_Enter_ Tarquin, Tullia, Sextus, Aruns, Lucretius, Valerius, Poplicola, _and_ Senators _before them_. Tullia. Withdraw; we must have private conference With our dear husband. [_Exeunt all except_ Tarquin _and_ Tullia. Tarquin. What wouldst thou, wife? Tullia. Be what I am not; make thee greater far Than thou canst aim to be. Tarquin. Why, I am Tarquin. Tullia. And I am Tullia--what of that? What diapason’s more in Tarquin’s name Than in a subject’s? or what’s Tullia More in the sound than to become the name Of a poor maid or waiting gentlewoman? I am a princess both by birth and thoughts, Yet all’s but Tullia. There’s no resonance In a bare style; my title bears no breadth, Nor hath it any state. O me, I’m sick! Tarquin. Sick, lady! Tullia. Sick at heart. Tarquin. Why, my sweet Tullia? Tullia. To be a queen I long, long, and am sick; With ardency my hot appetite’s a-fire, Till my swollen fervour be deliverèd Of that great title queen. My heart’s all royal, Not to be circumscribed in servile bounds. While there’s a king that rules the peers of Rome, Tarquin makes legs,[5.01] and Tullia curtsies low, Bows at each nod, and must not near the state Without obeisance. Oh! I hate this awe; My proud heart cannot brook it. Tarquin. Hear me, wife. Tullia. I am no wife of Tarquin’s if not king: Oh, had Jove made me man, I would have mounted Above the base tribunals of the earth, Up to the clouds, for pompous sovereignty. Thou art a man: oh, bear my royal mind, Mount heaven, and see if Tullia lag behind. There is no earth in me, I am all fire; Were Tarquin so, then should we both aspire. Tarquin. O Tullia, though my body taste of dulness, My soul is winged to soar as high as thine; But note what flags our wings,--forty-five years The king thy father hath protected Rome. Tullia. That makes for us: the people covet change; Even the best things in time grow tedious. Tarquin. ’Twould seem unnatural in thee, my Tullia, The reverend king thy father to depose. Tullia. A kingdom’s quest makes sons and fathers foes. Tarquin. And but by Servius’ fall we cannot climb; The balm[5.02] that must anoint us is his blood. Tullia. Let’s lave our brows then in that crimson flood; We must be bold and dreadless: who aspires, Mounts by the lives of fathers, sons, and sires. Tarquin. And so must I, since, for a kingdom’s love, Thou canst despise a father for a crown. Tarquin shall mount, Servius be tumbled down, For he usurps my state, and first deposed My father in my swathèd infancy, For which he shall be countant:[5.03] to this end I have sounded all the peers and senators, And, though unknown to thee, my Tullia, They all embrace my faction; and so they Love change of state, a new king to obey. Tullia. Now is my Tarquin worthy Tullia’s grace, Since in my arms I thus a king embrace.