University of Virginia Library

SCE. I.

Collatinus, Tiberius, Vitellius, Aquilius.
Col.
Th' expulsion of the Tarquins now must stand;
Their Camp to be surpris'd, while Tarquin here
Was scolded from our Walls! I blush to think
That such a Master in the art of War
Should so forget himself.

Vit.
Triumphant Brutus,
Like Jove when follow'd by a Train of Gods,
To mingle with the Fates and Doom the World,
Ascends the Brasen steps o'th' Capitol,
With all the humming Senate at his heels;
Ev'n in that Capitol which the King built
With the expence of all the Royal Treasure:
Ingrateful Brutus there in pomp appears,
And sits the Purple Judge of Tarquin's downfal.

Aquil.
But why, my Lord, why are not you there too?
Were you not chosen Consul by whole Rome?
Why are you not Saluted too like him?
Where are your Lictors? where your Rods and Axes?
Or are you but the Ape, the Mimic God
Of this new Thunderer, who appropriates
Those Bolts of Power which ought to be divided?

Tib.
Now, by the Gods, I hate his upstart pride,
His Rebel thoughts of the Imperial Race
His abject Soul that stoops to Court the Vulgar,
His scorn of Princes, and his lust to th' People,
O, Collatine, have you not eyes to find him?
Why are you rais'd, but to set off his honors?
A Taper by the Sun, whose sickly Beams
Are swallow'd in the blaze of his full Glory:
He, like a Meteor, wades th'Abyss of light,
While your faint luster adds but to the beard
That aws the World. When late through Rome he pass'd
Fixt on his Courser, mark'd you how he bow'd
On this, on that side, to the gazing heads
That pav'd the Streets and all imboss'd the Windows,
That gap'd with eagerness to speak, but could not,
So fast their Spirits flow'd to admiration,
And that to joy; which thus at last broke forth:
Brutus, God Brutus, Father of thy Country!
Hail Genius, hail! Deliverer of lost Rome!
Shield of the Common wealth, and Sword of Justice!
Hail, scourge of Tyrants, lash for Lawless Kings!
All hail they cry'd, while the long Peal of Praises
Tormented with a thousand Ecchoing cryes
Ran like the Volly of the Gods along.

Col.
No more on't; I grow sick with the remembrance.

Tib.
But when you follow'd, how did their bellying Bodies
That ventur'd from the Casements more than half,
To look at Brutus, nay, that stuck like Snails
Upon the Walls, and from the Houses tops
Hung down like clustring Bees upon each other;
How did they all draw back at sight of you
To laze, and loll, and yawn, and rest from rapture!
Are you a man? have you the blood of Kings,
And suffer this?

Col.
Ha! is he not his Father?

Tib.
I grant he is.
Consider this, and rouz your self at home:
Commend my fire, and rail at your own slackness.
Yet more; remember but your last disgrace,
When you propos'd, with reverence to the Gods,
A King of Sacrifices should be chosen,
And from the Consuls; did he not oppose you?
Fearing, as well he might, your sure election,
Saying, It smelt too much of Royalty;
And that it might rub up the memory
Of those that lov'd the Tyrant? Nay, yet more;
That if the people chose you for the Place,
The name of King would light upon a Tarquin:
Of one that's doubly Royal, being descended
From two great Princes that were Kings of Rome?

Col.
But, after all this, whether would'st thou drive?

Tib.
I would to Justice; for the Restauration
Of our most Lawful Prince: Yes, Collatine,
I look upon my Father as a Traytor;
I find, that neither you, nor brave Aquilius,
Nor young Vitellius, dare confide in me:
But that you may, and firmly, to the hazard
Of all the World holds precious; once again
I say, I look on Brutus as a Traytor,
No more my Father, by th'immortal Gods.
And to redeem the time, to fix the King
On his Imperial Throne, some means propos'd
That savor of a govern'd Policy,
Where there is strength and life to hope a Fortune,
Not to throw all upon one desperate chance;
I'll on as far as he that laughs at dying.

Col.
Come to my armes: O thou so truly brave
Thou may'st redeem the errors of thy race!
Aquilius, and Vitellius, O embrace him,
And ask his pardon, that so long we fear'd
To trust so rich a Virtue. But behold,
Enter Brutus and Valerius.
Brutus appears: Youngman, be satisfy'd,
I sound thy Politic Father to the bottom,
Plotting the assumption of Valerius,
He means to cast me from the Consulship:
But now, I heard how he Cajol'd the People
With his known industry, and my remissness,
That still in all our Votes, Proscriptions, Edicts,
Against the King, he found I acted faintly,
Still closing every Sentence, He's a Tarquin.

Bru.
No, my Valerius, till thou art my mate,
Joynt master in this great Authority,
However calm the face of things appear,
Rome is not safe: by the Majestic Gods,
I swear, while Collatine sits at the helm,
A Universal wrack is to be fear'd:
I have intelligence of his Transactions,
He mingles with the young hot blood of Rome,
Gnaws himself inward, grudges my applause,
Promotes Cabals with highest Quality,
Such headlong youth as, spurning Laws and manners,
Shar'd in the late Debaucheries of Sextus,
And therefore wish the Tyrant here again:
As the inverted Seasons shock wise men,
And the most fixt Philosophy must start
At sultry Winters, and at frosty Summers;
So at this most unnatural stilness here,
This more than midnight silence through all Rome,
This deadness of discourse, and dreadful Calm
Upon so great a change, I more admire
Than if a hundred Politic heads were met,
And nodded Mutiny to one another;
More fear, than if a thousand lying Libels
Were spread abroad, nay, dropt among the Senate.

Val.
I have my self employ'd a busy Slave,
His name Vinditiuss, given him Wealth and Freedom,
To watch the Motions of Vitellius,
And those of the Aquilian Family:
Vitellius has already entertain'd him;
And something thence important may be gather'd,
For these of all the youth of Quality
Are most inclin'd to Tarquin and his Race,
By Blood and Humor.

Brut.
O, Valerius!
That Boy, observ'st thou? O, I fear, my Friend,
He is a Weed, but rooted in my heart,
And grafted to my Stock; if he prove rank,
By Mars, no more but thus, away with him:
I'll tear him from me, though the blood should follow.
Tiberius.

Tib.
My Lord?

Brut.
Sirrah, no more of that Vitellius;
I warn'd you too of young Aquilius:
Are my words wind, that thus you let 'em pass?
Hast thou forgot thy Father?

Tib.
No, my Lord.

Brut.
Thou ly'st. But tho thou scape a Fathers Rod,
The Consul's Ax may reach thee: think on that.
I know thy Vanity, and blind Ambition;
Thou dost associate with my Enemies:
When I refus'd the Consul Collatine
To be the King of Sacrifices; strait,
As if thou had'st been sworn his bosom Fool,
He nam'd thee for the Office: And since that,
Since I refus'd thy madness that preferment,
Because I would have none of Brutus Blood
Pretend to be a King; thou hang'st thy head,
Contriv'st to give thy Father new displeasure,
As if Imperial Toyl were not enough
To break my heart without thy disobedience.
But by the Majesty of Rome I swear,
If after double warning thou despise me,
By all the Gods, I'll cast thee from my blood,
Doom thee to Forks and Whips as a Barbarian,
And leave thee to the lashes of the Lictor.
Tarquinius Collatinus, you are summon'd
To meet the Senate on the instant time.

Coll.
Lead on: my duty is to follow Brutus.

[Ex. Brut. Val.
Tib.
Now, by those Gods with which he menac'd me,
I Here put off all nature; since he turns me
Thus desperate to the World, I do renounce him:
And when we meet again he is my Fo.
All Blood, all Reverence, Fondness be forgot:
Like a grown Savage on the Common wild,
That runs at all, and cares not who begot him,
I'll meet my Lion Sire, and roar defiance,
As if he ne're had nurs'd me in his Den.

Enter Vinditius, with the People, and two Fecialian Priests, Crown'nd with Laurel: two Spears in their hands; one blody and half burnt.
Vin.

Make Way there, hey, news from the Tyrant, here
come Envoys, Heralds, Ambassadors; whether in the Gods

name or in the Divels I know not; but here they come, your
Fecialian Priests: well, good People, I like not these Priests;
why, what the Devil have they to do with State-affairs? what
side soever they are for, they'l have Heaven for their part, I'll
warrant you: they'l lug the Gods in whether they will or no.

1. Pri.
Hear, Jupiter; and thou, O Juno, hear;
Hear, O Quirinus; hear us all you Gods
Celestial, Terestial, and Infernal.

2. Pri.
Be thou, O Rome, our Judge: hear all you People.

Vin.

Fine Canting Rogues! I told you how they'd be hooking
the Gods in at first dash: why, the Gods are their Tools
and Tackle; they work with Heaven and Hell; and let me
tell you, as things go, your Priests have a hopeful Trade
on't.

1. Pri.
I come Ambassador to thee, O Rome,
Sacred and Just, the Legate of the King.

2. Pri.
If we demand, or purpose to require
A Stone from Rome that's contrary to Justice,
May we be ever banish'd from our Country,
And never hope to taste this vital Air.

Tib.
Vinditius, lead the Multitude away:
Aquilius, with Vitellius and my self,
Will strait conduct 'em to the Capitol.

Vin.

I go, my Lord; but have a care of 'em: sly Rogues
I warrant 'em. Mark that first Priest; do you see how he
leers? a lying Elder; the true cast of a holy Jugler. Come
my Masters, I would think well of a Priest, but that he has a
Commission to dissemble: a Pattent hypocrite, that takes pay
to forge; lyes by Law, and lives by the Sins of the People.

[Exeunt with People.
Aqu.
My life upon't, you may speak out, and freely;
Tiberius is the heart of our design.

1. Pri.
The Gods be prais'd. Thus then: the King commends
Your generous Resolves, longs to be with you,
And those you have ingag'd, Divides his heart
Amongst you; which more clearly will be seen
When you have read these Packets: as we go,
I'll spread the bosom of the King before you.

Exeunt.