Then on his travels, 'scaped the tyrant's sword,
But lost his reason at their fearful fall.

Luc. Ay, the same Lucius, who now dwells with Tar quin,

The jest, the fool, the langhing-stock o' th' court,

Whom the young princes always carry with 'em
To be the butt of their unfeeling mirth.

Val. Hold! I hear steps. Great things may yet be done,

If we are men, and faithful to our country. [Exeunt, L.

SCENE II.-The Camp before Ardea.

Enter CLAUDIUS and ARUNS, laughing, L. S. E.

Aruns. There is no doctor for the spleen like Lucius. What precious scenes of folly did he act

When, lately, through the glorious scenes of Greece,
He went with us to Delphi! But, behold,

Where, full of business, his wise worship comes.

Enter LUCIUS JUNIUS, L.

Claud. Whither so fast, good Junius, tell us whither ? Luc. To Rome, to Rome—the queen demands my pre

sence.

The state needs aid, and I am called to court. [They laugh.
Am I a fool? If so, you cannot say

I'm the first fool graced by a monarch's favour.
Aruns. Why, Junius, travel has improved thy wit:
Thou speakest shrewdly.

Luc. Do I so, my lord?

I'm always glad when you and I agree;

You have just such a wit as I should choose.

Would I could purchase such! though it might split
My head, as confined air does-water bubbles!

Claud. How say you? Purchase? Prithee, what would'st give?

Luc. What would I give ?-ten acres of my land.
Aruns. Thy land! Where lies it?

Luc. Ask the king, my cousin :

He knows full well. I thank him, he's my steward,

And takes the trouble off my hands.

Claud. Who told thee so?

Luc. The king himself. Now twenty years are past,

r more,—since he sent for me from my farm.
Kinsman,' said he, with a kind, gracious smile,
For the black crime of treason which was charged
Against thy father and thy elder brother,

Their lives have paid: for thee, as I love mercy,
Live and be happy: simple is thy mind'-

Aruns. True, kinsman, true-i'faith, 'tis wondrous simple.

Luc. And that simplicity will be a pledge

That thou wilt never plot against thy sovereign.'

Claud. Indeed, for that I'll be your bondsman, Junius Luc. Live in my house, companion of my children. 'As for thy land, to ease thee of all care,

'I'll take it for thy use; all that I ask

Of thee, is gratitude.'

Aruns. And art thou not

Grateful for goodness so unmerited?

Luc. Am I not? Never, by the holy gods,
Will I forget it! "Tis my constant pray'r
To Heaven, that I may one day have the pow'r
To the debt I owe him. But stay-stay-

pay

I brought a message to you from the king.

Aruns. Thank the gods, then, for thy good memory. fool!

Luc. The King, your father, sends for you to council, Where he debates how best to conquer Ardea. Shall I before, and tell him ye are coming?

Claud. Ay, or behind, or with us, or stay here— As thy wits prompt-as suits thy lofty pleasure.

[Exeunt Aruns and Claudius, laughing, R. Luc. [Alone.] Yet, 'tis not that which ruffles me-the gibes

And scornful mockeries of ill-governed youth-
Or flouts of dastard sycophants and jesters-
Reptiles, who lay their bellies on the dust
Before the frown of majesty !-All this
I but expect, nor grudge to bear; the face
I carry, courts it! Son of Marcus Junius!
When will the tedious gods permit thy soul
To walk abroad in her own majesty,

And throw this vizor of thy madness from thee,
To avenge my father's and my brother's murder?

(And sweet, I must confess, would be the draught!)
Had this been all, a thousand opportunities
I've had to strike the blow—and my own life

I had not valued as a rush.-But still

There's something nobler to be done!-My soul,
Enjoy the strong conception! Oh! 'tis glorious
To free a groaning country-

To see Revenge

Spring like a lion from the den, and tear

These hunters of mankind!

Grant but the time,

Grant but the moment, gods! If I am wanting,

May I drag out this idiot-feigned life

To late old age, and may posterity

Ne'er hear of Junius but as Tarquin's fool!

[Exit, L.

SCENE III.-Rome.-A State Apartment in the Palace of Tullia.

Enter TULLIA, preceded by GUARDS, BANNER BEARERS, LADIES, and followed by VALERIUS. She appears perturbed, and speaks apart.

Tul. [Apart.] Why should the steady mind to shadows yield?

And yet this vision shakes my frame with horror!
I thought his spirit thundered in my ear,

'Remember when, with wild ambition's frenzy,
'And all Rome's empire in your view, you drove
'Your chariot-wheels o'er your dead father's body,
Up to the shouting Forum!' Why, my soul,
Dost thou not shun the remembrance of that hour?
'Twas but the cause-the cause-For this base clay,
How differs it from the dull earth we tread on,
When the life's gone?-But, next, the Sibyl came,
Whose mystic book at such a price we bought,
And cried, The race of Tarquin shall be kings
Till a fool drive them hence, and set Rome free!'
Strange prophecy !-What fool ?-It cannot be
That poor dolt, the companion of my sons!—
Hark thee, Valerius-Know'st thou that same fool
Now in the camp?

Val. I know him well.-A man

Who, when he had a name, was Lucius Junius:--

braver citizen Rome never boasted,

and wise and learned withal; now changed, alas! spectacle which humbles me to look on!

Tul. But is he harmless in his moody humours?

Val. Tame as my horse, which, though devoid of rea

son,

hall turn, shall stop, and, at my angry bidding,

hall kneel till I am thronéd on his back!

And this shall Junius: the like instinct stirs unius and him,—no more.

Tul. [Apart.] Hence, idle fears!

-Yet, when he went to Delphi, 'tis given out
The oracle addressed him with strange portents,
And each night since, my dreams have been disturbed
By a wild form, too much resembling his,

Leading our soldiers forth with sword and flame,
Revolters from the camp, to storm the palace.
But he is sent from thence, and shall be watched.

Enter HORATIUS, L.

Hor. Your orders are obeyed: Lucius awaits.
Tul. Set him before us.

[To Valerius.] Tell me, will he answer

If we do question him?

Val. I think he will:

[Exit Horatius

Yet sometimes, when the moody fit doth take him,
He will not speak for days; yea, rather starve
Than utter nature's cravings; then, anon

He'll prattle shrewdly, with such witty folly
As almost betters reason.

HORATIUS returns with LUCIUS JUNIUS.

Tul. Hark thee, fellow,

How art thou called?

Luc. A fool.

Tul. Fool, for thy nature :

Thou answerest well, but I demand thy name.

Luc. Nothing but fool.

Tul. His faculties are brutish:

BRUTUS shall be thy name.

Bru. Thanks to your grace!

Hor. Dost like thy new name, gentle brute?

Bru. So well,

Who will may take the fool. I care not who-
Your highness, an' it like you.

Hor. I the fool!

Sirrah, good words, or I will have thee beaten.

Bru. A fool thou wilt not beat—a brute thou darʼst not, For the dull ass will kick against his striker,

If struck too harshly.

Tul. Let me hear no more;

There's mischief in his folly. Send him hence.

[Brutus going, I, But stay-I'll search him farther.-Hark thee, Brutus: Thou wast at Delphi, with our sons the princes

Tell me what questions put they to Apollo?

Bru. Your sons did ask who should be chief in Rome. Tul. Ha! What replied the oracle to that?

Bru. With pains and strugglings, the prophetic dame This destiny reported from her god

'Great and most glorious shall that Roman be,

'Who first shall greet his mother with a kiss.'

Tul. That is fulfilled by Sextus.

Hor. Ay, he straight

Hastened from thence, and kissed the queen his mother. Bru. Woe for me, I have no mother!

Bru. Yea, madam; for just then my foot did slip In the fresh blood of a new-slaughtered victim,

And, falling, I did kiss my mother-earth.

Tul. Oh, that the earth had swallowed thee outright, Till thou hadst kissed the centre! I perceive,

The gods are leagued with folly to destroy us.

My very blood chills at my heart.-Away!

[Exit Tullia, Guards and Ladies, rapidly, R. and L. Hor. Hark thee, thou Brutus :-I in part suspect Thou ap'st this folly; if I find thee trifling Or juggling with the Pythia for predictions, By all the gods, I'll have thee flayed, thy skin Striped into thongs, to strangle thee withal. Dissembling varlet !

[Crosses, L., and strikes Brutus, who seizes him. Val. Shame, my lord! forbear!

Threat'ning a fool, you do but wrong yourself.