The Italian in her high chapine,[5.53] Scotch lass, and lovely frau too, The Spanish donna, French madame, He will not fear to go to; Nothing so full of hazard dread, Nought lives above the centre, No fashion, health, no wine, nor wench, On which he dare not venture. Horatius. Good Valerius, this has brought us even to the skirts of the camp. Enter, lords. [_Exeunt_. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I.--_A Room in the House of_ Collatine. _Enter_ Sextus, Lucrece _and_ Attendants. Lucrece. This ring, my lord, hath oped the gates to you; For, though I know you for a royal prince, My sovereign’s son, and friend to Collatine, Without that key you had not entered here.-- More lights, and see a banquet straight provided. My love to my dear husband shall appear In the kind welcome that I give his friend. Sextus. [_Aside_.] Not love-sick, but love-lunatic, love-mad: I am all fire, impatience, and my blood Boils in my heart, with loose and sensual thoughts. [_Enter_ Servants, _who set out a banquet_. Lucrece. A chair for the prince, May’t please your highness sit? Sextus. Madam, with you. Lucrece. It will become the wife of Collatine To wait upon your trencher. Sextus. You shall sit: Behind us at the camp we left our state; We are but your guest--indeed, you shall not wait. [_Aside_.] Her modesty hath such strong power o’er me, And such a reverence hath fate given her brow, That it appears a kind of blasphemy To have any wanton word harsh in her ears. I cannot woo, and yet I love ’bove measure; ’Tis force, not suit, must purchase this rich treasure. Lucrece. Your highness cannot taste such homely cates? Sextus. Indeed, I cannot feed. [_Aside_.] But on thy face: Thou art the banquet that my thoughts embrace. Lucrece. Knew you, my lord, what free and zealous welcome We tender you, your highness would presume Upon your entertainment. Oft, and many times, I have heard my husband speak of Sextus’ valour, Extol your worth, praise your perfection, Ay, dote upon your valour, and your friendship Prize next his Lucrece. Sextus. [_Aside_.] O impious lust, In all things base, respectless, and unjust! Thy virtue, grace, and fame I must enjoy, Though in the purchase I all Rome destroy.-- Madam, if I be welcome as your virtue Bids me presume I am, carouse to me A health unto your husband. Lucrece. A woman’s draught, my lord, to Collatine! Sextus. Nay, you must drink off all. Lucrece. Your grace must pardon The tender weakness of a woman’s brain. Sextus. It is to Collatine.