SCENE II.--_The Outskirts of Rome_.

_Alarum. Enter_ Tarquin _and_ Tullia _flying, pursued by_ Brutus _and the_ Romans _with drums and colours_. Porsenna, Aruns _and_ Sextus _meet and join with_ Tarquin _and_ Tullia. Brutus _and the_ Romans _advance; they make a stand_.

Brutus. Even thus far, tyrant, have we dogged thy steps, Frighting thy queen and thee with horrid steel.

Tarquin. Lodged in the safety of Porsenna’s arms, Now, traitor Brutus, we dare front thy pride.

Horatius. Porsenna, thou’rt unworthy of a sceptre, To shelter pride, lust, rape, and tyranny, In that proud prince and his confederate peers.

Sextus. Traitors to Heaven, to Tarquin, Rome and us! Treason to kings doth stretch even to the gods, And those high gods that take great Rome in charge Shall punish your rebellion.

Collatine. O devil Sextus, speak not thou of gods, Nor cast those false and feignèd eyes to Heaven, Whose rape the furies must torment in hell Of Lucrece--Lucrece!

Scevola. Her chaste blood still cries For vengeance to the ethereal deities.

Lucretius. Oh, ’twas a foul deed, Sextus!

Valerius. And thy shame Shall be eternal and outlive her fame.

Aruns. Say Sextus loved her, was she not a woman? Ay, and perhaps was willing to be forced. Must you, being private subjects, dare to ring War’s loud alarum ’gainst your potent king?

Porsenna. Brutus, therein thou dost forget thyself, And wrong’st the glory of thine ancestors, Staining thy blood with treason.

Brutus. Tuscan, know The Consul Brutus is their powerful foe.

Tarquin, Tullia, &c. Consul!

Horatius. Ay, Consul; and the powerful hand of Rome Grasps his imperial sword: the name of king The tyrant Tarquins have made odious Unto this nation, and the general knee Of this our warlike people now low bends To royal Brutus, where the king’s name ends.

Brutus. Now, Sextus, where’s the oracle? when I kissed My mother earth it plainly did foretell My noble virtues did thy sin exceed, Brutus should sway, and lust-burnt Tarquin bleed.

Valerius. Now shall the blood of Servius fall as heavy As a huge mountain on your tyrant heads, O’erwhelming all your glory.

Horatius. Tullia’s guilt Shall be by us revenged, that, in her pride, In blood paternal her rough coach-wheels dyed.

Lucretius. Your tyrannies--

Scevola. Pride--

Collatine. And my Lucrece’ fate, Shall all be swallowed in this hostile hate.

Sextus. O Romulus! thou that first reared yon walls In sight of which we stand, in thy soft bosom Is hanged the nest in which the Tarquins build; Within the branches of thy lofty spires Tarquin shall perch, or where he once hath stood His high built aery shall be drowned in blood. Alarum then! Brutus, by Heaven I vow My sword shall prove thou ne’er wast mad till now.

Brutus. Sextus, my madness with your lives expires; Thy sensual eyes are fixed upon that wall Thou ne’er shalt enter; Rome confines you all.

Porsenna. A charge then!

Tarquin. Jove and Tarquin!

Horatius. But we cry a Brutus!

Brutus. Lucrece, fame, and victory!

[_Exeunt_.