Brutus. O Jove, this day Balance our cause, and let the innocent blood Of rape-stained Lucrece crown with death and horror The heads of all the Tarquins! See, this day In her cause do we consecrate our lives, And in defence of justice now march on. I hear their martial music: be our shock As terrible as are the meeting clouds That break in thunder! yet our hopes are fair, And this rough charge shall all our loss repair. [_Exeunt. Alarum, battle within_. SCENE VI.--_Outside Rome_. _Enter_ Porsenna _and_ Aruns. Porsenna. Yet grow our lofty plumes unflagged with blood, And yet sweet pleasure wantons in the air. How goes the battle, Aruns? Aruns. ’Tis even balanced. I interchanged with Brutus, hand to hand, A dangerous encounter; both are wounded, And, had not the rude press divided us, One had dropped down to earth. Porsenna. ’Twas bravely fought. I saw the king your father free his person From thousand Romans that begirt his state, Where flying arrows thick as atoms sung About his ears. Aruns. I hope a glorious day. Come, Tuscan king, let’s on them. [_Alarum_. _Enter_ Horatius _and_ Valerius. Horatius. Aruns, stay! That sword, that late did drink the consul’s blood, Must with his keen fang tire upon[5.68] my flesh, Or this on thine. Aruns. It spared the consul’s life To end thy days in a more glorious strife. Valerius. I stand against thee, Tuscan! Porsenna. I for thee! Horatius. Where’er I find a Tarquin, he’s for me. [_Alarum. They fight;_ Aruns _is slain_, Porsenna _driven off_. _Alarum. Enter_ Tarquin _with an arrow in his breast_, Tullia _with him, pursued by_ Collatine, Lucretius, Scevola. Tarquin. Fair Tullia, leave me; save thy life by flight, Since mine is desperate; behold, I am wounded Even to the death. There stays within my tent A wingèd jennet, mount his back and fly; Live to revenge my death, since I must die. Tullia. Had I the heart to tread upon the bulk[5.69] Of my dead father, and to see him slaughtered, Only for love of Tarquin and a crown, And shall I fear death more than loss of both? No, this is Tullia’s fame,--rather than fly From Tarquin, ’mongst a thousand swords she’ll die. Collatine, Lucretius, and Scevola. Hew them to pieces both. Tarquin. My Tullia save, And o’er my caitiff head those meteors wave! Collatine. Let Tullia yield then. Tullia. Yield me, cuckold! no; Mercy I scorn; let me the danger know. Scevola. Upon them, then! Valerius. Let’s bring them to their fate, And let them perish in the people’s hate. Tullia. Fear not, I’ll back thee, husband. Tarquin. But for thee, Sweet were the hand that this charged soul could free! Life I despise. Let noble Sextus stand To avenge our death. Even till these vitals end, Scorning my own, thy life will I defend.