University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Scene I.

—Collatia. A terrace-garden.
Enter Lucretia through a myrtle bower.
Lucretia.
I know not if 'tis wholesome to escape
From my dark chamber out into the sun.
My tiny terrace-garden is my joy;
And often to escape I make excuse
The bees require my wisdom to direct
Their honey-traffic, lest my busy maids
Should charge their mistress with rank idleness.
[Looking at the bees.]
Would I were like them! for they toil and toil
With a gay diligence, and never sigh.
I spin all day when Collatine's at home;
When he's away I come to think of him,
For two brief moments, in the ilex-walk,
Alone, amid the happy outside things.
How it refreshes! [To Virgilia, who approaches.]
Do you love the flowers,
Virgilia?

Virgilia.
The roses, and those curling finger-leaves—

Lucretia.
The acanthus-bed. I love the stately trees,
Here under the great plane to lie and watch
The tide o' the wind flow in among the boughs,
And peep too at the sky without distress.

Virgilia.
I like best where the gardener clips the yew;
He's shaping it into a funny beast,
I think, a hog.

Lucretia.
He should not sculpture here,
In my own shady walk. He's made the swine
Snuffing a myrtle! Ah, my summer-house
Of fragrant light, my bonnie bower of bloom,
None shall look in on us.

[Lies down in the myrtle bower.
Virgilia.
They're little stars.

Lucretia.
Then they watch those in heaven, and, methinks,
A child should love them,—steady, shining flowers;
And the blood-berry,—one has dropt on me.
Go, girl, our wreaths are drooping; bind me one
Of any creeping cluster from the hedge.
[Exit Virgilia.
When my dear lord returns, I will be gay,
Meanwhile I'll mourn for him in weeds and briars.
My husband! How the moment I'm alone
I must be speaking with him. [Drawing tablets from her bosom.]
From my heart
I'll draw these warmèd tablets, and set down
My thousand little fondnesses and loves,
That cannot reach him;—there's no messenger.

[Re-enter Virgilia.]
Virgilia.
Lady, one asks for you, a kinsman, and—

Lucretia.
A kinsman! Nay, it is my Collatine;
There is no other man in all the world
That holds me in his thought. Thou foolish child,
Dost thou not know thy master?

Virgilia.
[Aside.]
It's a prince;
I think he's proud.

Lucretia.
Oh look! my hair has strayed.
He cannot suffer the least negligence.
[Kissing Virgilia.]
Virgilia, my little girl, O joy!
I needs must kiss thee for the gaiety
That springs up in my heart. Ye tablets, hence,
My tongue shall now be my interpreter;
Rather my lips with their dumb, kissing speech.
Virgilia,
My braids are duly set; how slow thou art!
[Enter Sextus.]
Let's to the house with welcome on our brows.

Sextus.
Sweet lady, an ambassador I come
From your most worthy husband. You look faint
And startled. Your good lord is well in health.

Lucretia.
I thought you were my lord; I must entreat—

Sextus.
I would I were your lord! but, as a frost,
Why should I chase these roses from your cheek,
Who yet am kinsman, cousin? Ah, the glow
Returns; it is the blush of bashfulness,
Not that first radiant herald of delight,
And journeying rapture, that made speed to me.
I must return to Ardea with the news
I have discomforted Lucrece, who came
To tell her of her hero, and confirm—

Lucretia.
There's no camp-gossip can confirm my faith
In Tarquin's valour.

Sextus.
I am glad my name
Is one with his; for, when you speak him fair,
I'll take advantage of the happy chance
To win the only favour that I prize,
That of my honoured hostess.

Lucretia.
You mistake;
You have a welcome of your own. My prince,
Most royally you keep your word to spend
Your passing leisure with us. [To Virgilia.]
Go, prepare
The guest-room; gather the fresh, ripening gourd,
The early figs, and prettily bedeck
Our simple dishes.
[Exit Virgilia.
The child's ignorant,
Yet of sweet, courteous nature. And, forsooth,
Her mistress lacks not hospitality,
Though from its fair, initiatory rites
An instant frightened. Let me take your hand.

Sextus.
[Detaining it.]
Too dear a gift to part with.

Lucretia.
[Aside.]
How his eyes
Swarm on me! Doubtless it is thus at court,
Where ladies must be flattered. [Aloud.]
Do you look
For further conflict on my cheeks? My fears
Are wholly overcome. You've much to tell.

Sextus.
Much to report. I swear that Collatine
Is a true Roman thus to leave his gods,
His heaven, his wife—

Lucretia.
To gird a stubborn town.
Rightly you rate his patience.

Sextus.
All his thoughts,
And his affections centre on the state.
Lucretia, little did my heart conceive
He owned such paradise.

Lucretia.
He doth not brag,
In the city, of Collatia, nor, at home,
Of his fair chivalry. I burn to know,
From warlike lips, how he becomes the camp,
What hope he crowns, what honours flock to him,
How he is served. This glowing afternoon
You will unfold the story? I forget;
You're heated from fast travel. Then we'll wait
Till the small winds of evening slack the heat,
And all your powers are fresh. Come in, my lord.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.

—The Camp before Ardea.
Enter Lucretius.
Lucretius.
A restlessness is on me! As the sun
Sinks down,—I know not why,—I hope my girl
Is happy; as the clouds rise, that she's safe;
These wenches! Ay, and mine is much alone
Of late, and needing cheerful company—
I'd like to chat with her. Now she is gone,
I've found my mateless days again, albeit
No youth to sweeten them. Well, well, I hope
To-night she's blithe, and busy at her wheel.
I'll set the watch.
[Enter Brutus.]
Brutus, your sons are grown.
I saw them in the market-place last week;
They bore their heads high.

Brutus.
As I came along
I thought of them.

Lucretius.
Your Titus has a gait
Too careless for his years; Tiberius
An insolent demeanour; 'mid the group
Of anxious faces these young citizens
Flaunted their new attire.

Brutus.
I fear they know
But little of the gravity that breathes
In the sweet verses of the oracle
Through which life speaks to youth. A father's part
Is somewhat an interpreter's.

Lucretius.
My child
Was rather priestess to my daily life,
Than I her seer. Brutus, I thought of her
Soon as I saw 'twas sunset on the tents.

Brutus.
Your hand! My thoughts were also fatherly.

Lucretius.
Come, we must find a soldier, who can fill
Prince Sextus' place. He's ridden towards the north,
Starting some hours ago. Here come the workers,
Who dig the mines beneath the eastern wall.

Brutus.
Stupid they tramp on, like o'erdriven herds,
But worse tire on their faces. [Aside.]
And of these
The Dullard may be the Deliverer!

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

—The house of Collatinus. Sextus sitting alone. After an interval, Lucretia enters, with tablets in her hand.
Sextus.
Lucretia, I must very early rise
To-morrow for the camp, ere any stir.
Most cruelly you've left me to myself
Since supper-time. Remember, I am come
To learn the secret of your happiness.

Lucretia.
Have you no friends, my prince, among your thoughts,
That thus you languish? What! no counsellors,
No grave instructors of a charmed discourse,
Whom you can summon to your solitude?
I, in my quiet hours, have learned to cull
My meditations from a motley rout
Of cravings, importunities, and fears;
And the few bosom-thoughts I entertain,
O'er-grateful for my hospitality,
Come to my side, unsought, when I am sick,
Sullen, or dull, and nurse me to content.

Sextus.
What thoughts, Lucretia?

Lucretia.
Oh, of simple things.
How we can bless each other, what deep hopes
The gods build in our people. I can see
The temple rising on the Capitol,
By the Sabines' holy places. On the throne
Sacred to youth Rome was forbid to build;
Her deity
May not be overborne; high Jupiter
Respects her altars. It is wonderful
To think Juventas should remain eterne
In majesty, and, by her votaries,
Stablish the city, and o'ercome the world.
Doth it not thrill your heart, Tarquinius?

Sextus.
Youth is a power,—ah! Lucrece, you divine,—
A tyranny hoar Jupiter reveres,
Nor in her precincts dares define the site
Of his triumphant rule. Youth shall prevail,
When pontifex and silent vestal cease
Their journey up the steep.

Lucretia.
I rather hold
It means religion would not violate
Nature's fair bounds, but rear her holy walls
Beside them neighbourly, nor aught transgress,
Save by intrusion of her solemn shade.
But, sooth, my cousin, I do owe excuse
For my withdrawal. The whole afternoon
You kept me a spelled listener on your lips,
And, for requital, won no counter tales
Of emulous enchantment; for my heart
Was gag upon my tongue. Some broken words
I have set down in secret to my lord,
And now may best commend your eloquence
By making you the convoy of my love.
[Presenting the tablets.
Bear these to Collatine. This genial hour,
Tell your dear camp-mate, hath revived my soul.
Thanks for your courteous journey, and farewell.

Sextus.
Good-night, fair cousin. In my bosom these.
[Taking the tablets.
There rest the ivory scriptures; but, your hand,—
A moment's gift; we're parting. You will dream
To-night of Sextus, and his colloquy?

Lucretia.
In simple frankness, no; my constant dream
Is of the camp.
I have a faithful fancy, and can trust
The flock of my unguarded thoughts to feed
Secure, as they were folded by the tent
Of Collatinus. Fare you well, my lord.

[Exit.
Sextus.
Farewell, farewell; from my dear worship's gaze
She's ravished;—I shall look on her no more,
No more revere her, feel her happy voice
Sway my insurgent thoughts no more. [Pressing the tablets.]
How cold
Her words! Oh, she is warm, enchanting, fond,
And soon to be enjoyed. She shall repay
Each pang she cost me, in my wanton hour,
Or death will ravage me. It is the end,
The purpose of these women; to deny
Is for the plighted vestal with her dread
Of the sealed chamber, and the waning lamp
In the entrails of the Capitol. I'll tear
[Taking out the tablets]
Now from her breast its secrets. Let us see
How fared she ere she came 'neath Sextus' rule.
[Reads.]
One golden hour with Tarquin have I sped:
Ay, and another shall be thine. Lucrece,
If I may be thy lover, we'll not speak,
Strive, nor reproach, but, with enwinding arms,
Mingle our silent passions in an act.
Let me read further. O my love, come quick,
For I grow faint to hear my soldier's praise,
And give him no reward. It is enough.
I will enact her Collatine, and reap
The pleasure he commands. The house grows dead.
I'll to my chamber. [Stumbling.]
She has left her lute;
I've crushed it, but no matter. She'll not need
To sing again. She'll weep and hold her peace.

[Exit.

Scene IV.

—Passage leading to Lucretia's room.
Enter Sextus stealthily.
Sextus.
Say, shall I rouse her as a conqueror,
And teach how women, in beleaguered towns,
Must hurry to the door when soldiers knock?
Not so; my jealousy hath finer sense.
From Collatine I'll ravish her, from dream
Of his close, nuptial kiss. Is she asleep?
[Enter Virgilia, closing Lucretia's door.]
I'll ask the child. Virgilia, what ho!
Hast sung thy mistress to her rest? Some word
I would have spoken.

Virgilia.
Sir, she does not sleep,
But stays awake most happy; and the moon
Lies right across her; though her eyes are wide,
I scarce should dare to go to her again.
She's like a statue.

Sextus.
But she'll rest anon.
Tread softly; bring me word she's fast asleep,
And I'll determine further.
[Exit Virgilia.
What! the moon!
I'll pause till Dian's watch be passed, and take
The guard at early morning. I will put
The offer to her of a murdered slave
For bed-fellow at Collatine's return,
Or absolute compliance to my will,
And the condition—secresy. Suppose
She risk her lord's displeasure to die chaste;—
I'll stab her to the heart, and violate
Simply her reputation. She shall choose,
Consent to all: 'twixt infamy and rape
I'll learn the odds. She has a voice that creeps
Like a warm dove to one's bosom; but all's weighed,
No clamour, no entreaty,—the bare terms—
Death, or surrender!

[Re-enter Virgilia.]
Virgilia.
It had grown quite dark:
I heard the breath—

Sextus.
Begone! [Exit Virgilia.]
It is the hour.
Whom shall I call, what gods shall I invoke,
What ancestor will multiply my powers
Till I grow superhuman? Tullia,
Give me thy tiger-heart, that I may drive
The steeds of my ambition past the spot
They rear at in recoil! Let me transgress
The bounds that circumscribe humanity,
And grow indefinite and huge in crime!
My mother, come—imperial—to my aid,
Gibe me with cowardice:—“What, Lord of Rome!
And shudder at a woman's chastity?”
Thou know'st the trick; it spurred me as a boy.—
Why, now 'tis dark,—I cannot feel the door. [OMITTED]
[Sextus passes in the early light, looking back at the door of Lucretia's chamber.]
I need not lock it; there's no treasure there,
No chastity, no secret. All her maids
Lie quiet. Will she rise and bid them spin,
And bear the heavy burthen of the day?
I heard some early notes of singing birds,
And broke away from her. She's lying dumb,
And murdered, murdered at the heart. O Death,
Take her to thy corruption,—she is vile.