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.
SEXTUS.
[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?
SEXTUS.
Madam, with you.
LUCRECE.
It will become the wife of Collatine
To wait upon your trencher.
SEXTUS.
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?
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
[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!
SEXTUS.
Nay, you must drink off all.
LUCRECE.
Your grace must pardon
The tender weakness of a woman’s brain.
SEXTUS.
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!
SEXTUS.
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[54] night
Impaired your health?
SEXTUS.
Divinest Lucrece, no. I cannot eat.
LUCRECE.
To rest then.—
A rank of torches, there, attend the prince!
SEXTUS.
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!
SEXTUS.
A kiss, and so good-night—nay, for your ring’s sake, deny not that.
LUCRECE.
Jove give your highness soft and sweet repose!
SEXTUS.
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[55] 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[56] Prince
Sextus.
SERVING-MAN.
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[57] 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.
SERVING-MAN.
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.
MIRABLE.
For shame! what a conjuring and caterwauling keep you here, that my lady cannot sleep! you shall have her call by and by, and send you all to bed with a witness.
CLOWN.
Sweet Mistress Mirable, we are going.
MIRABLE.
You are too loud; come, every man dispose him to his rest, and I’ll to mine.
SERVING-MAN.
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.
SEXTUS.
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[58] 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!
SEXTUS.
Sweet, ’tis I.
LUCRECE.
What I?
SEXTUS.
Make room.
LUCRECE.
My husband Collatine?
SEXTUS.
Thy husband’s at the camp.
LUCRECE.
Here is no place for any man save him.
SEXTUS.
Grant me that grace.
LUCRECE.
What are you?
SEXTUS.
Tarquin, and thy friend, and must enjoy thee.
LUCRECE.
Heaven such sins defend![59]
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
I’m all impatience, violence and rage,
And, save thy bed, nought can this fire assuage.
Wilt love me?
LUCRECE.
No, I cannot.
SEXTUS.
Tell me why?
LUCRECE.
Hate me, and in that hate first let me die.
SEXTUS.
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!
SEXTUS.
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[60] honour I have yet maintained.
SEXTUS.
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[61] 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.
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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!
SEXTUS.
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!
SEXTUS.
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.
SERVING-MAN.
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?
SERVING-MAN.
’Tis I.
CLOWN.
Who’s that, my Lord Sextus his man?—what a pox make you up before day?
SERVING-MAN.
I would have the key of the gate to come at my lord’s horse in the 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.”
SERVING-MAN.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
SEXTUS.
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.
ENTER BRUTUS, VALERIUS, HORATIUS, ARUNS, SCEVOLA, AND
COLLATINE.
BRUTUS.
What, so early, Valerius, and your voice not up yet? thou wast wont to be my lark, and raise me with thy early notes.
VALERIUS.
I was never so hard set yet, my lord, but I had ever a fit of mirth for my friend.
BRUTUS.
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.
HORATIUS.
Jove send it!
VALERIUS.
[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,[62] 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.
BRUTUS.
Methinks our wars go not well forwards, Horatius: we have greater enemies to bustle with than the Ardeans, if we durst but front them.
HORATIUS.
Would it were come to fronting!
BRUTUS.
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.
COLLATINE.
My lord, I know no cause of discontent, yet cannot I be merry.
SCEVOLA.
Come, come, make him merry; let’s have a song in praise of his
Lucrece.
VALERIUS.
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.
HORATIUS.
And, in good time, behold Prince
Sextus.
ENTER
SEXTUS.
ALL.
Health to our general.
SEXTUS.
Thank you.
BRUTUS.
Will you survey your forces, and give order for a present assault? Your soldiers long to be tugging with the Ardeans.
SEXTUS.
No.
COLLATINE.
Have you seen Lucretia, my lord? how fares she?
SEXTUS.
Well; I’ll to my tent.
ARUNS.
Why, how now! what’s the matter, brother?
[EXEUNT ARUNS AND
SEXTUS.
BRUTUS.
“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.
VALERIUS.
Shall I go after him, and know the cause of his discontent?
SCEVOLA.
Or I, my lord?
BRUTUS.
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!
SCEVOLA.
Perhaps he’s not well.
BRUTUS.
Well, then, let him be ill.
VALERIUS.
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.
SCEVOLA.
Excellent, Valerius. But is not that Collatine’s man?
Enter
Clown.
VALERIUS.
The news with this hasty post?
CLOWN.
Did nobody see my lord Collatine? Oh! my lady commends her to you; here’s a letter.
COLLATINE.
Give it me.
CLOWN.
Fie upon’t! never was poor Pompey so overlaboured 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.
BRUTUS.
Cousin Collatine, the news at Rome?
COLLATINE.
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.”
BRUTUS.
I’ll thither as I live. [Exit.
COLLATINE.
I though I die. [Exit.
SCEVOLA.
To Rome with expeditious wings we’ll fly. [Exit.
HORATIUS.
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.
VALERIUS.
[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 hath done there I may partly mistrust, but cannot altogether resolve you: besides, my lady swore me that whatsoever I suspected I should say nothing.
VALERIUS.
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.
HORATIUS.
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?
VALERIUS.
Second me, my lord, and we’ll urge him to disclose it.
CATCH.[63]
VALERIUS.
Did he take fair Lucrece by the toe, man?
HORATIUS.
Toe, man?
VALERIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha ha, man!
HORATIUS.
And further did he strive to go, man?
CLOWN.
Go, man?
HORATIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man, fa derry derry down, ha fa derry dino!
VALERIUS.
Did he take fair Lucrece by the heel, man?
CLOWN.
Heel, man?
VALERIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
HORATIUS.
And did he further strive to feel, man?
CLOWN.
Feel, man?
HORATIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man, ha fa derry, &c.
VALERIUS.
Did he take the lady by the shin, man?
CLOWN.
Shin, man?
VALERIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
HORATIUS.
Further too would he have been, man?
CLOWN.
Been, man?
HORATIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man, ha fa derry, &c.
VALERIUS.
Did he take the lady by the knee, man?
CLOWN.
Knee, man?
VALERIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
HORATIUS.
Farther than that would he be, man?
CLOWN.
Be, man?
HORATIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
VALERIUS.
Did he take the lady by the thigh, man?
CLOWN.
Thigh, man?
VALERIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
HORATIUS.
And now he came it somewhat nigh, man.
CLOWN.
Nigh, man?
HORATIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
VALERIUS.
But did he do the tother thing, man?
CLOWN.
Thing, man?
VALERIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
HORATIUS.
And at the same had he a fling, man?
CLOWN.
Fling, man?
HORATIUS.
Ay, man.
CLOWN.
Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
[Exeunt.