University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The Forum.
The populace fill the stage. Brutus is discovered upon the Forum. The dead body of Lucretia is on a bier beneath. Collatinus Lucretius and the Female Attendants of Lucretia, stand around her corpse. Valerius and others are seen.
Br.
Thus, thus, my friends, fast as our breaking hearts
Permitted utterance, we have told our story:
And now, to say one word of the imposture,—
The mask necessity has made me wear.
When the ferocious malice of your king,—
King do I call him?—When the monster, Tarquin.
Slew, as you most of you may well remember,
My father Marcus and my elder brother,
Envying at once their virtues and their wealth,
How could I hope a shelter from his power,
But in the false face I have worn so long?

1st. Rom.
Most wonderful!

2d. Rom.
Silence! he speaks again.

Br.
Would you know why I summon'd you together?
Ask ye what brings me here? Behold this dagger,
Clotted with gore! Behold that frozen corse!
See where the lost Lucretia sleeps in death!
She was the mark and model of the time,
The mould in which each female face was form'd,
The very shrine and sacristy of virtue!
Fairer than ever was a form created
By youthful fancy when the blood strays wild
And never resting thought is all on fire!
The worthiest of the worthy! Not the nymph
Who met old Numa in his hallow'd walks
And whisper'd in his ear her strains divine
Can I conceive beyond her;—the young choir
Of vestal virgins bent to her. 'Tis wonderful
Amid the darnel, hemlock, and base weeds
Which now spring rise from the luxurious compost
Spread o'er the realm, how this sweet lily rose,—
How from the shade of those ill neighbouring plants
Her father shelter'd her, that not a leaf
Was blighted, but array'd in purest grace,
She bloom'd unsullied beauty. Such perfections
Might have call'd back the torpid breast of age
To long forgotten rapture; such a mind
Might have abash'd the boldest libertine,
And turn'd desire to reverential love
And holiest affection! Oh, my countrymen!
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!” Now, look ye where she lies!
That beauteous flower, that innocent sweet rose
Torn up by ruthless violence—gone! gone!

All.
Sextus shall die!

Br.
But then—the king—his father—

1st R.
What shall be done with him?

2d R.
Speak Brutus!

3d R.
Tell us!

Br.
Say, would ye seek instruction? would ye ask
What ye should do? Ask ye yon conscious walls
Which saw his poison'd brother, saw the incest
Committed there, and they will cry, Revenge!
Ask yon deserted street, where Tullia drove
O'er her dead father's corse, 'twill cry, Revenge!
Ask yonder senate house, whose stones are purple
With human blood, and it will cry, Revenge!
Go to the tomb where lies his murder'd wife,
And the poor queen, who lov'd him as her son,
Their unappeased ghosts will shriek, Revenge!
The temples of the gods, the all viewing heavens,
The gods themselves, shall justify the cry
And swell the general sound, Revenge, Revenge!

All.
Revenge! Revenge!

Br.
And we will be reveng'd, my countrymen!
Brutus shall lead you on; Brutus, a name
Which will, when you're reveng'd, be dearer to him
Than all the noblest titles earth can boast.

1st R.
Live, Brutus!

2d R.
Valiant Brutus!

3d R.
Down with Tarquin!

2d R.
We'll have no Tarquins!

1st R.
We will have a Brutus!

3d R.
Let's to the capitol, and shout for Brutus.

Br.
I, your king!
Brutus your king!—No, fellow-citizens!
If mad ambition in this guilty frame
Had strung one kingly fibre,—yea, but one—
By all the gods, this dagger which I hold
Should rip it out, though 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!

Br.
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!

[Exeunt; the mob shouting.