ENTER HORATIUS COCLES AND MUTIUS
SCEVOLA.
HORATIUS.
I would I were no Roman.
SCEVOLA.
Cocles, why?
HORATIUS.
I am discontented, and dare not speak my thoughts.
SCEVOLA.
What, shall I speak them for you?
HORATIUS.
Mutius, do.
SCEVOLA.
Tarquin is proud.
HORATIUS.
Thou hast them.
SCEVOLA.
Tyrannous.
HORATIUS.
True.
SCEVOLA.
Insufferably lofty.
HORATIUS.
Thou hast hit me.
SCEVOLA.
And shall I tell thee what I prophesy
Of his succeeding rule?
HORATIUS.
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.
SCEVOLA.
We are one heart;
Our thoughts and our desires are suitable.
HORATIUS.
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.
SCEVOLA.
What haste with good Lucretius?
LUCRETIUS.
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!
HORATIUS.
Whither will you, my lord?
LUCRETIUS.
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.
HORATIUS.
Nay, good Lucretius, do not leave us thus.
See, here comes Collatine; but where’s Valerius?
How does he taste these times?
COLLATINE.
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.
LUCRETIUS.
How is he relished? can his eyes forbear
In this strange state to shed a passionate tear?
SCEVOLA.
Can he forbear to laugh with Scevola,
At that which passionate weeping cannot mend?
HORATIUS.
Nay, can his thought shape aught but melancholy
To see these dangerous passages of state?
How is he tempered, noble Collatine?
COLLATINE.
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,[17] none knowing
Whence should proceed this transmutation.
ENTER
VALERIUS.
HORATIUS.
See where he comes. Morrow,
Valerius.
LUCRETIUS.
Morrow, my lord.
VALERIUS.
[Sings.] When Tarquin first in court began,
And was approvèd king,
Some men for sudden joy ’gan weep,
But I for sorrow sing.
SCEVOLA.
Ha, ha! how long has my Valerius
Put on this strain of mirth, or what’s the cause?
VALERIUS.
[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.
HORATIUS.
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.
VALERIUS.
[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[18] 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,[19]
And he that proves shall find it so;
And this is love, and this is love, sweet friend, I trow.
LUCRETIUS.
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?
VALERIUS.
[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!
HORATIUS.
This music mads me; I all mirth despise.
LUCRETIUS.
To hear him sing draws rivers from mine eyes.
SCEVOLA.
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?
VALERIUS.
[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?
LUCRETIUS.
I’ll in to weep.
HORATIUS.
But I my gall to grate.
SCEVOLA.
I’ll laugh at time, till it will change our fate.
[Exeunt all but
COLLATINE.
COLLATINE.
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[20] 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!
COLLATINE.
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?
COLLATINE.
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.
COLLATINE.
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?
COLLATINE.
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,[22] had nothing to say for himself but this—he that made twelve made thirteen.
COLLATINE.
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?
COLLATINE.
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.
COLLATINE.
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.
COLLATINE.
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.
BRUTUS.
Gramercies, Phœbus, for these spells!
Phœbus alone, alone excels.
SEXTUS.
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?
BRUTUS.
Ay, oracle, hast thou lost thy tongue?
ARUNS.
Tempt him again, fair priest.
SEXTUS.
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?[23]
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.
SEXTUS.
Shall kiss his mother!
[BRUTUS FALLS.
BRUTUS.
Mother Earth, to thee
An humble kiss I tender.
ARUNS.
What means Brutus?
BRUTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
BRUTUS.
Let the charge go round.
It shall go hard but I’ll prevent[24] you,
Sextus.
SEXTUS.
I fear not the madman Brutus; and for Aruns, let me alone to buckle[25] with him: I’ll be the first at my mother’s lips for a kingdom.
BRUTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
BRUTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
ENTER TARQUIN, TULLIA, AND COLLATINE, SCEVOLA, HORATIUS, LUCRETIUS, VALERIUS, NOBLES.
TARQUIN.
Attend us with your persons, but your ears
Be deaf unto our counsels.
[The Lords fall off on either side and attend.
TULLIA.
Farther yet.
TARQUIN.
Now, Tullia, what must be concluded next?
TULLIA.
The kingdom you have got by policy
You must maintain by pride.
TARQUIN.
Good.
TULLIA.
Those that were late of the king’s faction
Cut off, for fear they prove rebellious.
TARQUIN.
Better.
TULLIA.
Since you gain nothing by the popular love,
Maintain by fear your princedom.
TARQUIN.
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.
TULLIA.
No matter.
TARQUIN.
All capital causes are by us discussed,
Traversed,[26] and executed without counsel:
We challenge too, by our prerogative,
The goods of such as strive against our state;
The freest citizens, without attaint,[27]
Arraign, or judgment, we to exile doom;
The poorer are our drudges, rich our prey,
And such as dare not strive our rule obey.
TULLIA.
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.
TARQUIN.
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.
TULLIA.
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[28] one, three Tarquins more,
Like hydras’ heads, grow to revenge his death,
It terrifies black treason.
TARQUIN.
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.
SEXTUS.
Where’s Tullia?
ARUNS.
Where’s our mother?
HORATIUS.
Yonder, princes,
At council with the king.
TULLIA.
Our sons returned!
SEXTUS.
Royal mother!
ARUNS.
Renowned queen!
SEXTUS.
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.
BRUTUS.
To’t, lads!
ARUNS.
Mother, a kiss.
SEXTUS.
Though last in birth, let me be first in love.
A kiss, fair mother.
ARUNS.
Shall I lose my right?
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
Aruns, thou must down.
TARQUIN.
Restrain them, lords.
BRUTUS.
Nay, to’t, boys! Oh, ’tis brave!
They tug for shadows, I the substance have.
ARUNS.
Through armèd gates, and thousand swords I’ll break
To show my duty: let my valour speak.
[Breaks from the Nobles and kisses her.
SEXTUS.
O Heavens! you have dissolved me.
ARUNS.
Here I stand,
What I ha’ done to answer with this hand.
SEXTUS.
O all ye Delphian gods, look down and see
How for these wrongs I will revenged be!
TARQUIN.
Curb in the proud boys’ fury; let us know
From whence this discord riseth.
TULLIA.
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.
SEXTUS.
Thank you, no.
TULLIA.
Then to thy knee we will descend thus low.
SEXTUS.
Nay, now it shall not need. How great’s my heart!
ARUNS.
In Tarquin’s crown thou now hast lost thy part.
SEXTUS.
No kissing now. Tarquin, great queen, adieu!
Aruns, on earth we ha’ no foe but you.
TARQUIN.
What means this their unnatural enmity?
TULLIA.
Hate, born from love.
TARQUIN.
Resolve us then, how did the gods accept
Our sacrifice? how are they pleased with us?
How long will they applaud our sovereignty?
BRUTUS.
Shall I tell the king?
TARQUIN.
Do, cousin, with the process of your journey.
BRUTUS.
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.
TARQUIN.
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.
BRUTUS.
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.
TULLIA.
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.
BRUTUS.
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.
TULLIA.
How, sir!
BRUTUS.
God be wi’ ye. [Exit.
TARQUIN.
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.
HORATIUS.
I heard him say, he would straight take his horse
And to the warlike Sabines, enemies
To Rome and you.
TARQUIN.
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.
HORATIUS.
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.
LUCRETIUS.
Oh, would my tears
Would rid great Rome of these prodigious fears!
Re-enter
BRUTUS.
BRUTUS.
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?
HORATIUS.
Fret.
VALERIUS.
Sing.
LUCRETIUS.
Weep.
SCEVOLA.
Laugh.
BRUTUS.
Rather let’s all be mad,
That Tarquin he still reigneth, Rome’s still sad.
COLLATINE.
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[29] 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.
BRUTUS.
I am of Collatine’s mind now. Valerius, sing us a bawdy song, and make’s merry: nay, it shall be so.
VALERIUS.
Brutus shall pardon me.
SCEVOLA.
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.
HORATIUS.
The more thy vanity.
LUCRETIUS.
The less thy honour.
VALERIUS.
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.
BRUTUS.
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?
HORATIUS.
Great Tarquin’s pride and Tullia’s cruelty.
BRUTUS.
Dangerous; no.
LUCRETIUS.
The tyrannies of the court, and vassalage of the city.
SCEVOLA.
Neither. Shall I give the subject?
BRUTUS.
Do, and let it be of all the pretty wenches in Rome.
SCEVOLA.
It shall: shall it, shall it, Valerius?
VALERIUS.
Anything according to my poor acquaintance and little conversance.
BRUTUS.
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:[30] sit round. When, Valerius?
VALERIUS.
[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;[31]
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;[32]
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.
BRUTUS.
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
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 quæ 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.
ENTER COLLATINE, VALERIUS, HORATIUS, AND
SCEVOLA.
HORATIUS.
Come, Valerius, let’s hear, in our way to the house of Collatine, that you went late hammering of concerning the taverns in Rome.
VALERIUS.
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.[33]
Enter LUCRECE and
Clown.
COLLATINE.
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?
HORATIUS.
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.
SCEVOLA.
Courtesy strangely requited; this none but the son of Tarquin would have enterprised.
VALERIUS.
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.
COLLATINE.
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.
COLLATINE.
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.
VALERIUS.
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.[34]
VALERIUS.
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.
VALERIUS.
I’ll do that for thee. What’s thy name?
CLOWN.
My name, sir, is Pompey.
VALERIUS.
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.[35]
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 here with you, and dinner cools o’ the table, and I am called to my attendance! O my sweet Lord Valerius!
[Exeunt.