Asks both the strength of Brutus, and the wisdom
Of Lucius Junius.

COLLATINUS enters wildly, a bloody dagger in his hand, followed by VALERIUS and LUCRETIUS, R.

My wife! my wife! dear, dear, wronged, murdered wife!
O friends, Lucretia's dead! I plucked this steel
From my Lucretia's heart! This is her blood!
Outraged by Tarquin, with her own fair hand,
She forced her pure soul from its prison-house.
Howl, howl, ye men of Rome! Look! there she lies,
That was your wonder!

Ye mighty gods, where are your thunders now?
Ye men and warriors, have you human hearts?
Yet who shall dare to mourn her loss like me?

Enter BRUTUS, L.

Bru. I dare,—and so dare every honest Roman.
Luc. Whence comes this mad intrusion? Hence, begone!
Bru. The noble spirit fled! How died Lucretia?

Col. By her own hand she died!

Bru. Heroic matron!

Now, now the hour is come! By this one blow

Her name's immortal, and her country's saved! [Crosses, c. Hail! dawn of glory! [Snatching the dagger.] Hail, thou sacred weapon!

Virtue's deliverer, hail!

Hear,omans, hear! did not the Sibyl tell you,

A fool should set Rome free? I am that fool:
Brutus bids Rome be free!

Val. What can this mean?

[Crosses, L.

Bru. It means that Lucius Junius has thrown off
The mask of madness, and his soul rides forth
On the destroying whirlwind, to avenge
The wrongs of that bright excellence and Rome!
Luc. Can this be Lucius Junius ?

Val. Ha! The voice

Of inspiration speaks!

Col. Oh, glorious Brutus,

Let me in tears adore the bounteous gods

Who have restored thee to redress my woes;

And, in my woes, my country!

Bru. No more of this.

Stand not in wonder. Every instant now

Is precious to your cause. Rise! Snatch your arms!

[Kneels.

Hear me, great Jove! and thou, paternal Mars,
And spotless Vesta! To the death, I swear
My burning vengeance shall pursue these Tarquins!
Ne'er shall my limbs know rest till they are swept
From off the earth, which groans beneath their infamy!
This, from the bottom of my soul, I swear!
Valerius, Collatine, Lucretius,-all-

Here, I adjure ye by this fatal dagger,

All stained and reeking with her sacred blood,
Be partners in my oath-revenge her fall!

All. We swear!

Bru. Well have ye said: and, oh, methinks I see
The hovering spirit of the murdered matron
Look down and bow her airy head to bless you!
[ Citizens come crowding together.]

Friends! Romans! Countrymen! (for hither see
The thronging citizens, with curious gaze,
From every side direct their hurrying steps!)
Ask ye what brings us here? Behold this dagger,
Clotted with gore! Behold that frozen corse!
See where the lost Lucretia sleeps in death!
She was the mark and model of the time,
The very shrine and sacristy of virtue!
Fairer than ever was a form created

By youthful fancy when the blood strays wild,
And never resting thought is all on fire!

The worthiest of the worthy! Oh, my countrymen

You all can witness, when that she went forth,
It was a holiday in Rome; old age

Forgot its crutch, labor its task,-all ran;

And mothers, turning to their daughters, cried,

[Rises.

“There, there's Lucretia!" Now, look ye, where she lies! That beauteous flower, that innocent sweet rose,

Torn up by ruthless violence-gone! gone! gone!

All. Sextus shall die!

Bru. But then-the king-his father

1st Rom. What shall be done with him?

2d Rom. Speak, Brutus !

3d Rom. Tell us!

Tell us!

[Shout.

Bru. Say, would you seek instruction? would ye ask
What ye should do ?—

Ask yon deserted street where Tullia drove
O'er her dead father's corse, 'twill cry, Revenge!
Ask yonder senate-house, whose stones are purple
With human blood, and it will cry, Revenge!

Go to the tomb where lies his murdered wife,
And the poor queen, who loved him as her son,
Their unappeaséd ghosts will shriek, Revenge!
The temples of the gods, the all-viewing heavens,
The gods themselves, shall justify the cry,
And swell the general sound, Revenge! Revenge!
All. Revenge! Revenge!

Bru. And we will be revenged, my countrymen!
Brutus shall lead you on; Brutus, a name

Which will, when you're revenged, be dearer to him
Than all the noblest titles earth can boast.

1st Rom. Down with Tarquin!

2d Rom. We'll have no Tarquins!

3d Rom. We will have a Brutus !

[Shout

1st Rom. Let's to the Capitol, and shout for Brutus !
Bru. I your king?

Brutus your king ?-No, fellow-citizens !

If mad ambition in this guilty frame

Had strung one kingly fibre,-yea, but one-
By all the gods, this dagger which I hold
Should rip it out, though it entwined my heart.
Val. Then I am with thee, noble, noble Brutus !
Brutus, the new restored! Brutus, by Sibyl,
By Pythian prophetess foretold, shall lead us!

Bru. Now take the body up. Bear it before us
To Tarquin's palace; there we'll light our torches,
And, in the blazing conflagration, rear

^ A pile for these chaste relics, that shall'send Her soul amongst the stars.

On! Romans, on! The fool shall set you free! [Exeunt the mob shouting.]

:

THE ROMAN FATHER.

From the Tragedy of Brutus, by J. Howard Payne.

Characters:-BRUTUS, COLLATINUS, VALERIUS, CENTURION, SOLDIERS

AND FOLLOWERS.

SCENE I.—A street in Rome.

Enter BRUTUS and COLLATINUS, the Consuls, with LICTORS, VALERIUS, and numerous followers, L.

Bru. You judge me rightly, friends. The purpled robe, The curule chair, the lictor's keen-edged axe, Rejoice not Brutus; 'tis his country's freedom! When once that freedom shall be firmly rooted, Then with redoubled pleasure, will your consul Exchange the splendid miseries of power For the calm comforts of a happy home.

Enter a CENTURION, R.

Cent. Health to Brutus!

Shame and confusion to the foes of Rome!
Bru. Now, without preface, to your business.
Cent. As I kept watch at the Quirinal gate,
Ere break of day an armed company

Burst on the sudden through the barrier guard,
Pushing their course for Ardea. Straight alarmed,
I wheeled my cohort round, and charged 'em home:
Sharp was the conflict for a while, and doubtful,
Till, on the seizure of Tarquinia's person,

A young Patrician

Bru. Ha! Patrician?

Cent. Such

His dress bespoke him, though to me unknown.
Bru. Proceed!-What more?

Cent. The lady being taken,

This youth, the life and leader of the band,
His sword high waving in the act to strike,
Dropped his uplifted weapon, and at once
Yielded himself my prisoner. Oh, Valerius,
What have I said, that thus the consul changes?
Bru. Why do you pause? Go on.

Cent. Their leader seized,

The rest surrendered. Him, a settled gloom

Possesses wholly, nor, as I believe,

Hath a word passed his lips to all my questions

Still obstinately shut.

Bru. Bring him before us.

[Exit Centurion, R.

Val. Oh, my brave friend, horror invades my heart.

Bru. Silence-be calm.

Val. I know thy soul

A compound of all excellence, and pray

The mighty gods to put thee to no trial
Beyond a mortal's bearing.

Bru. No, they will not

Nay, be secure-they cannot. Pr'ythee, friend,
Look out, and if the worst that can befall me

Be verified, turn back, and give some sign

What thou hast seen.-Thou canst excuse this weakness,
Being thyself a father.

Ha! enough!

[Valerius gives the sign.]

I understand thee:-Since it must be so,

Do your great pleasure, gods! Now, now it comes!

TITUS brought in, R., guarded.

Tit. My father!-Give me present death, ye powers! Cent. What have I done!-Art thou the son of Brutus? Tit. No, Brutus scorns to father such a son! Oh, venerable judge, wilt thou not speak? Turn not away; hither direct thine eyes, And look upon this sorrow-stricken form, Then to thine own great heart remit my plea, And doom as nature dictates.

Val. Peace, you'll anger him—

Be silent, and await! Oh, suffering mercy,
Plead in a father's heart, and speak for nature!

[Brutus turns away from his son, waves his hand to the
Centurion to remove him to a farther distance, and
then walks forward and calls Collatinus down to
him, L.

Bru. Come hither, Collatinus. The deep wound You suffered in the loss of your Lucretia,

Demanded more than fortitude to bear;

I saw your agony-I felt your woe—

Col. You more than felt it-you revenged it, too.
Bru. But, ah! my brother consul, your Lucretia

Fell nobly, as a Roman spirit should

She fell, a model of transcendent virtue. ·

Col. My mind misgives. What dost thou aim at, Brutus ?