 | Lucius Junius Brutus ; Father of his Country |  |
ACT II.
SCE. I.
The Forum.Tiberius, Fabritius, Lartius, Flaminius.
Tib.
Fabritius , Lartius, and Flaminius,
As you are Romans, and oblig'd by Tarquin,
I dare confide in you; I say again,
Tho I could not refuse the Oath he gave us,
I disapprove my Father's undertaking:
I'm Loyal to the last, and so will stand.
I am in haste, and must to Tullia.
Fab.
Leave me, my Lord, to deal with the Multitude.
Tib.
Remember this in short. A King is one
To whom you may complain when you are wrong'd;
The Throne lies open in your way for Justice:
You may be angry, and may be forgiven.
There's room for favor, and for benefit,
Where Friends and Enemies may come together,
Have present hearing, present composition,
Without recourse to the Litigious Laws;
Laws that are cruel, deaf, inexorable,
That cast the Vile and Noble altogether;
Where, if you should exceed the bounds of Order,
There is no pardon: O, 'tis dangerous,
To have all Actions judg'd by rigorous Law.
15
Among so many Accidents and Errors
That wait on human life? Consider it;
Stand fast, be Loyal: I must to the Queen.
[Exit.
Fab.
A pretty Speech, by Mercury! Look you, Lartius,
when the words lye like a low Wrestler, round, close and short,
squat, pat and pithy.
Lar.
But what should we do here, Fabritius? the Multitude
will tear us in pieces.
Fab.
'Tis true, Lartius, the Multitude is a mad thing; a
strange blunder-headed Monster, and very unruly: But eloquence
is such a thing, a fine, moving, florid, pathetical
Speech! But see, the Hydra comes: let me alone; fear not, I
say, fear not.
[Enter Vinditius, with Plebeians.
Vin.
Come, Neighbours, rank your selves, plant your selves,
set your selves in Order; the Gods are very angry, I'll say that
for 'em: pough, pough, I begin to sweat already; and they'l
find us work enough to day, I'll tell you that. And to say
truth, I never lik'd Tarquin, before I saw the Mark in his forehead:
for look you, Sirs, I am a true Commonwealths-man,
and do not naturally love Kings, tho they be good; for why
should any one man have more power than the People? Is he
bigger, or wiser than the People? Has he more Guts, or more
Brains than the People? What can he do for the People, that
the People can't do for them selves? Can he make Corn
grow in a Famine? can he give us Rain in Drought? or make
our Pots boil, tho the Devil piss in the Fire?
1. Cit.
For my part, I hate all Courtiers; and I think I have
reason for't.
Vin.
Thou reason! Well, Taylor, and what's thy reason?
1. Cit.
Why, Sir, there was a Crew of 'em t'other Night
got drunk, broke my windows, and handled my wife.
Vin.
How Neighbours? Nay, now the Fellow has reason,
look you: his wife handled! why, this is a matter of moment.
1. Cit.
Nay, I know there were some of the Princes, for I
heard Sextus his name.
16
I, I, the King's Sons, my life for't; some of the King's
Sons. Well, these roaring Lords never do any good among us
Citizens: they are ever breaking the Peace, running in our
Debts, and swindging our wives.
Fab.
How long at length, thou many-headed Monster,
You Bulls, and Bears, you roaring Beasts and Bandogs,
Porters and Coblers, Tinkers, Taylors, all
You Rascally Sons of VVhores in a Civil Government,
How long, I say, dare you abuse our patience?
Does not the thought of Rods and Axes fright you?
Does not our presence, ha, these eyes, these faces
Strike you with trembling? Ha!
Vin.
VVhy, what have we here? a very Spit-fire, the
Crack-fart of the Court. Hold, let me see him nearer:
yes, Neighbours, this is one of 'em, one of your roaring
Squires that poke us in the night, beat the VVatch, and deflowr
our VVives. I know him Neighbours, for all his bouncing and
his swearing; this is a Court-Pimp, a Baud, one of Tarquin's
Bauds.
Fab.
Peace thou obstreperous Rascal; I am a man of Honor.
One of the Equestrian Order; my name Fabritius.
Vin.
Fabritius! Your Servant, Fabritius. Down with
him. Neighbours; an upstart Rogue; this is he that was
the Queen's Coachman, and drove the Chariot over her Father's
Body: Down with him, down with 'em all; Bauds,
Pimps, Pandars.
Fab.
O mercy, mercy, mercy!
Vin.
Hold, Neighbours, hold: as we are great, let us be
just. You, Sirrah; you of the Equestrian Order, Knight?
now, by Jove, he has the look of a Pimp; I find we can't
save him. Rise, Sir Knight; and tell me before the Majesty
of the People, what have you to say, that you
should not have your neck broke down the Tarpeian
Rock, your Body burnt, and your Ashes thrown in the
Tiber?
Fab.
Oh! oh! oh!
Vin.
A Courtier! a Sheep biter. Leave off your blubbering,
and confess.
Fab.
Oh! I will confess, I will confess.
17
Answer me then. Was not you once the Queen's
Coachman?
Fab.
I was, I was.
Vin.
Did you not drive her Chariot over the Body of her Father,
the dead King Tullus?
Fab.
I did, I did: tho it went against my Conscience.
Vin.
So much the worse. Have you not since abused the good
People, by seducing the Citizens Wives to Court, for the King's
Sons? have you not by your Bauds tricks, been the occasion of
their making assault on the Bodies of many a virtuous dispos'd
Gentlewoman?
Fab.
I have, I have.
Vin.
Have you not wickedly held the Door, while the
Daughters of the wise Citizens have had their Vessels broken
up?
Fab.
Oh, I confess, many a time and often.
Vin.
For all which Services to your Princes, and so highly
deserving of the Commonwealth, you have receiv'd the Honor
of Knighthood?
Fab.
Mercy, mercy: I confess it all.
Vin.
Hitherto I have helpt you to spell; now pray put together
for your self: and confess the whole matter in three
words.
Fab.
I was at first the Son of a Car-man, came to the honor
of being Tullia's Coachman, have been a Pimp, and remain a
Knight at the mercy of the People.
Vin.
Well, I am mov'd, my bowels are stir'd: take 'em away,
and let 'em only be hang'd: Away with 'em, away with
'em.
Fab.
Oh mercy! help, help.
Vin.
Hang 'em, Rogues, Pimps; hang 'em I say. Why,
look you, Neighbours, this is Law, Right, and Justice: this
is the Peoples Law; and I think that's better than the Arbitrary
power of Kings. Why, here was Trial, Condemnation,
and Execution, without more ado. Hark, hark; what
have we here? look, look, the Tribune of the Celeres! Bring
forth the Pulpit, the Pulpit.
18
Enter Brutus, Valerius, Herminius, Mutius, Horatius, Lucretius, Collatinus, Tiberius, Titus: with the Body of Lucrece.
Val.
I charge you Fathers, Nobles, Romans, Friends,
Magistrates, all you People, hear Valerius.
This day, O Romans, is a day of wonders,
The villanies of Tarquin are compleat:
To lay whose Vices open to your view,
To give you Reasons for his Banishment,
With the Expulsion of his wicked Race;
The Gods have chosen Lucius Junius Brutus,
The stupid, sensless, and illiterate Brutus,
Their Orator in this prodigious Cause:
Let him ascend, and Silence be Proclaim'd.
Vin.
A Brutus, a Brutus, a Brutus! Silence there;
Silence, I say, Silence on pain of death.
Brut.
Patricians, People, Friends, and Romans all,
Had not th'inspiring Gods by wonder brought me
From clouded Sence, to this full Day of Reason,
Whence, with a Prophets prospect, I behold
The State of Rome, and Danger of the World;
Yet in a Cause like this, methinks the weak,
Enervate, stupid Brutus might suffice:
O the eternal Gods! bring but the Statues
Of Romulus and Numa, plant 'em here
On either hand of this cold Roman Wife,
Only to stand and point that public wound;
O Romans, oh, what use would be of Tongues!
What Orator need speak while they were by?
Would not the Majesty of those dumb Forms
Inspire your Souls, and Arm you for the Cause?
Would you not curse the Author of the murder,
And drive him from the Earth with Sword and Fire?
But where, methinks I hear the People shout,
I hear the cry of Rome, where is the Monster?
Bring Tarquin forth, bring the Destroyer out,
By whose curs'd off-spring, Lustful Bloody Sextus,
19
This Star of spotless and immortal Fame,
This pattern for all Wives, the Roman Lucrece
Was fouly brought to a disastrous end.
Vin.
O, Neighbours, oh! I bury'd seven Wives without crying,
Nay, I never wept before in all my life.
Brut.
O the Immortal Gods, and thou great Stayer
Of falling Rome, if to his own Relations,
(For Collatinus is a Tarquin too)
If wrongs so great to them, to his own blood;
What then to us, the Nobles and the Commons?
Not to remember you of his past Crimes,
The black Ambition of his furious Queen,
Who drove her Chariot through the Cyprian Street
On such a damn'd Design, as might have turn'd
The Steeds of Day, and shock'd the starting Gods,
Blest as they are, with an uneasie moment:
Add yet to this, oh! add the horrid slaughter
Of all the Princes of the Roman Senate,
Invading Fundamental Right and Justice,
Breaking the ancient Customs, Statutes, Laws,
With positive pow'r, and Arbitrary Lust;
And those Affairs which were before dispatch'd
In public by the Fathers, now are forc'd
To his own Palace, there to be determin'd
As he, and his Portentous Council please.
But then for you.
Vin.
I, for the People, come;
And then, my Mirmydons, to pot with him.
Brut.
I say, if thus the Nobles have been wrong'd,
What Tongue can speak the grievance of the People?
Vin.
Alas, poor People!
Brut.
You that were once a free-born People, fam'd
In his Forefathers days for Wars abroad,
The Conquerors of the World; Oh Rome! Oh Glory!
What are you now? what has the Tyrant made you?
The Slaves, the Beasts, the Asses of the Earth,
The Soldiers of the Gods Mechanic Laborers,
Drawers of Water, Taskers, Timber-fellers,
Yok'd you like Bulls, his very Jades for luggage,
20
To cleanse his Sinks, the Scavengers o'th' Court:
While his lewd Sons, tho not on work so hard,
Employ'd your Daughters and your Wives at home.
Vin.
Yes marry did they.
Brut.
O all the Gods! what are you Romans? ha!
If this be true, why have you been so backward?
Oh sluggish Souls! Oh fall of former Glory!
That would not rouze unless a Woman wak'd you!
Behold she comes, and calls you to revenge her;
Her Spirit hovers in the Air, and cries
To Arms, to Arms; drive, drive the Tarquins out.
Behold this Dagger, taken from her wound,
She bids you fix this Trophee on your Standard,
This Ponnyard which she stab'd into her heart,
And bear her Body in your Battels front:
Or will you stay till Tarquin does return,
To see your Wives and Children drag'd about,
Your Houses burnt, the Temples all profan'd,
The City fill'd with Rapes, Adulteries,
The Tiber choak'd with Bodies, all the Shores
And neighb'ring Rocks besmear'd with Roman blood?
Vin.
Away, away; lets burn his Palace first.
Brut.
Hold, hold, my Friends. As I have been th' Inspirer
Of this most just Revenge; so I intreat you,
Oh worthy Romans, take me with you still:
Drive Tullia out, and all of Tarquin's Race;
Expel 'em without Damage to their persons,
Tho not without reproach. Vinditius, you
I trust in this. So prosper us the Gods,
Prosper our Cause, prosper the Commonwealth,
Guard and Defend the Liberty of Rome.
Vin.
Liberty, Liberty, Liberty.
All.
Liberty, &c.
[Exeunt.
Val.
O Brutus, as a God, we all survey thee;
Let then the Gratitude we should express
Be lost in Admiration. Well we know
Virtue like thine, so fierce, so like the Gods,
That more than thou presents we could not bear,
Looks with disdain on Ceremonious honors;
21
First with our Bodies thus we worship thee,
Thou Guardian Genius of the Commonwealth,
Thou Father and Redeemer of thy Country;
Next we, as Friends, with equal Arms embrace thee,
That Brutus may remember, tho his vertue
Soar to the Gods, he is a Roman still.
Brut.
And when I am not so, or once in thought
Conspire the Bondage of my Country-men,
Strike me you, Gods; tear me, O Romans, piece-meal,
And let your Brutus be more loath'd than Tarquin.
But now to those Affairs that want a view.
Imagine then the fame of what is done
Has reach'd to Ardea; whence the trembling King,
By Guilt and Nature quick and apprehensive,
With a bent brow comes post for his Revenge
To make examples of the Mutiniers:
Let him come on. Lucretius, to your care
The charge and custody of Rome is given;
While we, with all the Force that can be rais'd,
Waving the Tarquins on the common Road,
Resolve to joyn the Army at the Camp.
What thinks Valerius of the consequence?
Val.
As of a lucky hit. There is a number
Of Malecontents that wish for such a time:
I think that only speed is necessary
To Crown the whole event.
Brut.
Go then your self,
With these Assistants, and make instant head
Well as you can, numbers will not be wanting,
To Mars his Field: I have but some few Orders.
To leave with Titus, that must be dispers't,
And Brutus shall attend you.
Val.
The Gods direct you.
[Exeunt with the Body of Lucrece.
Manent Brutus, Titus.
Brut.
Titus, my Son?
Tit.
My ever honor'd Lord.
Brut.
I think, my Titus,
Nay, by the Gods, I dare protest it to thee,
I love thee more than any of my Children.
22
How, Sir, oh how, my Lord, have I deserv'd it?
Brut.
Therefore I love thee more, because, my Son,
Thou hast deserv'd it, for, to speak sincerely,
There's such a sweetness still in all thy manners,
An Air so open, and a brow so clear,
A temper so remov'd from Villany,
With such a manly plainness in thy dealing,
That not to love thee, O my Son, my Titus,
Were to be envious of so great a Vertue.
Tit.
O, all the Gods, where will this kindness end?
Why do you thus, O my too gracious Lord,
Dissolve at once the being that you gave me;
Unless you mean to screw me to performance
Beyond the reach of Man?
Ah why, my Lord, do you oblige me more.
Than my humanity can e're return?
Brut.
Yes, Titus, thou conceiv'st thy Father right,
I find our Genij know each other well;
And Minds, my Son, of our uncommon make
When once the Mark's in view, never shoot wide,
But in a Line come level to the White,
And hit the very heart of our Design:
Then, to the Shocking purpose. Once again
I say, I swear, I love thee, O my Son;
I like thy Frame, the Fingers of the Gods
I see have left their Mastery upon thee,
They have been tapering up thy Roman Form,
And the Majestick prints at large appear:
Yet something they have left for me to finish,
Which thus I press thee to, thus in my Arms
I fashion thee, I mould thee to my heart.
What? dost thou kneel? nay, stand up now a Roman,
Shake from thy Lids that dew that hangs upon 'em,
And answer to th'austerity of my Vertue.
Tit.
If I must dye, you Gods, I am prepar'd:
Let then my Fate suffice; but do not rack me
With something more.
Brut.
Titus, as I remember,
You told me you were Marry'd.
Tit.
My Lord, I did.
23
To Teraminta, Tarquin's natural Daughter.
Tit.
Most true, my Lord, to that poor vertuous Maid,
Your Titus, Sir, your most unhappy Son,
Is joyn'd for ever.
Brut.
No, Titus, not for ever.
Not but I know the Virgin beautiful;
For I did oft converse her, when I seem'd
Not to converse at all: Yet more, my Son,
I think her chastly good, most sweetly fram'd,
Without the smallest Tincture of her Father;
Yet, Titus,—Ha! what, man? what, all in tears?
Art thou so soft, that only saying yet
Has dash'd thee thus? nay, then I'll plunge thee down,
Down to the bottom of this foolish Stream
Whose brink thus makes thee tremble. No, my Son,
If thou art mine, thou art not Teraminta's;
Or, if thou art, I swear thou must not be,
Thou shalt not be hereafter.
Tit.
O the Gods!
Forgive me, Blood and Duty, all respects
Due to a Father's name: not Teraminta's!
Brut.
No, by the Gods I swear, not Teraminta's.
No, Titus, by th'eternal Fates, that hang
I hope auspicious o're the head of Rome,
I'll grapple with thee on this spot of Earth
About this Theam, till one of us fall dead:
I'll struggle with thee for this point of Honor,
And tug with Teraminta for thy heart
As I have done for Rome: yes, ere we part,
Fix'd as you are by Wedlock joyn'd and fast,
I'll set you far asunder: nay, on this,
This spotted blade, bath'd in the blood of Lucrece,
I'll make thee swear on this thy Wedding night
Thou wilt not touch thy Wife.
Tit.
Conscience, heart and bowels,
Am I a man? have I my flesh about me?
Brut.
I know thou hast too much of Flesh about thee;
'Tis that, my Son, that and thy Blood I fear
More than thy Spirit, which is truly Roman:
But let the heated Chanels of thy Veins
24
Thou shalt renounce thy Father or thy Love.
Either resolve to part with Teraminta,
To send her forth, with Tullia, to her Father,
Or shake hands with me, part, and be accurs'd;
Make me believe thy Mother play'd me false,
And, in my absence, stampt thee with a Tarquin.
Tit.
Hold, Sir, I do conjure you by the Gods,
Wrong not my Mother, tho you doom me dead;
Curse me not till you hear what I resolve,
Give me a little time to rouze my Spirits,
To muster all the Tyrant-man about me,
All that is fierce, austeer, and greatly cruel
To Titus and his Teraminta's ruin.
Brut.
Remember me; look on thy Father's suff'rings,
What he has born for twenty rowling years;
If thou hast nature, worth, or honour in thee,
The contemplation of my cruel labours
Will stir thee up to this new act of glory:
Thou want'st the Image of thy Father's wrongs;
O take it then, reflected with the warmth
Of all the tenderness that I can give thee:
Perhaps it stood in a wrong light before;
I'll try all ways to place it to advantage.
Learn by my rigorous Roman Resolution
To stiffen thy unharrass'd Infant vertue:
I do allow thee fond, young, soft, and gentle,
Train'd by the Charms of one that is most lovely;
Yet, Titus, this must all be lost, when Honor,
When Rome, the World, and the Gods come to claim us:
Think then thou hear'st 'em cry, obey thy Father;
If thou art false, or perjur'd, there he stands
Accountable to us; but swear t'obey;
Implicitly believe him, that, if ought
Be sworn amiss, thou may'st have nought to answer.
Tit.
What is it, Sir, that you would have me swear,
That I may scape your Curse, and gain your blessing?
Brut.
That thou this night will part with Teraminta.
For once again I swear, if here she stayes,
What for the hatred of the Multitude.
25
Her person is not safe.
Tit.
Here, take me, Sir;
Take me before I cool: I swear this night
That I will part with (Oh!) my Teraminta.
Brut.
Swear too, and by the Soul of Ravish'd Lucrece,
Tho on thy Bridal night, thou wilt not touch her.
Tit.
I swear, ev'n by the Soul of her you nam'd,
The Ravish'd Lucrece, Oh th' Immortal Gods!
I will not touch her.
Brut.
So; I trust thy Virtue:
And, by the Gods, I thank thee for the Conquest.
Once more, with all the blessings I can give thee,
I take thee to my arms; thus on my brest,
The hard and rugged Pillow of thy Honor,
I wean thee from thy Love: Farewel; be fast
To what thou'st sworn, and I am thine for ever.
[Exit.
Tit.
solus.
To what thou 'st sworn! Oh Heaven and Earth what's that?
What have I sworn? to part with Teraminta?
To part with something dearer to my heart
Than my Life's drops? What! not this night enjoy her?
Renounce my Vows, the Rights, the Dues of Marriage,
Which now I gave her, and the Priest was witness,
Bless'd with a floud that stream'd from both our eyes,
And seal'd with sighs, and smiles, and deathless kisses;
Yet after this to swear thou wilt not touch her!
Oh, all the Gods, I did forswear my self
In swearing that, and will forswear again:
Not touch her! O thou perjur'd Braggard; where,
Where are thy Vaunts, thy Protestations now?
Enter Teraminta.
She comes to strike thy staggering Duty down:
'Tis fall'n, 'tis gone; Oh, Teraminta, come,
Come to my arms thou only joy of Titus,
Hush to my cares, thou mass of hoarded sweets,
Selected hour of all Life's happy moments;
What shall I say to thee?
Ter.
Say any thing;
For while you speak, methinks a sudden calm,
In spight of all the horror that surrounds me,
26
And puts my Soul in Tune. O, Titus, Oh!
Methinks my Spirit shivers in her house,
Shrugging, as if she long'd to be at rest;
With this foresight, to dye thus in your arms
Were to prevent a world of following ills.
Ter.
What ills, my Love? what power has Fortune now
But we can brave? 'Tis true, my Teraminta
The Body of the World is out of frame,
The vast distorted limbs are on the Rack
And all the Cable Sinews stretch'd to bursting,
The Blood ferments, and the Majestick Spirit,
Like Hercules in the invenom'd Shirt,
Lies in a Fever on the horrid Pile:
My Father, like an Æsculapius
Sent by the Gods, comes boldly to the Cure;
But how, my Love? by violent Remedies,
And saies that Rome, ere yet she can be well,
Must purge and cast, purge all th' infected humors
Through the whole mass; and vastly, vastly bleed.
Ter.
Ah, Titus! I my self but now beheld
Th' expulsion of the Queen, driv'n from her Palace
By the inrag'd and madding Multitude;
And hardly scap'd my self to find you here.
Tit.
Why, yet, my Teraminta, we may smile.
Come then to bed, ere yet the night descends
With her black wings to brood o're all the World.
Why, what care we? let us enjoy those pleasures
The Gods have giv'n; lock'd in each others arms
We'll lye for ever thus, and laugh at Fate.
Ter.
No, no, my Lord; there's more than you have nam'd,
There's something at your heart that I must find;
I claim it with the priviledge of a Wife:
Keep close your joys; but for your griefs, my Titus,
I must not, will not lose my share in them.
Ah, the good Gods, what is it stirs you thus?
Speak, speak, my Lord, or Teraminta dies.
Oh Heav'ns, he weeps! nay, then upon my knees
I thus conjure you speak, or give me death.
Tit.
Rise, Teraminta. Oh, if I should speak
27
I fear that I should give thee death indeed.
Ter.
Against your Love! No, that's impossible;
I know your God-like truth: nay, should you swear,
Swear to me now that you forswore your Love,
I would not credit it. No, no, my Lord,
I see, I know, I read it in your eyes,
You love the wretched Teraminta still:
The very manner of your hiding it,
The tears you shed, your backwardness to speak,
What you affirm you swore against your Love
Tell me, my Lord, you love me more than ever.
Tit.
By all the Gods, I do: Oh, Teraminta,
My heart's discerner, whether wilt thou drive me?
I'll tell thee then. My Father wrought me up
I know not how, to swear I know not what,
That I would send thee hence with Tullia,
Swear not to touch thee, though my Wife; yet, Oh,
Had'st thou been by thy self, and but beheld him,
Thou would'st have thought, such was his Majesty,
That the Gods Lightned from his awful eyes,
And Thunder'd from his tongue.
Ter.
No more, my Lord:
I do conjure you by all those Powers
Which we invok'd together at the Altar;
And beg you by the love I know you bear me,
To let this passion trouble you no farther;
No, my dear Lord, my honor'd God-like Husband,
I am your Wife, and one that seeks your Honor:
By Heaven, I would have sworn you thus my self.
What, on the shock of Empire, on the turn
Of State, and universal change of things,
To lye at home and languish for a Woman!
No, Titus, he that makes himself thus vile,
Let him not dare pretend to ought that's Princely;
But be, as all the Warlike World shall judge him,
The Droll of th' People and the scorn of Kings.
Enter Horatius.
Hor.
My Lord, your Father gives you thus in Charge,
Remember what you swore: the Guard is ready;
28
While you attend your Father.
Tit.
Oh, Teraminta!
Then we must part.
Ter.
We must, we must, my Lord:
Therefore be swift, and snatch your self away;
Or I shall dye with lingring.
Tit.
Oh, a kiss.
Balmy as Cordials that recover Souls;
Chast as Maids sighs, and keen as longing Mothers.
Preserve thy self; look well to that, my Love;
Think on our Covenant: when either dyes,
The other is no more.
Ter.
I do remember;
But have no language left.
Tit.
Yet we shall meet,
In spight of sighs we shall, at least in Heaven.
Oh, Teraminta, once more to my heart,
Once to my lips, and ever to my Soul.
Thus the soft Mother, tho her Babe is dead,
Will have the Darling on her bosom lay'd,
Will talk, and rave, and with the Nurses strive,
And fond it still, as if it were alive;
Knows it must go, yet struggles with the Croud,
And shrieks to see 'em wrap it in the Shroud.
| Lucius Junius Brutus ; Father of his Country | |