University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Scene I.

—Laurel grove beneath the temple at Delphi.
Enter Sextus, Aruns, and Brutus.
Sextus.
Who kisses first his mother shall be king:
So said the priestess. Oh, for sovereignty,
Goal of my disposition! I will run
A vehement, hot race for it. Away!

Aruns.
I am the elder-born, and prophecy
Dare not prevail against me. Fortune's name!
The Dullard tumbles. [To Brutus.]
Find thy feet again
When we are out of sight!

[Exeunt, running in rivalry.
Brutus.
Smoke of Cassotis, thou art in my brain!
I reel to think of it,—vile Tullia's lips
Shall give supremacy? The groaning hordes
Of the Cloaca, the dulled labourers,
Learn no interpretation of their doom:
The Lycian king forgets he was a slave;
The gods are despots. Thou deep, dewy grass,
Thou hast my kiss. [Kneels, and passionately kisses the earth.]
Is this the mystery?
Then would I be a dullard! Yet, O Earth,
Thy children shall be precious in my sight,
Their sweat remembered, and their blood avenged.
Now will I slowly home. My cherry-staff
Is gone, but I stand firm upon my feet:
I have received the message—Lord of Rome!

[Exit.

Scene II.

—The Roman Camp before Ardea. A tent: revelry and feasting. Sextus, Aruns, Collatinus, and Brutus.
Sextus.

Aruns.
Brother, I drink; yet verily I swear
You are so bent on empire that you praise
The monarchy of love with jealous tones.
Yet is your rule assured, for you were first
To take the seal of Delphic prophecy
From pressure of our mother's startled mouth.
You hold the bond of Fate, and yet you cherish
A grudging humour in your very worship
Of lordly Cupid.

Sextus.
I would have all things
Mine to their centre.

Aruns.
Dullard, do you hear?
He'd reach the core of your stupidity,
And call it his.

Brutus.
My common, homely pith,
Like that within the votive cherry-wand
I gave the god at Delphi! It is stuff
Scarce worth a prince's grasp. [Aside.]
I filled the wood
With gold, confessing, in Apollo's sight,
My inner nature brutishly involved,
And covered up with folly.

Aruns.
Collatine,
He laid a knotted staff upon the altar.
'Twas richly clownish.

Brutus.
[Aside.]
As it ever is
To dedicate oneself.

Collatinus.
Fantastic friend,
What meant thy deed?

Brutus.
I could not cheat the god
With dazzling show, who am a simpleton—
[Aside]
A mask I wear to save my forfeit life
From royal sentence, and I fear its weight
Presses my brain. I shall grow imbecile.

Sextus.
He fell among the laurels of the temple,
Tripped by his stumbling feet. 'Tis piteous
How chance for ever treats him as her slave.
[To Brutus.]
Hast been to watch the workmen in the fosse,
Hast balanced every sigh against each lash,
And registered the spadefuls of red earth,
As it were dyed with blood? Comrades, I've seen
Our lack-brain Lucius stand an hour in silence
Watching the filthy toil.

Brutus.
[Aside.]
Because I share
The dumb, subservient, despairing life
Of these degraded thousands, and my heart
Beats slowly to their sluggish pulses, I
Am made a beast by kingly wickedness,
Derided and unpitied; I, as they,
Have hints of mighty faculties within,
Dim, terrible, august.

Sextus.
Leave muttering!
These herds who found our palaces, and raise
Our temple on the Capitol, are born
As cattle for their labour; stripes alone
Can teach the rout activity. Enough!
Such slavish vermin are no festal theme.
We'll serve these delicates. Ho! bring wild figs,
A dish of honey! While our appetites
Are tempted by the choicest viands, such
As luxury is sage enough to relish,
Our Dullard in his pot of humble sweet
Shall dip his sorry fruit. We'll watch him feed
To give conviviality an edge.
Yet pleasure languishes. Let's drink our wives.
Here's to my Lesbia! She's dark as night,
And, like the night, is amorous; her breast
Pillows my triumph; for my sake she breathes,
Desires, adorns her beauty.

Aruns.
So her husband
Dreams with unstinted confidence. I drink
Lucilia, my white, adoring wife,
With jewelled face so shine her sapphire-glances
To meet me, and her lips unloose their bud,
Parting a rose of welcome for endearments
Of summer breath.

Sextus.
[Aside.]
She gives the rosy greeting
To all who dare to visit her.

Collatinus.
My turn!
Lucretia, to thy perfect self I drink,
And feel my homage injury.

Sextus.
Declare
Her beauties, her complexion, and her virtue.

Collatinus.
Blithe modesty, free honour, loveliness
That hath its sweet protection in itself,—
These are her praise, her holy wealth, and glory.
The flush of vernal bloom is on her cheek,
If she but breathe her heartfelt thoughts; her brows
Are golden as the pure moon's youngest curve,
Golden her hair; as unclosed marigolds,
Her brown, unfaltering eyes meet gracious looks,
And take them for the sun; her lips, like shells,
Bear music round their rims, and in her voice
The ear hath all her beauty o'er again.
So young she is, I feel a happy boy,
And yet a tender husband, when we kiss.

Sextus.
[Aside.]
He kindles me, I'm angry at his prize;
It is too much for any but a king.
[Aloud.]
You boast.

Collatinus.
No, Sextus, 'tis the blessèd truth.

Aruns.
You wrong our spouses with such shameless vaunts.

Sextus.
Let us to Rome and settle our dispute.
Now in the unsuspecting midnight watches,
We'll spy our wives, and learn what cheer they keep,
Making comparison of rival claims,
Who shall be titled perfect.

Aruns.
Let's away.
Come, Brutus, stutter forth thy Publia's praise,
Then will we visit her, and laugh to find
Our honest soldier's place hath been supplied
By some less warlike Roman.

Brutus.
Ride alone!
For Publia is waiting my return.
There would be no surprise, if that's the drift
Of your strange talk. She makes a ruddy hearth,
And runs to meet me when she hears my step.
That's all I boast of.

[Exit.
Aruns.
Heavy-witted speech!
He has no care for beauty.

Sextus.
[Aside.]
Am I mad?
Anticipation and a hungry pain,
Like joy, are in me at the very thought
Of meeting this Lucretia. She is chaste!—
A word to rouse the king that's absolute
Within my breast. Shall Collatinus rule,
And brag as he were owner of a realm
Unconquerably his? [Aloud.]
Let horses wait!
[Aside.]
Impatience swells against my heart, and stirs
Imagination's wild fecundity,
Begetting hopes and possibilities
Of exultation.

Collatinus.
'Tis a moving sky,
That casts a solemn veil o'er Dian's face,
As she were robed for death.

Sextus.
Mount, mount!

Collatinus.
I win.

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

—A chamber in the house of Collatinus at Collatia. Girls spinning; Lucretia at the door, looking toward the camp fires of Ardea.
Lucretia.
The stars
Do not now entertain me. All my thoughts
Are of my lord. How gracious are the gods
To give us women, in our lonely hours,
The very secret joy and company
Of our too distant loves! How could I bear
These parted months, save for this mystery,
This urgent, throbbing triumph at my heart,
This something that shall tell him how Lucrece
Doth in her bosom rate her Collatine,
This living message! O my child, my son,
Thy father must return that I may break
The joyous news; and yet I'll keep it close;
It is not for the lips. O thou and I
What welcome we will weave for him! I prate.
We who are mothers must be diligent,
And live by pious rule, that, in the womb,
Our sons may feel the discipline of law,
Restraining even such sweet impulses
As carry us to Ardea. Girls, we'll spin
Till midnight, for to-day we have not wrought
Our measured task. We must repair our sloth,
And force our too impatient drowsiness
To wait our pleasure. Merrily to work!
Virgilia,—ah, you must not be o'ertasked.
[Aside.]
A little orphan maid.
[Aloud.]
Go, child, to bed,
At break of morning to your work again,
With swifter shuttle. I will take your wheel.
[Exit Virgilia.
[Aside.]
It irks me, for I'm restless.

1st Maid.
Mistress, stay!
There's noise without of soldiers, and they come
Closer, as they were drawing to the house.
I tremble, lest perchance an enemy—

2nd Maid.
Nay, that is Roman laughter. Lady, list!
It may be from the camp.

Lucretia.
A messenger.
Your lord comes not with drunken revelry;
I never yet have heard him, ere I saw.
[Enter Collatinus and the Princes.]
Ah, he has guests, and hospitality
Raises this clamour. Dear my lord, I find
You're giving welcome. May I to your side
As hostess? [Goes up to Collatinus caressingly; greets the princes.]
'Tis most gracious thus to steal
An hour from camp. As cousins it were kind,
As princes 'tis a favour.

Aruns.
Ah, design
Is in our visit; we have made the round
Of our wives' chambers; the fair enemy
Was taken unawares. But Collatine
Insisted, with a bridegroom's arrogance,
Wisdom and circumspection would be found
Guarding his walls.

Lucretia.
It is most natural
He should be fearless, coming to his home.
Sweet princes, that betwixt my lord and you
There should be disputation, I must grieve;
But bless ye heartily for bringing him
Homeward, on any pretext.

Collatinus.
[Pointing to the maidens spinning.]
Look within.

Sextus.
[Aside.]
I cannot speak to her. Shame's on my lips.
She should have been my captive. Oh, how swift
The order to my tent! What works in me?
Ye gods, she is no stranger to my eyes;
I oft encountered her at feasts, a girl
So unambitious that I slighted her,
Courting disdainful Lesbia for my wife.
How is she changed! Is it the marriage rite
That thus hath sweetly wrought on her? Oh then,
The lady Juno can invest with charm
Out-matching Venus' lures. She is superb,
Radiant and free, and doth confer her face
Frankly as Phœbus his gold-dropping rays.
Have I no manners that I follow her
With stupid stare soon as she moves away,
And through my burning, hidden temples feel
Near me her queenly step? Were we alone, . . .

Aruns.
[To Collatinus.]
I must commend the beaming diligence
Of this fair company. You've won the wage;
Yet on one's slighter hours such industry
Would pall. Lucretia, do you play the lute?

Lucretia.
Yes, to myself, until I quite forget
Who makes the music. I must have sweet sounds
About my ears; the fountain and my bees
Content me in the garden, but within
There must be tunes.

Aruns.
Well, play to us.

Lucretia.
[Looking toward Collatinus.]
Another must command.

Sextus.
[Aside.]
Nothing in common! [Aloud.]
Yet if we entreat . . .

Lucretia.
O cousin Sextus, there's no singing-match
Betwixt us. Tidings of the oracle?
I burn to hear.

Sextus.
I shall be lord of Rome.

Lucretia.
Did the gods presage that?

Aruns.
He's impudent.
Delphi foretold Rome's rulership to him
Who first embraced his mother. He out-ran,
Being superstitious.

Lucretia.
There were three of you.
What said our Dullard to the prophecy?

Aruns.
He was left grovelling on the earth.

Lucretia.
Beware
How you interpret! Yet to rule our Rome . . .

Sextus.
[Aside.]
Ah, what a sigh! She would have empery.
[Aloud.]
When I am tyrant . . .

Lucretia.
O Tarquinius,
Use not that word. As Roman soldier earn
Your civic triumph. See the oak-leaves crown
Deservedly your brow. Come to our home;
'Tis still as Numa's grove; and here, methinks,
Some whispers reach us from the heavenly powers,
I will interpret to you. Collatine,
Give our young cousin welcome.

Collatinus.
To my house
I turn as to a temple, and the doors
Are open to all comers.

Aruns.
I shall bring
Lucilia hither.

Sextus.
I shall come alone.

Collatinus.
Each as ye list. We part in amity?

Aruns.
Owning that you possess the perfect wife.

Sextus.
[Aside.]
I love her; she is tempting me away
From my dishonour, and her soft reproach
Reminds me of my virtue. [Aloud.]
You would make
A hero of me?

Lucretia.
Or the gods forbid
Fulfilment of the Delphic augury!
Good-night, fair cousins.

Aruns.
Lady, take your rest.
You have brought fame to Collatine.

Collatinus.
Farewell.

[Exeunt princes.
Lucretia.
They're full of compliment. Ah me, 'tis strange
That any can speak lightly, or make jest
Of their deep, nuptial blisses, and not feel
What awe we owe each other when we love.

Collatinus.
Rebuke me, dear; among the rioters
I boasted of my wife.

Lucretia.
Dear Collatine,
Shall we keep chastely each for other's joy
Our bodies, and let common fame defile
The holy intercourse of wedded love?
That which a man can boast of is not his;
He shares it with the vulgar. We possess
What the All-ruling One holds secretly
Shut in His hand,—our votive offerings,
The things that we can never touch again,
This hearth that is the gods', this dear, dear bond,
That Juno blesses. Closer must I wind
Round you my guardian arms. When we are thus
Together, every care creeps from my heart.
You'll play to me?

Collatinus.
And we will praise the gods.

Scene IV.

—Rome, house of Brutus. Publia, Vindex feeding a lamp.
Publia.
They mock their father! Is it possible?

Vindex.

Why, he's dull outside; it vexes them. He
walks to the forum, with his face working. He doesn't
mind folk when he's anxious. All the same, it's not right
he should be jeered at by his boys. Mistress, you must
speak to them. They used to have a fear of their father.
I've carried them up squalling; they grew quiet when he
took them. Now they're all duty to his face; but to hear
them laugh at him behind his back! Oh, it grates on
the ear, that crisp, light laugh of a youngster, who does
not know the meaning of things, never guesses where a
groan comes from, and yet will jeer at the jerks and
tremour of one who has a weight of cares on his shoulders.
It's curious to watch Master; he doesn't seem like a freeman.
He's under some great patron in his thoughts; for
he never takes his pleasure as others do; it's must, must
with him all day. I thought it was the scourge taught
one the habit of saying must.

Publia.
They call him Brutus; he indeed affects
A dulness; but his boys to mock at him!

Vindex.

Affects a dulness! Yes, yes; and it takes a
man of sense to play the fool. Whatever he does, there
is a must behind. There's no chance in his circumstance.
If one has a heap of gold, the best way to keep envy off is
to protest it's in the charge of a simpleton. Master

might have been in bondage, he's learnt so many shifts.
But I take it ill his own children should mis-judge him.
It's just lightness.

Publia.
I'll speak to them. [Aside.]
Ah me, beshrew my heart,
But I, when I was young, oft laughed at him.
Yet, when I laughed at him, 'twas to prevent
The gravity of loving; for his moods
Were each most precious to me, and his faults
Right welcome, 'twas so sweet to pardon them.
[Aloud.]
I will reprove the boys, and smartly too.
Vindex, go, fetch me these unduteous sons.
You've cut me to the heart.

Vindex.

Tiberius is at the palace; he stalks in like a
lord. And he doesn't learn there to think much of his
parents. They're so masterful, these princes. But as
for the younger one, he'll come, if you want him. He
never refuses any one, and his mother!—

[Goes to summon Titus.
Publia.
Oh, she just dotes on him! It's wonderful!
In all his pranks there is an innocence.
I never could rebuke him.

[Enter Titus.]
Titus.
What a brow!
Mother, you never fetch me but to scold.
You trade on my sweet temper. Now, confess,
You dare not trouble your Tiberius;
Whilst I, who cannot suffer the least crease
Of this white forehead, must endure the frown
Of your displeasure. What's the new offence?
Too boisterous at the banquet yester-eve?
And idle? Well, when the great pedagogue
Has turned his back—

Publia.
Titus, you shall not thus
Speak of your father; 'tis undutiful.
You love him, and he bears with you, because,
Like your mother, you are foolish, gay, and yet,
Like her, most loving, Titus.

Titus.
Loving? Yes.
Mother, he puts us to too great a strain,
Forgetting that you gave us suck, and not
A grisly wolf that reared up Romulus.
He's no compassion.

Publia.
But you must be brave,
Being his son.

Titus.
Whew! I am sensitive;
I'm not made all of armour; underneath
I have a woman's skin. I'm just like you.
Tiberius can bear things; but I wish
Father would not o'er-task us past our years
In the way of our behaviour. We must have
Carouses, ay, and liberty.

Publia.
To-night,
'Tis pity you're abroad, he will return;
[You smile,—I say the priestess at my heart
Foretells his entry] he will look around,
And yet not ask for you. I dread that look.

Titus.
The age is past we clambered on his knee.
Sweet mother, you grow dearer to your sons
Each day; and father is so hard to reach.
Farewell.

[Kisses Publia and goes out hastily.
Publia.
[Aside.]
I am not wifely in my love
To dote upon the boy resembling me,
And yet 'tis not my fault.—This saucy slave
Has quite unsettled me. He's meddlesome,
And needs reproof. [Aloud.]
Vindex, I will to rest,
For there's no comfort in your company.
You're full of evil omens.
[Exit Publia.

Vindex.

Pretty lady! She's in the sulks, and doubtless
to-morrow Vindex will be whipt. They look so tender,
these ladies, but they never treat one fair. Master would
not hurt a messenger for bringing ill news. Why, there's
knocking. Two hours after supper-time, and our young
masters under starlight!

[He unbars the door.
[Enter Brutus.]
Brutus.
Good Vindex, is the household gone to rest?
Your mistress,—but my sons?

Vindex.
They're both without.
I fear me, master, they are something worse
For all this liberty; they're much abroad;
I dodge about and keep an eye on them.

Brutus.
You had no order; they will soon be men,
And must be practised in self-government.
Doubtless they are detained. You're not a spy;
You are my trusted servant. Get you hence,
And fetch your mistress hither, for my time
Is short; I must, ere dawning, to the camp.
[Exit Vindex.
I dare not tell her all,—she would be filled
With a too great ambition. Lord of Rome!
'Twould take a woman's fancy—and the cost:
These princes, who are kinsmen, torn from power;
The slaves, who should be citizens—What change!
What woe! for, when I strike, the Thunderer
Takes not a truer aim. Ah me! ah me!
Let the great Strangers see that right be done!
They are not of a race that giveth suck;
No urns are in their houses; they possess;
They have no words for welcome and farewell;
No tombs where frailty and transgression couch;
They have not grown gray hairs. Sweetheart, she comes!

[Re-enter Publia.]
Publia.
Dear, dear my lord, what kept you on the road?

Brutus.
The gods, my Publia. All, I trust, is well?
Our sons are duteous?

Publia.
Who is lord of Rome?
You come from Delphi. Love, disburthen straight,
And ease my curiosity. All swear
Our city's fortune hangs upon a kiss.

Brutus.
O Publia, you do not apprehend.
Heaven is not wanton with its yea and nay;
It lets men bear the issue of their deeds.
Hear what befell. I lay down on the earth,
In the grass, as it had been my mother's tomb—

Publia.
Then, Brutus, do you think the gods meant that,
And after all my Dullard caught the sense
Swifter than flying princes? It may be.

Brutus.
No, Publia; I had no thought at all
Save one of wonder. 'Tis a miracle
The Lord of eloquence should put my dumb
Beast-mouth to music; yet a god himself
Must stutter when he breaks the truth to men.

Publia.
But you will win great honour, if you speak.
Silvius the orator—

Brutus.
A flaccid man,
Of large, loose body, and ungirdled mind!
Not so doth Heaven purpose. Dear, be still:
There's much to bear.

Publia.
You do not tell me all.

Brutus.
I cannot, love. Think o'er my broken words,
While you are weaving for us. May the gods
Look kindly on our household peace. Farewell.

[Exit.

Scene V.

—The Camp before Ardea.
Enter Sextus.
Sextus.
I never can defile her. Did she quake,
Did my eye bring suspicion of her doom,
There were high exultation in my act.
But sink in her esteem, who finds the prince
In the bottom of my nature! Can it be
That women have no traffic in this sin,
That they can take us by the yellow hair,
As the goddess caught Achilles, and desire
Simply our noblest manhood and the prayers
Of our pure worship? Thus it seems with her:
She has no craving to be satisfied,
No lust to glut, no chafing appetite,
No prying, vile ambition. She is formed,
Through nature's cunning, unapproachable
Save by religious love or foul surprise,
That trembles at its hurry, knowing well
A pause forbids attempt. I am resolved
To visit her, and breathe her household air
That tempers greedy passion; her fresh laugh
Will ease my shameful pangs. I'll make her face
A remedy, for when I meet her looks,
I think of knighthood, princely faith, the bond
Of kinship with her husband, all that keeps
Her loveliness in trust from thriftless rape,
And fraudulent spoliation. You are here!

[Enter Aruns, hastily.]
Aruns.
With doubtful news. You must return to Rome.
What think you of an emptied treasury
For three imperfect parchments? Scarce returned
From Delphi to allay my father's fears,
Because a serpent lapped the altar food,
I find him the meek victim of a maid,
With something of a beggar in her mien,
And yet, confound her! an authority
That makes me cringe.

Sextus.
What are you jabbering of?
We must not rule by augury, nor let
A woman meddle with our destinies.
Who brought these scrolls?

Aruns.
The girl who offered them—
Most wonderful, with tremulous, wild lips,
And solemn eyes clear as the Alban lake,—
Bore nine within her bosom's fold when first
She stood before the king; a second time
She sought him with six volumes in her hand,
Their covers charred, and for these threatened leaves
Claimed the unbated price. This morn, with face
Wan as a shade, hasty, uneven step,
And floating scroll half parted to the wind,
She made fresh proffer of her heavenly wares.
Her gesture was significant; we seized
The fluttering, precious palm-leaves, and possess
The third, the fragment of the holy books,
For the grudged cost of the continuous nine.

Sextus.
A virgin sways the future of our race,
Dominates Rome, erects her prophecies
Above our power, takes gold and reverence!
By heaven, my pride
Will suffer not these women to control
The fortunes of the state, or even crush
The private bosom 'neath their government.
I'll not be fooled, lose treasure and delight
Through fear of their imperious chastity.
I'll break their power, revenge this sibyl's deed,
Hold to my will's design, nor abdicate
One jot of manhood's despotism. Soon
I'll be supreme.

Aruns.
What mean you?

Sextus.
To obtain
The crown of womanhood. I'll see my sire
As I ride homeward from Collatia.
To-night I journey thither.

Aruns.
Nay, desist.
Though you are younger, the king hath an awe
Of your displeasure; you can urge him back
To majesty. And for your private whim,
I never knew you fail of your desire.

Sextus.
Nor will I.

Aruns.
Sextus, you are something rash
To use your kinsman's rights for interview
With fair Lucrece; though galling, I confess,
Our cousin's triumph in his perfect spouse.
The summer fruits yield not a cooler glow
Than Lesbia's cheek. What need you in a wife
Save colour, welcome, softness, and repose?
All these are yours; the diligent Lucrece
Would waken you with early morning thoughts.
Take counsel: leave poor Collatine the guide
He needs—a young Minerva for the fool.

Sextus.
A wager on my enterprise!

Aruns.
I hold
No doubt of the issue; but, success attained,
I see no vantage in the victory.
Come with me to the temple.

Sextus.
Not to-day.
To-morrow meet me at the Capitol
Ere I return to camp . . . [Exit Aruns]
my business done.
O Alban sibyl, in the costly books,
Heavy with auspices of endless note,
Is my dominion celebrated, sung
In ancient verses? On the very eve
When Rome receives her written destiny
From virgin hands, I shall inscribe my rule
Deep in the honour of a Roman wife.
I'll no more trifle, hesitate, refer
Desire to conscience, stoop to self-raised fear,
But like an unswayed monarch singly do
The chief conception of my urgent mood.
Lucretia, do you feel the coming storm?
The sultriness of lust is in the air;
It chokes me as it rises in foul fume
From my embroilèd nature. I am sick
Of this suppression, and the courtesy
That I must feign. The lion shall be loosed
To-night, and all the secrets of his rage
Expounded to the prey,—that gives me force.
To-night! to-night! Meanwhile I'm circumspect.

[Exit.