 | The Sybil or the Elder Brutus |  |
19
ACT II.
The Capitol. The Equestrian Statue of Tarquin. Night.The Sybil.
Now, in this dead and secret hour of night,
Tarquin, on hellish violation bent,
With silent tread steals to the innocent couch
Of chaste Lucretia—Think not, ravisher,
Indignant virtue shall survive pollution;
By her own hand a Roman wife can fall.
Now, Brutus, throw thy mask of folly off;
Father of freedom, Rome's deliverer, rise;
Put fire into the languid souls of men,
Let loose your ministers of wrath amongst them,
And mark this hideous night with ruin, Gods!
Launch forth thy thunders, Capitolian Jove,
Nor let that vaunting tyrant proudly ride
In presence of thy temple. Strike him down,
Ye lightnings! lay his trophies in the dust,
And vindicate the majesty of justice.
Hark! 'tis begun! flash, ye blue, forked fires!
Loud-bursting thunders, roar! and tremble, Earth!
[Exit.
[Thunder and Lightning—during which the Statue of Tarquin is struck down to the Earth.
Sextus Tarquinius and Vitellius.
Vit.
Was ever night so dreadful?
Sex.
None so blest:
20
And the kind Gods—I thank them for the favour—
With their own music crown my triumphs—Hark!
[Thunder.
Vit.
What do I see? your father's statue fallen,
Unhors'd and headless—Gods, avert the omen!
The Capitol's great founder laid thus low
By Jove's own thunder at the basest foot
Of the proud pile he rear'd.
Sex.
Oh, father Tarquin,
Put from all use religion amongst men;
Down with the shrines of the unthankful Gods,
Who, whilst we rear immortal fanes to them,
Strike at our brittle trophies, nor allow us
The frail memorial of a few short years.
Vit.
The elements are out of course, the heavens,
As if in anger at the impenitent earth,
On the Tarquinian mount rain'd blood.
Sex.
Away!
Haunt me no more with omens—I'm secure:
The proud, the virtuous, the untam'd Lucretia
Is—let these conscious lightnings tell you what—
The torches of accommodating night,
That usher'd Jove to Semele—The moon,
She too amidst the tumult, she at times
Her maid'nish mantle put aside and gaz'd,
Wishfully gaz'd—loud thunders roll'd the whilst,
And echo'd heavenly plaudits to my joys.
Vit.
What hast thou done? declare!
Sex.
What have I done?
What the sun does, that amorous reveller,
When through the barrier of the frozen north
Flaming he bursts: Spring and the laughing Hours
Look on, and scatter roses in the lap
Of marriageable Earth: he all the whilst,
With glowing cheeks and kisses kindling fire,
21
The snows that on her unsmircht bosom lie,
Melt at the quick'ning touch—So came the son
Of Tarquin, burning fierce with hot desires,
To chaste Lucretia's chamber—
Vit.
Oh, no more!
Imagination cannot feign an act
So horrible as this. I tell thee, Prince,
If thou hast wrong'd this matron—
Sex.
If I've wrong'd her—
If—be accurst henceforth all peevish scruples,
All honourable folly!—Still I press'd,
Still she refus'd, and ran through all the maze
Of womanish evasion: Fir'd at length
I threaten'd force; she rail'd, and in a tone
Of high declamatory virtue call'd
On heav'n and earth—I seiz'd her—frantic then,
And louder than the Pythian priestess grown,
She shriek'd out—Collatinus! Husband, help!
A slave rush'd in—I sprung upon the caitiff,
And drove my dagger through his clam'rous throat;
Then turning to Lucretia, now half dead
With terror, swore by all the gods at once,
If she resisted, to the heart I'd stab her,
Yoke her fair body to the dying slave,
And then, with dreadful imprecations, after
Rivet pollution to her name for ever.
Vit.
Oh deed, that whelms in ruin all your hopes,
And gives your name to general execration
Till time shall be no more: Take leave of peace,
Bid honour, empire, Rome farewell for ever.
—Hark, they are up! That yell of female slaves
Bursts from Lucretia's house—She dies, she dies!
And see the frantic husband!—
Sex.
Mad as Nessus.
22
Courage must yield to numbers—Give him way!
[Exeunt.
Collatinus, followed by Valerius and sundry others.
Col.
Friends, citizens of Rome, avenge my cause!
Shake off inglorious sleep and seize your arms—
Lucretia dies—she bleeds for Rome and you.
Revenge, revenge!
Val.
My noble friend and kinsman,
To you and to your cause Valerius vows
Faith and affiance, till this direful act
Shall be aton'd with judgment on th' offender;
But let me counsel you to calm this passion;
Loud cries avail us nothing.
Col.
Call my slaves,
Provide me lights, and on a funeral bier
Place her pale corpse, and so let all go forth.
It cannot be but dead Lucretia's wound
Shall plead most eloquently.
Val.
Be it so!
Retire we for that purpose.
Brutus appears.
Col.
Hah! what's that?
L. Jun.
A thing not worth a name.
Val.
'Tis Lucius Junius:
Pass on and stay him not—The hour is precious.
[Exeunt Col. Val. and Servants.
L. Jun.
[contemplating the fallen Statue.]
Fall'n idol, art thou laid thus low? Tis well.
For this I thank you, Gods, that when you point
Your shafts at human pride, it is not chance,
23
But I, a thing of no account, a slave—
I to your forked lightnings bare my bosom
In vain—for what's a slave, a dastard slave,
A fool, a Brutus?—Hark! the storm rides on,
The scolding winds drive through the clattering rain,
And loudly screams the haggard witch of night.
Why should this Collatinus quit his pillow
And breast the thunder, when his soft-arm'd wife
Might wrap him in Elysium? As I pass'd
His doors but now, the south indeed blew high,
And yet methought I heard a screaming yell
Louder than all the storm. My thoughts grow wild,
Engender with the scene, and pant for action.
With your leave, Majesty, I'll sit beside you
[Sits on the fallen Statue.
And ruminate awhile—Oh! for a cause,
A cause, just Gods!—Soft you, what stir is this?
Valerius enters with Attendants.
Val.
By Numa's altar on the Cælian mount
Dwells Caius Quintius the pontifical:
Bear him this writing—Be not put aside
With the stale shifts of lazy servitors,
But do thine errand boldly—This to Tatius!
This to my son-in-law Fabricius!—This,
And above all, to the plebeian Decius;
You'll find him at the house of Servius Cotta.
In the old square west of Diana's grove
By Rhea's fountain—Haste and tell my friends
With Collatinus I expect their coming.
Pray them to use their earliest speed. Away!
[Exeunt attendants severally.
L. Jun.
Valerius—Hoa!
24
Who calls me?
L. Jun.
Brutus.
Val.
Go!
Get thee to sleep.
[Val. is departing.
L. Jun.
Valerius!—
Val.
Peace! I say,
Thou foolish thing. Why dost thou call so loud?
L. Jun.
Because I would be heard. The time may come
When thou shalt want a fool.
Val.
Prithee, begone!
I have no time to hear thy prattle now.
L. Jun.
By Hercules, but you must hear.
[Rises and advances.
Val.
You'll anger me.
L. Jun.
Waste not your noble anger on a fool.
'Twere a brave passion in a better cause.
Val.
Thy folly's cause enough.
L. Jun.
Rail not at folly.
'Tis a convenient cloak to hide a slave:
Cast off this idle trick of anger from you;
Dance to the music of your chains, as I do,
A merry measure, laugh aloud and live,
Not by your wits, that were to starve in Rome,
Where the whole mass and congregation breathes
Exquisite folly; each sense savours of it,
Sight, taste, touch—all is fool—There's but one wise,
And him the Gods have kill'd.
Val.
Kill'd whom?
L. Jun.
Behold!
Oh! sight of pity—Majesty in ruins—
Down on your knees; down to your kingly idol!
Val.
Let slaves and sycophants do that; not I.
L. Jun.
Wilt thou not kneel?
Val.
Begone; you trouble me.
Valerius kneels not to the living Tarquin.
25
Indeed! belike you wish him laid as low.
Val.
What if I do?
L. Jun.
Jove tells thee what to do—
Strike!—Oh! the difference 'twixt Jove's wrath and thine!
He at the crowned tyrant aims his shaft,
Thou, mighty man, would'st frown a fool to silence,
And spurn poor Brutus from thee.
Val.
What is this?
Let me look nearer at thee. Is thy mind,
That long lost jewel, found, and Lucius Junius
Dear to my heart restor'd? or art thou Brutus,
The scoff and jest of Rome, and this a fit
Of intermittent reason?
L. Jun.
I am Brutus.
Folly, be thou my Goddess! I am Brutus.
If thou wilt use me, so! If not, farewell.
Why dost thou pause? Look on me! I have limbs,
Parts and proportions, shoulders strong to bear,
And hands not slow to strike. What more than Brutus
Could Lucius Junius do?
Val.
A cause like ours
Asks both the strength of Brutus and the wisdom
Of Lucius Junius.
L. Jun.
Tell not me of wisdom;
If there be no part that a fool can act,
A very foolish cause you have, good cousin.
Hah! what slow-moving train of fiery shapes
Visits the sleeping night? Is mine eye faithful,
Or was it but the error of the time?
And hark! a groan. Who and what are they?
Val.
Romans;
Sad, mournful men, a family of woe;
26
Wert thou not soul-enslav'd, to all sense lost,
More dull and sordid than the trodden earth,
They have a tale to tell—
[The Body of Lucretia is brought in upon a bier, attended by a numerous train bearing torches.
Collatinus and other Romans.
L. Jun.
Stand, hoa! there; stand!
Your burden of mortality set down,
And answer yield me what dead thing you carry;
Why at this hour come ye like spectres rather
From fiery Phlegethon, than men and Romans?
Speak; Brutus questions.
Col.
Noisy fool, avaunt!
Thrust him aside, and pass.
Val.
Do him no wrong;
But if thy griefs will let thee, pause awhile,
And as thy friends and neighbours stand around thee,
Kind-hearted Romans, whom thy loud lamentings,
Spite of Jove's thunder, have this night unhous'd,
Speak thy full sorrows!
Col.
Set the body down—
Hard task and heavy, Romans, you impose;
But since it is your pleasure to demand
Why we your peaceful slumbers have invaded
With cries above the storm—Simply 'tis this—
Lucretia's dead—Bear with me for a while—
[Weeps.
L. Jun.
Lucretia dead!—
Col.
There on that bier she sleeps
Never again to wake; a beauteous flower,
An innocent sweet rose, by the rude hand
27
She was the mark and model of the time,
The mould in which each female face was form'd
To look like her; she was the very shrine
And sacristy of virtue: every knee,
Whilst the Gods went unworshipt, bent to her:
You all can witness, when that she went forth
It was a holiday in Rome; old age
Forgot its crutch, labour its task, all ran,
And mothers turning to their daughters cried—
There, there's Lucretia! Give me, ye blest Powers,
A daughter like Lucretia, other boon
I ask not, great Disposers!—
L. Jun.
Under favour,
You straggle from the point at which we stick.
Speak of the manner of her death, so please you;
Leave numb'ring her perfections, which we knew,
And knew as numberless, as if you strove
To sum up grain by grain the countless sand
On the surf-beaten shore—These things to tell us
Argues no thrift of words.
1 Rom.
Hear the fool, neighbours,
How gravely he declaims—
2. Rom.
And wisely too.
Since he hath been at Delphi he speaks oracles.
3 Rom.
Can this be Lucius Junius?
1 Rom.
List again!—
L. Jun.
If Nature's hand hath cropt this early flower,
Why do we grieve? for it was Nature's giving;
And these deep sobs wrung from your bleeding heart
She, your stern creditor, exacts as usance
For her imparted loan. In one plain word,
If she came fairly by her death, declare it,
28
From the night air—If not, proceed!
Col.
Oh friends,
This night, this fatal night, from Ardea's walls
Wing'd with fond speed I came. I found her, Romans,
Not deckt as she was wont with nuptial smiles,
Love's proper greeting, but transform'd with woe,
A spectacle to start from: On her cheek,
In place of rosy health, a turbid spot
Of livid purple burn'd, in her sunk eyes
Despair sate deep-engulph'd; rous'd at my cries
She rais'd her head, and in a voice once sweet
And tunable as young Apollo's lyre,
Now hoarse and crackt with horror, bade me fly,
Fly her polluted arms, which damned lust
And brutal violation had defil'd.
L. Jun.
Hah! violation—Do we dwell in dens,
Caverns and rocks, or amongst men in Rome?
Lives he who wrong'd Lucretia? Speak; declare!
1 Rom.
How steadily he questions!
2 Rom.
Mark his eye,
What a new form he wears! Answer to Brutus.
Col.
He lives who did the wrong.
L. Jun.
Oh shame, shame, shame!
Romans, your courage sleeps. 'Tis not for nothing
The Thunderer keeps this coil above your heads.
Rise, snatch your arms, and you, much injur'd Roman,
Give us to know the wretch, who dar'd defile
This lifeless innocent.
Col.
Sextus Tarquinius.
L. Jun.
To the moon, folly? Vengeance, I embrace thee!
Col.
Hah! 'tis the inspiration of the Gods
Speaks with thy organs. Can'st thou pardon, Brutus,
What in the phrenzy of my grief I utter'd?
29
I heeded not your phrenzy, nor your grief;
Your cause, your cause is all. How died Lucretia?
Col.
By her own hand she died—
L. Jun.
Heroic matron!
Col.
Here is the dagger! On its bloody point
Her life's last drops yet hang—
L. Jun.
Give me the dagger!
Come, let me grasp it—Hail, thou sacred weapon,
Virtue's deliverer, hail!—With this sharp steel,
Empurpled with the purest blood on earth
I cut your chains of slavery asunder.
Hear, Romans, hear! did not the Sybil tell you,
A fool should set Rome free? I am that fool;
Brutus bids Rome be free.
Col.
Oh glorious Brutus,
Thus let me press thee to my aching heart;
Thus weeping on thy neck adore the Gods,
Who have restor'd thee to avenge my wrongs,
And in my wrongs my country.
L. Jun.
Peace; be still.
Think not to melt me by this woman's wailing.
No; one perpetual, one relentless frown
Shall sear up this fixt brow, nor shall my heart
E'er beat a peaceful measure, these rude locks
Feel the disposer's touch, till I have buried
This dagger in the lewd adulterer's heart.
1 Rom.
Live, Brutus, valiant Brutus! Down with Tarquin!
2 Rom.
We'll have no Tarquins. We will have a Brutus.
3 Rom.
Let's to the Capitol, and shout for Brutus.
L. Jun.
I your king!
Brutus your king! no, fellow citizens,
If mad ambition in this guilty frame
30
By all the Gods, this dagger which I hold
Should rip it out, tho' it entwin'd my heart.
Val.
Then I am with thee, noble, noble Brutus!
Brutus the new restor'd, Brutus by Sybil,
By Pythian prophetess foretold, shall lead us.
L. Jun.
Now take the body up! Bear it before us
To Tarquin's palace; there we'll light our torches,
And in the blazing conflagration rear
A pile for these chaste relics, that shall send
Her soul amongst the stars. On! Brutus leads you.
| The Sybil or the Elder Brutus | |