SCENE II.--_The same_.

_Enter_ Tarquin, Tullia, Sextus, Aruns, Lucretius _on one side:_ Brutus _meeting them on the other very humorously_.[5.05]

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.[5.06]

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.[5.07] 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[5.08] 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[5.09] 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[5.10] 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[5.11] 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_.

_Enter_ Valerius.

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.

_Enter_ Servius, Horatius, Scevola, _and_ Soldiers.

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;_ Servius _is 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_. Valerius _leads forward_ Horatius _and_ Scevola.

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_, Tullia _treads on_ Servius’s _dead 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[5.12] 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_.