Young Chartley.
First love, and best beloved!
2nd Luce.
Let me be both or neither.
Wise-woman.
[Aside.] My boy turned girl! I hope she’ll keep my counsel. From henceforth I’ll never entertain any servant but I’ll have her searched.
Old Chartley.
Her love hath drawn her hither after him.—
My loving daughter, welcome! thou hast run
A happy course to see my son thus changed.
Young Chartley.
Father, call me once again your son, and, Sir Harry, me your friend; Sencer, a hand, and Mistress Grace, a heart, in honourable love. Where I have wronged you, Luce, forgive; impute my errors to my youth, not me. With Grace I interchange an embrace; with you, Luce, a parting buss. I wish you all joy. Divide my heart amongst you—thou my soul!
Nay, Mother Midnight, there’s some love for you;
Out of thy folly, being reputed wise,
We, self-conceited, have our follies found:
Bear thou the name of all these comical acts.
Luce, Luce, and Grace—O covetous man! I see
I sought to engross what now sufficeth three,
Yet each one wife enough. One nuptial feast
Shall serve three bridals, where be thou chief guest!
[Exeunt.
Anedition ofThe Rape of Lucrecewas published in 1608; two other editions followed in 1609, and others again in 1630 and 1638. It was acted at the Red Bull in Clerkenwell. In the old copies neither the acts nor the scenes, excepting in the case of the senate scenes, are marked; in the present reprint the divisions are given, it is hoped, with approximate correctness.
Ithath been no custom in me of all other men (courteous readers) to commit my plays to the press; the reason though some may attribute to my own insufficiency, I had rather subscribe, in that, to their severe censure, than by seeking to avoid the imputation of weakness, to incur greater suspicion of honesty: for, though some have used a double sale of their labours, first to the stage, and after to the press, for my own part I here proclaim myself ever faithful in the first, and never guilty of the last. Yet since some of my plays have (unknown to me, and without any of my direction) accidentally come into the printer’s hands, and therefore so corrupt and mangled (copied only by the ear) that I have been as unable to know them as ashamed to challenge them, this therefore I was the willinger to furnish out in his native habit: first being by consent; next because the rest have been so wronged, in being published in such savage and ragged ornaments. Accept it, courteous gentlemen, and prove as favourable readers as we have found you gracious auditors.
Yours, T. H.
Servius, King of Rome.
Tarquinthe Proud.
The two Sons ofTarquin:
Aruns,
Sextus,
Brutus Junior.
Collatinus, otherwiseCollatine.
Horatius Cocles.
Mutius Scevola.
Lucretius.
Valerius.
Poplicola.
Porsenna, King of the Tuscans.
Porsenna’sSecretary.
The Priest of Apollo.
Two Sentinels.
Senators.
Serving-man.
Clown.
Lucrece, Wife ofCollatinus.
Tullia, Wife ofTarquin.
Mirable,Lucrece’sMaid.
SCENE.—Romeand its outskirts,Delphi, andArdea.
EnterTarquin, Tullia, Sextus, Aruns, Lucretius, Valerius, Poplicola,andSenatorsbefore them.
Tullia.
Withdraw; we must have private conference
With our dear husband.
[Exeunt all exceptTarquinandTullia.
Tarquin.
What wouldst thou, wife?
Tullia.
Be what I am not; make thee greater far
Than thou canst aim to be.
Tarquin.
Why, I am Tarquin.
Tullia.
And I am Tullia—what of that?
What diapason’s more in Tarquin’s name
Than in a subject’s? or what’s Tullia
More in the sound than to become the name
Of a poor maid or waiting gentlewoman?
I am a princess both by birth and thoughts,
Yet all’s but Tullia. There’s no resonance
In a bare style; my title bears no breadth,
Nor hath it any state. O me, I’m sick!
Tarquin.
Sick, lady!
Tullia.
Sick at heart.
Tarquin.
Why, my sweet Tullia?
Tullia.
To be a queen I long, long, and am sick;
With ardency my hot appetite’s a-fire,
Till my swollen fervour be deliverèd
Of that great title queen. My heart’s all royal,
Not to be circumscribed in servile bounds.
While there’s a king that rules the peers of Rome,
Tarquin makes legs,[1]and Tullia curtsies low,
Bows at each nod, and must not near the state
Without obeisance. Oh! I hate this awe;
My proud heart cannot brook it.
Tarquin.
Hear me, wife.
Tullia.
I am no wife of Tarquin’s if not king:
Oh, had Jove made me man, I would have mounted
Above the base tribunals of the earth,
Up to the clouds, for pompous sovereignty.
Thou art a man: oh, bear my royal mind,
Mount heaven, and see if Tullia lag behind.
There is no earth in me, I am all fire;
Were Tarquin so, then should we both aspire.
Tarquin.
O Tullia, though my body taste of dulness,
My soul is winged to soar as high as thine;
But note what flags our wings,—forty-five years
The king thy father hath protected Rome.
Tullia.
That makes for us: the people covet change;
Even the best things in time grow tedious.
Tarquin.
’Twould seem unnatural in thee, my Tullia,
The reverend king thy father to depose.
Tullia.
A kingdom’s quest makes sons and fathers foes.
Tarquin.
And but by Servius’ fall we cannot climb;
The balm[2]that must anoint us is his blood.
Tullia.
Let’s lave our brows then in that crimson flood;
We must be bold and dreadless: who aspires,
Mounts by the lives of fathers, sons, and sires.
Tarquin.
And so must I, since, for a kingdom’s love,
Thou canst despise a father for a crown.
Tarquin shall mount, Servius be tumbled down,
For he usurps my state, and first deposed
My father in my swathèd infancy,
For which he shall be countant:[3]to this end
I have sounded all the peers and senators,
And, though unknown to thee, my Tullia,
They all embrace my faction; and so they
Love change of state, a new king to obey.
Tullia.
Now is my Tarquin worthy Tullia’s grace,
Since in my arms I thus a king embrace.
Tarquin.
The king should meet this day in parliament
With all the Senate and Estates[4]of Rome.
His place will I assume, and there proclaim
All our decrees in royal Tarquin’s name.
[Flourish.
Re-enterSextus, Aruns, Lucretius, Valerius, Collatine,andSenators.
Lucretius.
May it please thee, noble Tarquin, to attend
The king this day in the high Capitol?
Tullia.
Attend!
Tarquin.
We intend this day to see the Capitol.
You knew our father, good Lucretius?
Lucretius.
I did, my lord.
Tarquin.
Was not I his son?
The queen my mother was of royal thoughts,
And heart pure as unblemished innocence.
Lucretius.
What asks my lord?
Tarquin.
Sons should succeed their fathers: but anon
You shall hear more; high time that we were gone.
[Flourish. Exeunt all butCollatineandValerius.
Collatine.
There’s moral sure in this, Valerius:
Here’s model, yea, and matter too to breed
Strange meditations in the provident brains
Of our grave fathers: some strange project lives
This day in cradle that’s but newly born.
Valerius.
No doubt, Collatine, no doubt, here’s a giddy and drunken world; it reels; it hath got the staggers; the commonwealth is sick of an ague, of which nothing can cure her but some violent and sudden affrightment.
Collatine.
The wife of Tarquin would be a queen—nay, on my life, she is with child till she be so.
Valerius.
And longs to be brought to bed of a kingdom. I divine we shall see scuffling to-day in the Capitol.
Collatine.
If there be any difference among the princes and Senate, whose faction will Valerius follow?
Valerius.
Oh, Collatine, I am a true citizen, and in this I will best show myself to be one, to take part with the strongest. If Servius o’ercome, I am liegeman to Servius; and if Tarquin subdue, I am forviveTarquinius.
Collatine.
Valerius, no more, this talk does but keep us from the sight of this solemnity: by this the princes are entering the Capitol: come, we must attend.
[Exeunt.
EnterTarquin, Tullia, Sextus, Aruns, Lucretiuson one side:Brutusmeeting them on the other very humorously.[5]
Tarquin.
This place is not for fools, this parliament
Assembles not the strains of idiotism,
Only the grave and wisest of the land:
Important are the affairs we have in hand.
Hence with that mome.[6]
Lucretius.
Brutus, forbear the presence.
Brutus.
Forbear the presence! why, pray?
Sextus.
None are admitted to this grave concourse
But wise men. Nay, good Brutus.
Brutus.
You’ll have an empty parliament then.
Aruns.
Here is no room for fools.
Brutus.
Then what makest thou here, or he, or he? O Jupiter! if this command be kept strictly, we shall have empty benches: get you home, you that are here, for here will be nothing to do this day. A general concourse of wise men! ’twas never seen since the first chaos. Tarquin, if the general rule have no exceptions, thou wilt have an empty consistory.
Tullia.
Brutus, you trouble us.
Brutus.
How powerful am I, you Roman deities, that am able to trouble her that troubles a whole empire! Fools exempted, and women admitted! laugh, Democritus.[7]But have you nothing to say to madmen?
Tarquin.
Madmen have here no place.
Brutus.
Then out of doors with Tarquin. What’s he that may sit in a calm valley, and will choose to repose in a tempestuous mountain, but a madman? that may live in tranquillous pleasures, and will seek out a kingdom’s care, but a madman? who would seek innovation in a commonwealth in public, or be overruled by a curst[8]wife in private, but a fool or a madman? Give me thy hand, Tarquin; shall we two be dismissed together from the Capitol?
Tarquin.
Restrain his folly.
Tullia.
Drive the frantic hence.
Aruns.
Nay, Brutus.
Sextus.
Good Brutus.
Brutus.
Nay, soft, soft, good blood of the Tarquins, let’s have a few cold words first, and I am gone in an instant. I claim the privilege of the nobility of Rome, and by that privilege my seat in the Capitol. I am a lord by birth, my place is as free in the Capitol as Horatius, thine; or thine, Lucretius; thine, Sextus; Aruns, thine; or any here: I am a lord, and you banish all the lord fools from the presence. You’ll have few to wait upon the king, but gentlemen. Nay, I am easily persuaded then—hands off! since you will not have my company, you shall have my room.
[Aside.] My room indeed; for what I seem to be
Brutus is not, but born great Rome[9]to free.
The state is full of dropsy, and swollen big
With windy vapours, which my sword must pierce,
To purge the infected blood bred by the pride
Of these infested bloods. Nay, now I go;
Behold, I vanish, since ’tis Tarquin’s mind:
One small fool goes, but great fools leaves behind. [Exit.
Lucretius.
’Tis pity one so generously[10]derived
Should be deprived his best induements thus,
And want the true directions of the soul.
Tarquin.
To leave these dilatory trifles, lords,
Now to the public business of the land.
Lords, take your several places.
Lucretius.
Not, great Tarquin,
Before the king assume his regal throne,
Whose coming we attend.
Tullia.
He’s come already.
Lucretius.
The king?
Tarquin.
The king.
Collatine.
Servius?
Tarquin.
Tarquinius.
Lucretius.
Servius is king.
Tarquin.
He was: by power divine[11]
The throne that long since he usurped is mine.
Here we enthrone ourselves, cathedral state,
Long since detained us, justly we resume;
Then let our friends and such as love us cry,
Live Tarquin, and enjoy this sovereignty!
All.
Live Tarquin and enjoy this sovereignty!
[Flourish.
EnterValerius.
Valerius.
The king himself, with such confederate peers
As stoutly embrace his faction, being informed
Of Tarquin’s usurpation, armèd comes
Near to the entrance of the Capitol.
Tarquin.
No man give place; he that dares to arise
And do him reverence, we his love despise.
EnterServius, Horatius, Scevola,andSoldiers.
Servius.
Traitor!
Tarquin.
Usurper!
Servius.
Descend.
Tullia.
Sit still.
Servius.
In Servius’ name, Rome’s great imperial monarch,
I charge thee, Tarquin, disenthrone thyself,
And throw thee at our feet, prostrate for mercy.
Horatius.
Spoke like a king.
Tarquin.
In Tarquin’s name, now Rome’s imperial monarch,
We charge thee, Servius, make free resignation
Of that arched wreath thou hast usurped so long.
Tullia.
Words worth an empire.
Horatius.
Shall this be brooked, my sovereign?
Dismount the traitor.
Sextus.
Touch him he that dares.
Horatius.
Dares!
Tullia.
Dares.
Servius.
Strumpet, no child of mine!
Tullia.
Dotard, and not my father!
Servius.
Kneel to thy king.
Tullia.
Submit thou to thy queen.
Servius.
Insufferable treason! with bright steel
Lop down these interponents that withstand
The passage to our throne.
Horatius.
That Cocles dares.
Sextus.
We with our steel guard Tarquin and his chair.
Scevola.
A Servius!
Aruns.
A Tarquin!
[They fight;Serviusis slain.
Tarquin.
Now are we king indeed; our awe is builded
Upon this royal base, the slaughtered body
Of a dead king; we by his ruin rise
To a monarchal throne.
Tullia.
We have our longing;
My father’s death gives me a second life
Much better than the first; my birth was servile,
But this new breath of reign is large and free:
Welcome, my second life of sovereignty!
Lucretius.
I have a daughter, but, I hope, of mettle
Subject to better temperature; should my Lucrece
Be of this pride, these hands should sacrifice
Her blood unto the gods that dwell below;
The abortive brat should not out-live my spleen.
But Lucrece is my daughter, this my queen.
Tullia.
Tear off the crown that yet empales the temples
Of our usurping father—quickly, lords—
And in the face of his yet bleeding wounds
Let us receive our honours.
Tarquin.
The same breath
Gives our state life, that was the usurper’s death.
Tullia.
Here then by Heaven’s hand we invest ourselves:
Music, whose loftiest tones grace princes crowned,
Unto our novel coronation sound.
[Flourish.Valeriusleads forwardHoratiusandScevola.
Tarquin.
Whom doth Valerius to our state present?
Valerius.
Two valiant Romans; this Horatius Cocles,
This gentleman called Mutius Scevola,
Who, whilst King Servius wore the diadem,
Upheld his sway and princedom by their loves;
But he being fallen, since all the peers of Rome
Applaud King Tarquin in his sovereignty,
They with like suffrage greet your coronation.
Horatius.
This hand, allied unto the Roman crown,
Whom never fear dejected or cast low,
Lays his victorious sword at Tarquin’s feet,
And prostrates with that sword allegiance.
King Servius’ life we loved, but, he expired,
Great Tarquin’s life is in our hearts desired.
Scevola.
Who, whilst he rules with justice and integrity,
Shall with our dreadless hands our hearts command,
Even with the best employments of our lives.
Since fortune lifts thee, we submit to fate:
Ourselves are vassals to the Roman state.
Tarquin.
Your rooms were empty in our train of friends,
Which we rejoice to see so well supplied:
Receive our grace, live in our clement favours,
In whose submission our young glory grows
To his ripe height: fall in our friendly train,
And strengthen with your loves our infant reign.
Horatius.
We live for Tarquin.
Scevola.
And to thee alone,
Whilst Justice keeps thy sword and thou thy throne.
Tarquin.
Then are you ours. And now conduct us straight
In triumph through the populous streets of Rome
To the king’s palace, our majestic seat.
Your hearts, though freely proffered, we entreat.
[Music.
As they march,Tulliatreads onServius’sdead body and pauses.
Tullia.
What block is that we tread on?
Lucretius.
’Tis the body
Of your deceasèd father, madam queen;
Your shoe is crimsoned with his vital blood.
Tullia.
No matter; let his mangled body lie,
And with his base confederates strew the streets,
That, in disgrace of his usurpèd pride,
We o’er his trunk may in our chariot ride;
For, mounted like a queen, ’twould do me good
To wash my coach-naves[12]in my father’s blood.
Lucretius.
Here’s a good child!
Tarquin.
Remove it, we command,
And bear his carcase to the funeral pile,
Where, after this dejection, let it have
His solemn and due obsequies. Fair Tullia,
Thy hate to him grows from thy love to us;
Thou show’st thyself in this unnatural strife
An unkind daughter, but a loving wife.
But on unto our palace: this blest day,
A king’s increase grows by a king’s decay.
[Exeunt.
EnterBrutus.
Brutus.
Murder the king! a high and capital treason.
Those giants that waged war against the gods,
For which the o’erwhelmed mountains hurled by Jove
To scatter them, and give them timeless[13]graves,
Was not more cruel than this butchery,
This slaughter made by Tarquin. But the queen!
A woman—fie, fie! did not this she-parricide
Add to her father’s wounds? and when his body
Lay all besmeared and stained in the blood royal,
Did not this monster, this infernal hag,
Make her unwilling charioter drive on,
And with his shod wheels crush her father’s bones,
Break his crazed skull, and dash his sparkled[14]brains
Upon the pavements, whilst she held the reins?
The affrighted sun at this abhorrèd object
Put on a mask of blood, and yet she blushed not.
Jove, art thou just? hast thou reward for piety,
And for offence no vengeance? or canst punish
Felons, and pardon traitors? chastise murderers,
And wink at parricides? if thou be worthy,
As well we know thou art, to fill the throne
Of all eternity, then with that hand
That flings the trifurk[15]thunder, let the pride
Of these our irreligious monarchisers
Be crowned in blood. This makes poor Brutus mad,—
To see sin frolic, and the virtuous sad.
EnterSextusandAruns.
Aruns.
Soft, here’s Brutus; let us acquaint him with the news.
Sextus.
Content. Now, cousin Brutus.
Brutus.
Who, I your kinsman! though I be of the blood of the Tarquins, yet no cousin, gentle prince.
Aruns.
And why so, Brutus? scorn you our alliance?
Brutus.
No; I was cousin to the Tarquins when they were subjects, but dare claim no kindred as they are sovereigns; Brutus is not so mad, though he be merry, but he hath wit enough to keep his head on his shoulders.
Aruns.
Why do you, my lord, thus lose your hours, and neither profess war nor domestic profit? the first might beget you love, the other riches.
Brutus.
Because I would live. Have I not answered you? because I would live. Fools and madmen are no rubs[16]in the way of usurpers; the firmament can brook but one sun, and for my part I must not shine: I had rather live an obscure black than appear a fair white to be shot at. The end of all is, I would live. Had Servius been a shrub, the wind had not shook him: or a madman, he had not perished. I covet no more wit nor employment than as much as will keep life and soul together—I would but live.
Aruns.
You are satirical, cousin Brutus: but to the purpose. The king dreamt a strange and ominous dream last night, and, to be resolved of the event, my brother Sextus and I must to the oracle.
Sextus.
And, because we would be well accompanied, we have got leave of the king that you, Brutus, shall associate us, for our purpose is to make a merry journey on’t.
Brutus.
So you’ll carry me along with you to be your fool, and make you merry.
Sextus.
Not our fool, but—
Brutus.
To make you merry: I shall, nay, I would make you merry, or tickle you till you laugh. The oracle! I’ll go to be resolved of some doubts private to myself: nay, princes, I am so much endeared both to your loves and companies, that you shall not have the power to be rid of me. What limits have we for our journey?
Sextus.
Five days, no more.
Brutus.
I shall fit me to your preparations. But one thing more: goes Collatine along?
Sextus.
Collatine is troubled with the common disease of all new-married men; he’s sick of the wife: his excuse is, forsooth, that Lucrece will not let him go: but you, having neither wife nor wit to hold you, I hope will not disappoint us.
Brutus.
Had I both, yet should you prevail with me above either.
Aruns.
We shall expect you.
Brutus.
Horatius Cocles and Mutius Scevola are not engaged in this expedition?
Aruns.
No, they attend the king. Farewell.
Brutus.
Lucretius stays at home too, and Valerius?
Sextus.
The palace cannot spare them.
Brutus.
None but we three?
Sextus.
We three.
Brutus.
We three; well, five days hence.
Sextus.
You have the time, farewell.
[ExeuntSextusandAruns.
Brutus.
The time I hope cannot be circumscribed
Within so short a limit; Rome and I
Are not so happy. What’s the reason then,
Heaven spares his rod so long? Mercury, tell me.
I have’t, the fruit of pride is yet but green,
Not mellow; though it grows apace, it comes not
To his full height: Jove oft delays his vengeance,
That when it haps ’t may prove more terrible.
Despair not, Brutus, then, but let thy country
And thee take this last comfort after all:
Pride, when thy fruit is ripe ’t must rot and fall.
But to the oracle. [Exit.
EnterHoratius CoclesandMutius Scevola.
Horatius.
I would I were no Roman.
Scevola.
Cocles, why?
Horatius.
I am discontented, and dare not speak my thoughts.
Scevola.
What, shall I speak them for you?
Horatius.
Mutius, do.
Scevola.
Tarquin is proud.
Horatius.
Thou hast them.
Scevola.
Tyrannous.
Horatius.
True.
Scevola.
Insufferably lofty.
Horatius.
Thou hast hit me.
Scevola.
And shall I tell thee what I prophesy
Of his succeeding rule?
Horatius.
No, I’ll do’t for thee:
Tarquin’s ability will in the weal
Beget a weak unable impotence;
His strength make Rome and our dominions weak,
His soaring high make us to flag our wings,
And fly close by the earth; his golden feathers
Are of such vastness, that they spread like sails,
And so becalm us that we have not air
Able to raise our plumes, to taste the pleasures
Of our own elements.
Scevola.
We are one heart;
Our thoughts and our desires are suitable.
Horatius.
Since he was king he bears him like a god,
His wife like Pallas, or the wife of Jove;
Will not be spoke to without sacrifice,
And homage sole due to the deities.
EnterLucretius.
Scevola.
What haste with good Lucretius?
Lucretius.
Haste, but small speed.
I had an earnest suit unto the king,
About some business that concerns the weal
Of Rome and us; ’twill not be listened to.
He has took upon him such ambitious state
That he abandons conference with his peers,
Or, if he chance to endure our tongues so much
As but to hear their sonance, he despises
The intent of all our speeches, our advices,
And counsel, thinking his own judgment only
To be approved in matters military,
And in affairs domestic; we are but mutes,
And fellows of no parts, viols unstrung,
Our notes too harsh to strike in princes’ ears.
Great Jove amend it!
Horatius.
Whither will you, my lord?
Lucretius.
No matter where,
If from the court. I’ll home to Collatine
And to my daughter Lucrece: home breeds safety,
Danger’s begot in court; a life retired
Must please me now perforce: then, noble Scevola,
And you my dear Horatius, farewell both.
Where industry is scorned let’s welcome sloth.
EnterCollatine.
Horatius.
Nay, good Lucretius, do not leave us thus.
See, here comes Collatine; but where’s Valerius?
How does he taste these times?
Collatine.
Not giddily like Brutus, passionately
Like old Lucretius with his tear-swollen eyes;
Not laughingly like Mutius Scevola,
Nor bluntly like Horatius Cocles here;
He has usurped a stranger garb of humour,
Distinct from these in nature every way.
Lucretius.
How is he relished? can his eyes forbear
In this strange state to shed a passionate tear?
Scevola.
Can he forbear to laugh with Scevola,
At that which passionate weeping cannot mend?
Horatius.
Nay, can his thought shape aught but melancholy
To see these dangerous passages of state?
How is he tempered, noble Collatine?
Collatine.
Strangely; he is all song, he’s ditty all,
Note that: Valerius hath given up the court,
And weaned himself from the king’s consistory,
In which his sweet harmonious tongue grew harsh.
Whether it be that he is discontent,
Yet would not so appear before the king,
Or whether in applause of these new edicts,
Which so distaste the people, or what cause
I know not, but now he’s all musical.
Unto the council chamber he goes singing,
And whilst the king his wilful edicts makes,
In which none’s tongue is powerful save the king’s,
He’s in a corner, relishing strange airs.
Conclusively, he’s from a toward hopeful gentleman,
Transhaped to a mere ballater,[17]none knowing
Whence should proceed this transmutation.
EnterValerius.
Horatius.
See where he comes. Morrow, Valerius.
Lucretius.
Morrow, my lord.
Valerius.
[Sings.] When Tarquin first in court began,
And was approvèd king,
Some men for sudden joy ’gan weep,
But I for sorrow sing.
Scevola.
Ha, ha! how long has my Valerius
Put on this strain of mirth, or what’s the cause?
Valerius.
[Sings.] Let humour change and spare not;
Since Tarquin’s proud, I care not;
His fair words so bewitchèd my delight,
That I doted on his sight:
Now he is changed, cruel thoughts embracing,
And my deserts disgracing.
Horatius.
Upon my life he’s either mad or love-sick.
Oh, can Valerius, but so late a statesman,
Of whom the public weal deserved so well,
Tune out his age in songs and canzonets,
Whose voice should thunder counsel in the ears
Of Tarquin and proud Tullia? Think, Valerius,
What that proud woman Tullia is; ’twill put thee
Quite out of tune.
Valerius.
[Sings.] Now what is love I will thee tell:
It is the fountain and the well,
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is perhaps the sansing[18]bell,
That rings all in to heaven or hell;
And this is love, and this is love, as I hear tell.
Now what is love I will you show:
A thing that creeps and cannot go,
A prize that passeth to and fro,
A thing for me, a thing for moe,[19]
And he that proves shall find it so;
And this is love, and this is love, sweet friend, I trow.
Lucretius.
Valerius, I shall quickly change thy cheer,
And make thy passionate eyes lament with mine.
Think how that worthy prince, our kinsman king,
Was butchered in the marble Capitol:
Shall Servius Tullius unregarded die
Alone of thee, whom all the Roman ladies,
Even yet with tear-swollen eyes, and sorrowful souls,
Compassionate, as well he merited?
To these lamenting dames what canst thou sing,
Whose grief through all the Roman temples ring?
Valerius.
[Sings.] Lament, ladies, lament!
Lament the Roman land!
The king is fra thee hent
Was doughty on his hand.
We’ll gang into the kirk,
His dead corpse we’ll embrace,
And when we see him dead,
We aye will cry alas!—Fa la!
Horatius.
This music mads me; I all mirth despise.
Lucretius.
To hear him sing draws rivers from mine eyes.
Scevola.
It pleaseth me; for since the court is harsh,
And looks askance on soldiers, let’s be merry,
Court ladies, sing, drink, dance, and every man
Get him a mistress, coach it in the country,
And taste the sweets of it. What thinks Valerius
Of Scevola’s last counsel?
Valerius.
[Sings.] Why, since we soldiers cannot prove,
And grief it is to us therefore,
Let every man get him a love,
To trim her well, and fight no more;
That we may taste of lovers’ bliss,
Be merry and blithe, embrace and kiss,
That ladies may say, Some more of this;
That ladies may say, Some more of this.
Since court and city both grow proud,
And safety you delight to hear,
We in the country will us shroud,
Where lives to please both eye and ear:
The nightingale sings jug, jug, jug,
The little lamb leaps after his dug,
And the pretty milk-maids they look so smug,
And the pretty milk-maids, &c.
Come, Scevola, shall we go and be idle?
Lucretius.
I’ll in to weep.
Horatius.
But I my gall to grate.
Scevola.
I’ll laugh at time, till it will change our fate.
[Exeunt all butCollatine.
Collatine.
Thou art not what thou seem’st, Lord Scevola;
Thy heart mourns in thee, though thy visage smile;
And so does thy soul weep, Valerius,
Although thy habit sing; for these new humours
Are but put on for safety, and to arm them
Against the pride of Tarquin, from whose danger,
None great in love, in counsel, or opinion,
Can be kept safe: this makes me lose[20]my hours
At home with Lucrece, and abandon court.
EnterClown.
Clown.
Fortune, I embrace thee, that thou hast assisted me in finding my master; the gods of good Rome keep my lord and master out of all bad company!
Collatine.
Sirrah, the news with you?
Clown.
Would you ha’ court news, camp news, city news, or country news, or would you know what’s the news at home?
Collatine.
Let me know all the news.
Clown.
The news at court is, that a small leg and a silk stocking is in the fashion for your lord, and the water that God Mercury makes[21]is in request with your lady. The heaviness of the king’s wine makes many a light head, and the emptiness of his dishes many full bellies; eating and drinking was never more in use; you shall find the baddest legs in boots, and the worst faces in masks. They keep their old stomachs still: the king’s good cook hath the most wrong; for that which was wont to be private only to him is now usurped among all the other officers; for now every man in his place, to the prejudice of the master cook, makes bold to lick his own fingers.
Collatine.
The news in the camp?
Clown.
The greatest news in the camp is that there is no news at all; for being no camp at all, how can there be any tidings from it?
Collatine.
Then for the city?
Clown.
The senators are rich, their wives fair, credit grows cheap, and traffic dear, for you have many that are broke; the poorest man that is may take up what he will, so he will be but bound—to a post till he pay the debt. There was one courtier lay with twelve men’s wives in the suburbs, and pressing farther to make one more cuckold within the walls, and being taken with the manner,[22]had nothing to say for himself but this—he that made twelve made thirteen.
Collatine.
Now, sir, for the country?
Clown.
There is no news there but at the ale-house; there’s the most receipt. And is it not strange, my lord, that so many men love ale that know not what ale is?
Collatine.
Why, what is ale?
Clown.
Why, ale is a kind of juice made of the precious grain called malt; and what is malt? Malt’s M A L T; and what is M A L T? M much, A ale, L little, T thrift; that is, much ale, little thrift.