Scene VI The Camp at Ardea
Enter Brutus, Valerius, Horatius, Aruns, Scevola, and Collatine.
Brutus.
What, so early, Valerius, and your voice not up yet? thou wast wont to be my lark, and raise me with thy early notes.
Valerius.
I was never so hard set yet, my lord, but I had ever a fit of mirth for my friend.
Brutus.
Prithee, let’s hear it then while we may, for I divine thy music and my madness are both short-lived; we shall have somewhat else to do ere long, we hope, Valerius.
Horatius.
Jove send it!
Valerius.
[Sings.] Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft,
To give my love good-morrow.
Wings from the wind, to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I’ll borrow;
Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing,
To give my love good-morrow.
To give my love good-morrow,
Notes from them all I’ll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast;
Sing, birds, in every furrow,
And from each bill let music shrill
Give my fair love good-morrow;
Blackbird and thrush, in every bush,
Stare,62 linnet, and cock-sparrow,
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves,
Sing my fair love good-morrow.
To give my love good-morrow,
Sing, birds, in every furrow.
Brutus.
Methinks our wars go not well forwards, Horatius: we have greater enemies to bustle with than the Ardeans, if we durst but front them.
Horatius.
Would it were come to fronting!
Brutus.
Then we married men should have the advantage of the bachelors, Horatius, especially such as have revelling wives, those that can caper in the city while their husbands are in the camp. Collatine, why are you so sad? the thought of this should not trouble you, having a Lucrece to your bedfellow.
Collatine.
My lord, I know no cause of discontent, yet cannot I be merry.
Scevola.
Come, come, make him merry; let’s have a song in praise of his Lucrece.
Valerius.
Content.
[Sings.] On two white columns arched she stands;
Some snow would think them, sure,
Some crystal, other lilies stripped,
But none of those so pure.
This beauty when I contemplate,
What riches I behold!
’Tis roofed within with virtuous thoughts,
Without, ’tis thatched with gold.
Two doors there are to enter at:
The one I’ll not inquire,
Because concealed; the other seen,
Whose sight inflames desire.
Whether the porch be coral clear,
Or with rich crimson lined,
Or rose-leaves, lasting all the year,
It is not yet divined.
Her eyes not made of purest glass,
Or crystal, but transpareth;
The life of diamonds they surpass,
Their very sight ensnareth.
That which without we rough-cast call,
To stand ’gainst wind and weather,
For its rare beauty equals all
That I have named together.
For, were it not by modest art
Kept from the sight of skies,
It would strike dim the sun itself,
And daze the gazer’s eyes.
The case so rich, how may we praise
The jewel lodged within?
To draw their praise I were unwise,
To wrong them it were sin.
Aruns.
I should be frolic if my brother were but returned to the camp.
Horatius.
And, in good time, behold Prince Sextus.
Enter Sextus.
All.
Health to our general.
Sextus.
Thank you.
Brutus.
Will you survey your forces, and give order for a present assault? Your soldiers long to be tugging with the Ardeans.
Sextus.
No.
Collatine.
Have you seen Lucretia, my lord? how fares she?
Sextus.
Well; I’ll to my tent.
Aruns.
Why, how now! what’s the matter, brother?
[Exeunt Aruns and Sextus.
Brutus.
“Thank you.” “No.” “Well; I’ll to my tent.” Get thee to thy tent, and a coward go with thee, if thou hast no more spirit to a speedy encounter.
Valerius.
Shall I go after him, and know the cause of his discontent?
Scevola.
Or I, my lord?
Brutus.
Neither; to pursue a fool in his humour is the next way to make him more humorous. I’ll not be guilty of his folly; thank you, no! Before I wish him health again when he is sick of the sullens, may I die, not like a Roman, but like a runagate!
Scevola.
Perhaps he’s not well.
Brutus.
Well, then, let him be ill.
Valerius.
Nay, if he be dying, as I could wish he were, I’ll ring out his funeral peal; and this it is.
Come, list and hark;
The bell doth toll,
For some but now
Departing soul.
And was not that
Some ominous fowl,
The bat, the night-
Crow, or screech-owl?
To these I hear
The wild wolf howl
In this black night
That seems to scowl.
All these my black-
Book shall enroll,
For hark! still, still
The bell doth toll
For some but now
Departing soul.
Scevola.
Excellent, Valerius. But is not that Collatine’s man?
Enter Clown.
Valerius.
The news with this hasty post?
Clown.
Did nobody see my lord Collatine? Oh! my lady commends her to you; here’s a letter.
Collatine.
Give it me.
Clown.
Fie upon’t! never was poor Pompey so overlaboured as I have been. I think I have spurred my horse such a question, that he is scarce able to wig or wag his tail for an answer; but my lady bade me spare for no horse-flesh, and I think I have made him run his race.
Brutus.
Cousin Collatine, the news at Rome?
Collatine.
Nothing but what you all may well partake.
Read here, my lord, [Brutus reads the letter.
“Dear lord, if ever thou wilt see thy Lucrece,
Choose of the friends which thou affectest best,
And, all important business set apart,
Repair to Rome. Commend me to Lord Brutus,
Valerius, Mutius, and Horatius;
Say I entreat their presence, where my father
Lucretius shall attend them. Farewell, sweet!
The affairs are great, then do not fail to meet.”
Brutus.
I’ll thither as I live. [Exit.
Collatine.
I though I die. [Exit.
Scevola.
To Rome with expeditious wings we’ll fly. [Exit.
Horatius.
The news, the news? if it have any shape
Of sadness, if some prodigy have chanced
That may beget revenge, I’ll cease to chafe,
Vex, martyr, grieve, torture, torment myself,
And tune my humour to strange strains of mirth.
My soul divines some happiness: speak, speak;
I know thou hast some news that will create me
Merry and musical, for I would laugh,
Be new transhaped. I prithee sing, Valerius,
That I may air with thee.
Valerius.
[Sings.]—
I’d think myself as proud in shackles
As doth the ship in all her tackles;
The wise man boasts no more his brains
Than I’d insult in gyves and chains;
As creditors would use their debtors,
So could I toss and shake my fetters;
But not confess: my thoughts should be
In durance fast as those kept me.
And could, when spite their hearts environs,
Then dance to the music of my irons.
Now tell us what’s the project of thy message?
Clown.
My lords, the princely Sextus has been at home, but what he hath done there I may partly mistrust, but cannot altogether resolve you: besides, my lady swore me that whatsoever I suspected I should say nothing.
Valerius.
If thou wilt not say thy mind, I prithee sing thy mind, and then thou mayst save thine oath.
Clown.
Indeed, I was not sworn to that; I may either laugh out my news or sing ’em, and so I may save mine oath to my lady.
Horatius.
How’s all at Rome, that with such sad presage
Disturbèd Collatine and noble Brutus
Are hurried from the camp with Scevola,
And we with expedition ’mongst the rest,
Are charged to Rome? Speak, what did Sextus there
With thy fair mistress?
Valerius.
Second me, my lord, and we’ll urge him to disclose it.
Catch.63
Valerius.
Did he take fair Lucrece by the toe, man?
Horatius.
Toe, man?
Valerius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha ha, man!
Horatius.
And further did he strive to go, man?
Clown.
Go, man?
Horatius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man, fa derry derry down, ha fa derry dino!
Valerius.
Did he take fair Lucrece by the heel, man?
Clown.
Heel, man?
Valerius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
Horatius.
And did he further strive to feel, man?
Clown.
Feel, man?
Horatius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man, ha fa derry, &c.
Valerius.
Did he take the lady by the shin, man?
Clown.
Shin, man?
Valerius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
Horatius.
Further too would he have been, man?
Clown.
Been, man?
Horatius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man, ha fa derry, &c.
Valerius.
Did he take the lady by the knee, man?
Clown.
Knee, man?
Valerius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
Horatius.
Farther than that would he be, man?
Clown.
Be, man?
Horatius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
Valerius.
Did he take the lady by the thigh, man?
Clown.
Thigh, man?
Valerius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
Horatius.
And now he came it somewhat nigh, man.
Clown.
Nigh, man?
Horatius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
Valerius.
But did he do the tother thing, man?
Clown.
Thing, man?
Valerius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man!
Horatius.
And at the same had he a fling, man?
Clown.
Fling, man?
Horatius.
Ay, man.
Clown.
Ha ha ha ha, man, hey fa derry, &c.
[Exeunt.