?
Enter Clown.
Val. The news with this hasty post?
Clown. Did nobody see my lord Collatine? Oh! my lady commends her to
you; here's a letter.
Col. Give it me.
Clown. Fie upon't! never was poor Pompey so over-laboured as I have
been. I think I have spurred my horse such a question, that he is scarce
able to
wig or wag his tail for an answer; but my lady bade me spare for no
horse-flesh,
and I think I have made him run his race.
Bru. Cousin Collatine, the news at Rome?
Col. Nothing but what you all may well partake.
Read here, my lord, [BRUTUS reads the letter.
"Dear lord, if ever thou wilt see thy Lucrece,
Choose of the friends which thou affectest best,
And, all important business set apart,
Repair to Rome. Commend me to Lord Brutus,
Valerius, Mutius, and Horatius;
Say I entreat their presence, where my father
Lucretius shall attend them. Farewell, sweet!
The affairs are great, then do not fail to meet."
Bru. I'll thither as I live. [Exit.
Col. I though I die. [Exit.
Sce. To Rome with expeditious wings we'll fly. [Exit.
Hor. The news, the news? if it have any shape
Of sadness, if some prodigy have chanced
That may beget revenge, I'll cease to chafe,
Vex, martyr, grieve, torture, torment myself,
And tune my humour to strange strains of mirth.
My soul divines some happiness: speak, speak;
I know thou hast some news that will create me
Merry and musical, for I would laugh,
Be new transhaped. I prithee sing, Valerius,
That I may air with thee.
Val. [Sings.]—
I'd think myself as proud in shackles
As doth the ship in all her tackles;
The wise man boasts no more his brains
Than I'd insult in gyves and chains;
As creditors would use their debtors,
So could I toss and shake my fetters;
But not confess: my thoughts should be
In durance fast as those kept me.
And could, when spite their hearts environs,
Then dance to the music of my irons.
Now tell us what's the project of thy message?
Clown. My lords, the princely Sextus has been at home, but what he hat
h
done there I may partly mistrust, but cannot altogether resolve you: besides,
my
lady swore me that whatsoever I suspected I should say nothing.
Val. If thou wilt not say thy mind, I prithee sing thy mind, and then
thou mayst save thine oath.
Clown. Indeed, I was not sworn to that; I may either laugh out my
news
or sing 'em, and so I may save mine oath to my lady.
Hor. How's all at Rome, that with such sad presage Disturbèd
Collatine and noble Brutus
Are hurried from the camp with Scevola,
And we with expedition 'mongst the rest,
Are charged to Rome? Speak, what did Sextus there
With thy fair mistress?
Val. Second me, my lord, and we'll urge him to disclose it.
CATCH.
Val. Did he take fair Lucrece by the toe, man?
Hor. Toe, man?
Val. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha ha, man!
Hor. And further did he strive to go, man?
Clown. Go, man?
Hor. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man, fa derry derry down, ha fa derry dino!
Val. Did he take fair Lucrece by the heel, man?
Clown. Heel, man?
Val. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man!
Hor. And did he further strive to feel, man?
Clown. Feel, man?
Hor. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man, ha fa derry, &c.
Val. Did he take the lady by the shin, man?
Clown. Shin, man?
Val. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man!
Hor. Further too would he have been, man?
Clown. Been, man?
Hor. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man, ha fa derry, &c.
Val. Did he take the lady by the knee, man?
Clown. Knee, man?
Val. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man!
Hor. Farther than that would he be, man?
Clown. Be, man?
Hor. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
Val. Did he take the lady by the thigh, man?
Clown. Thigh, man?
Val. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man!
Hor. And now he came it somewhat nigh, man.
Clown. Nigh, man?
Hor. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
Val. But did he do the tother thing, man?
Clown. Thing, man?
Val. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man!
Hor. And at the same had he a fling, man?
Clown. Fling, man?
Hor. Ay, man.
Clown. Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c. [Exeunt.
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 trangression.
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.
Luc. Brutus!
Bru. Lucretius!
Lucrece. Father!
Col. Lucrece!
Lucrece. Collatine!
Bru. 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.
Hor. How fare you, lady?
Luc. What's the matter, girl?
Col. 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!
Val. Whence are these sighs and tears?
Sce. How grows this passion?
Bru. 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.
Bru. Be his head arched with gold.
Hor. Be his hand armed
With an imperial sceptre.
Luc. Be he great
As Tarquin, throned in an imperial seat.
Bru. 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!
Col. 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.
Bru. 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?
Hor. 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.
Col. 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?
Bru. 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 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.
Luc. Lucrece!
Col. Wife!
Bru. Lady!
Sce. She hath slain herself.
Val. Oh, see yet, lords, if there be hope of life.
Bru. 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.
Hor. Now's the time
To call their pride to count. Brutus, lead on;
We'll follow thee to their confusion.
Val. 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.
Sce. Be it so.
Bru. 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.
Hor. To see the father and the husband mourn
O'er this chaste dame, that have a 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.
Bru. 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.
Valerious, you assist him instantly,
And to the 'mazèd people speak
The cause of this concourse.
Val. We go. [Exeunt VALERIUS and SCEVOLA.
Bru. 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.
Bru. Even thus far, tyrant, have we dogged thy steps,
Frighting thy queen and thee with horrid steel.
Tar. Lodged in the safety of Porsenna's arms,
Now, traitor Brutus, we dare front thy pride.
Hor. Porsenna, thou'rt unworthy of a sceptre,
To shelter pride, lust, rape, and tyranny,
In that proud prince and his confederate peers.
Sex. 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.
Col. 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!
Sce. Her chaste blood still cries
For vengeance to the ethereal deities.
Luc. Oh, 'twas a foul deed, Sextus!
Val. 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?
Por. Brutus, therein thou dost forget thyself,
And wrong'st the glory of thine ancestors,
Staining thy blood with treason.
Bru. Tuscan, know
The Consul Brutus is their powerful foe.
Tarquin, Tullia, &c. Consul!
Hor. 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.
Bru. 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.
Val. Now shall the blood of Servius fall as heavy
As a huge mountain on your tyrant heads,
O'erwhelming all your glory.
Hor. Tullia's guilt
Shall be by us revenged, that, in her pride,
In blood paternal her rough coach-wheels dyed.
Luc. Your tyrannies—
Sce. Pride—
Col. And my Lucrece' fate,
Shall all be swallowed in this hostile hate.
Sex. O Romulus! thou that first reared you 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.
Bru. Sextus, my madness with your lives expires;
Thy sensual eyes are fixed upon that wall
Thou ne'er shalt enter; Rome confines you all.
Por. A charge then!
Tar. Jove and Tarquin!
Hor. But we cry a Brutus!
Bru. 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.
Bru. 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.
Hor. 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.
Sce. 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.
Val. Break down the bridge, lest the pursuing enemy
Enter with us and take the spoil of Rome.
Hor. 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!
Luc. Come, you're mad.
Col. The foe comes on, and we in trifling here,
Hazard ourself and people.
Hor. Save them all;
To make Rome stand, Horatius here will fall.
Bru. 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 gaze on thy face
And menace death; the raging streams of Tiber
Are at thy back to swallow thee.
Hor. Retire;
To make Rome live, 'tis death that I desire.
Bru. 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.
Hor. Farewell!
All. Farewell!
Bru. 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.
Hor. 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 Rome,
And with this sword defy the puissant army
Of two great kings.
Por. 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.
Sex. 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.
Val. 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.
Sex. Yet enter!
Val. Dear Horatius, yet stand,
And save a million by one powerful hand.
[Alarum; the bridge falls.
All. Charge, charge, charge!
Sex. Degenerate slaves! the bridge is fallen, Rome's lost.
Val. Horatius, thou art stronger than their host;
Thy strength is valour, theirs are idle braves,
Now save thyself, and leap into the waves.
Hor. 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.
Por. He's leapt off from the bridge and drowned himself.
Sex. 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.
Por. 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.
Tar. 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.
Por. Our Secretary!
Enter Secretary.
Secre. My lord.
Por. 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.
Sce. [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.
Secre. Oh, I am slain! treason, treason!
Por. Villain, what hast thou done?
Sce. Why, slain the king.
Por. What king?
Sce. Porsenna.
Por. Porsenna lives to see thee torturèd,
With plagues more devilish than the pains of hell.
Sce. 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.
Por. What will the madman do?
Sce. 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.
Por. 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.
Sce. Well, I go,
And for revenge take life even of my foe. [Exit.
Por. 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.
Bru. 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.
Hor. Great consul, thanks!
But, leaving this, let's march out of the city,
And once more bid them battle on the plains.
Val. 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.
Sce. 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.
Hor. Dear Scevola,
Thou hast exceeded us in our resolve:
But will the Tarquins give us present battle?
Sce. That may ye hear; the skirmish is begun
Already 'twixt the horse.
Luc. Then, noble consul,
Lead our main battle on.
Bru. 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.
Por. 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.
Por. '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.
Hor. Aruns, stay!
That sword, that late did drink the consul's blood,
Must with his keen fang tire upon my flesh,
Or this on thine.
Aruns. It spared the consul's life
To end thy days in a more glorious strife.
Val. I stand against thee, Tuscan!
Por. I for thee!
Hor. 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.
Tar. 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.
Tul. Had I the heart to tread upon the bulk
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.
Coll., Luc., and Sce. Hew them to pieces both.
Tar. My Tullia save,
And o'er my caitiff head those meteors wave!
Coll. Let Tullia yield then.
Tul. Yield me, cuckold! no;
Mercy I scorn; let me the danger know.
Sce. Upon them, then!
Val. Let's bring them to their fate,
And let them perish in the people's hate.
Tul. Fear not, I'll back thee, husband.
Tar. 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.
Tul. 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.
Bru. 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.
Hor. Aruns lies dead
By this bright sword that towered about his head.
Col. And see, great consul, where the pride of Rome
Lies sunk and fallen.
Val. Beside him lies the queen,
Mangled and hewn amongst the Roman soldiers.
Hor. 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.
Bru. But where's the ravisher,
Injurious Sextus, that we see not him? [Short alarum.
Enter SEXTUS.
Sex. 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.
Hor. 'Tis too late;
His mounting pride's sunk in the people's hate.
Sex. 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.
Val. Begirt him, lords; this is the ravisher;
There's no revenge for Lucrece till he fall.
Luc. Seize Sextus, then—
Sex. Sextus defies you all!
Yet will you give me language are I die?
Bru. Say on.
Sex. '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 hand ripped up her innocent breast:
'Twas Sextus did all this.
Col. Which I'll revenge.
Hor. Leave that to me.
Luc. Old as I am, I'll do't.
Sce. I have one hand left yet, of strength enough
To kill a ravisher.
Sex. 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 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, 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.
Bru. 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, 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.
Sex. 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's with one scorns life.
Bru. 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.
Bru. Sextus, stand fair: much honour shall I win
To revenge Lucrece, and chastise thy sin.
Sex. 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.
Hor. 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.
Col. 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.
Por. 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.
Val. 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.
Col. 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!
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."
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