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[Alarum :--fight with single swords, and being deadly
wounded and panting for breath, making a stroke at each other with their gauntlets, they
fall. Hor. Both slain! Oh, noble Brutus, this thy fame To after ages shall survive; thy body Shall have a fair and gorgeous sepulchre : For whom the matrons shall in funeral black Mourn twelve sad moons; thou that first govern’d Rome, And sway'd the people by a consul's name. These bodies of the Tarquins we'll commit Unto the funcral pile : you, Collatine, Shall succeed Brutus in the consul's place, Whom with this laurel wreath we here create.
[crowns him with laurel. Such is the people's voice, accept it then.
Col. We do, and may our pow'r so just appear, Rome
have peace, both with our love and fear. But soft! what march is this?
Por. The Tuscan king seeing the Tarquins slain,
Val. After so much effusion and large waste
'Twore good to entertain Porsenna's league.
Col. Porsenna we embrace, whose royal presence
March on to Rome! Jove be our guard and guide!
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