SCENE I.--_A Room in the House of_ Collatine.

_Enter_ Sextus, Lucrece _and_ Attendants.

Lucrece. This ring, my lord, hath oped the gates to you; For, though I know you for a royal prince, My sovereign’s son, and friend to Collatine, Without that key you had not entered here.-- More lights, and see a banquet straight provided. My love to my dear husband shall appear In the kind welcome that I give his friend.

Sextus. [_Aside_.] Not love-sick, but love-lunatic, love-mad: I am all fire, impatience, and my blood Boils in my heart, with loose and sensual thoughts.

[_Enter_ Servants, _who set out a banquet_.

Lucrece. A chair for the prince, May’t please your highness sit?

Sextus. Madam, with you.

Lucrece. It will become the wife of Collatine To wait upon your trencher.

Sextus. You shall sit: Behind us at the camp we left our state; We are but your guest--indeed, you shall not wait. [_Aside_.] Her modesty hath such strong power o’er me, And such a reverence hath fate given her brow, That it appears a kind of blasphemy To have any wanton word harsh in her ears. I cannot woo, and yet I love ’bove measure; ’Tis force, not suit, must purchase this rich treasure.

Lucrece. Your highness cannot taste such homely cates?

Sextus. Indeed, I cannot feed. [_Aside_.] But on thy face: Thou art the banquet that my thoughts embrace.

Lucrece. Knew you, my lord, what free and zealous welcome We tender you, your highness would presume Upon your entertainment. Oft, and many times, I have heard my husband speak of Sextus’ valour, Extol your worth, praise your perfection, Ay, dote upon your valour, and your friendship Prize next his Lucrece.

Sextus. [_Aside_.] O impious lust, In all things base, respectless, and unjust! Thy virtue, grace, and fame I must enjoy, Though in the purchase I all Rome destroy.-- Madam, if I be welcome as your virtue Bids me presume I am, carouse to me A health unto your husband.

Lucrece. A woman’s draught, my lord, to Collatine!

Sextus. Nay, you must drink off all.

Lucrece. Your grace must pardon The tender weakness of a woman’s brain.

Sextus. It is to Collatine.

Lucrece. Methinks ’twould ill become the modesty Of any Roman lady to carouse, And drown her virtues in the juice of grapes. How can I show my love unto my husband To do his wife such wrong? By too much wine I might neglect the charge of this great house Left solely to my keep; else my example Might in my servants breed encouragement So to offend, both which were pardonless; Else to your grace I might neglect my duty, And slack obeisance to so great a guest; All which being accidental unto wine, Oh, let me not so wrong my Collatine!

Sextus. We excuse you. [_Aside_.] Her perfections, like a torrent With violence breaks upon me, and at once Inverts and swallows all that’s good in me. Preposterous Fates, what mischiefs you involve Upon a caitiff prince, left to the fury Of all grand mischief! hath the grandame world Yet mothered such a strange abortive wonder, That from her virtues should arise my sin? I am worse than what’s most ill, deprived all reason, My heart all fiery lust, my soul all treason.

Lucrece. My lord, I fear your health, your changing brow Hath shown so much disturbance. Noble Sextus, Hath not your venturous travel from the camp, Nor the moist rawness of this humorous[5.54] night Impaired your health?

Sextus. Divinest Lucrece, no. I cannot eat.

Lucrece. To rest then.-- A rank of torches, there, attend the prince!

Sextus. Madam, I doubt I am a guest this night Too troublesome, and I offend your rest.

Lucrece. This ring speaks for me, that next Collatine You are to me most welcome; yet, my lord, Thus much presume,--without this from his hand, Sextus this night could not have entered here; No, not the king himself. My doors the daytime to my friends are free, But in the night the obdure gates are less kind; Without this ring they can no entrance find.-- Lights for the prince!

Sextus. A kiss, and so good-night--nay, for your ring’s sake, deny not that.

Lucrece. Jove give your highness soft and sweet repose!

Sextus. And thee the like, with soft and sweet content!-- My vows are fixed, my thoughts on mischief bent. [_Exit_.

Lucrece. ’Tis late; so many stars[5.55] shine in this room, By reason of this great and princely guest, The world might call our modesty in question, To revel thus, our husband at the camp. Haste, and to rest; save in the prince’s chamber, Let not a light appear.--My heart’s all sadness. Jove, unto thy protection I commit My chastity and honour; to thy keep My waking soul I give, whilst my thoughts sleep.

[_Exeunt_.