University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

The interior of the temple of Mars. Brutus seated in the Consular chair. Titus is brought in by the Lictors with their axes turn'd edge-ways towards him: At a signal from Brutus they withdraw. Titus approaches his father.
L. Jun.
Prisoner, approach, we now forego the names
Of son and father, sad exchange! to meet
As criminal and judge. Nay, do not kneel!
Man doth not owe to man such low submission.

Tit.
But guilt to virtue doth; repentance owes
Prostration to the Gods, and thou, oh Brutus,
Art like a God on earth. Not to Rome's Consul,
But Rome's deliverer, bend I the knee.

L. Jun.
Stand up and hear me. 'Tis a dread commission
I now must open—Traitors, who conspire
Against mature societies, may urge
Their acts as bold and daring; and, tho' villains,
Yet are they manly villains—But to stab
The cradled innocent as thou hast done,
To strike thy country in the mother-pangs
Of struggling child-birth, and direct thy dagger
To freedom's infant throat, is deed so black,
That my foil'd tongue refuses it a name.

Tit.
Let me supply it—Death.

L. Jun.
Oh Gods, oh Gods!

Tit.
Nay, do not shrink; I am not yet so far
Apostate from my great original,
As to survive disgrace.

L. Jun.
Thou hast pronounc'd
The fatal word that Justice must decree—
Hard word, and painful for a father's tongue—
Thou art my son.

Tit.
No, I have lost the name.
I was thy son, and had my father deem'd me
Worthy to share his thoughts, had I but known
The secret of his heart, I had devoted
My soul to honour and escap'd this ruin.

L. Jun.
Ah, Titus, 'twas because I mark'd your weakness;
You were a courtly, young, ambitious lover,
The friend of Sextus, and I fear'd to trust you.

Tit.
Wisely you acted for the general good:
Had I deceiv'd you Rome had lost a father,
Now losing me she has little to lament.

L. Jun.
Justice demands that I should wield her sword
With an impartial hand: whom can I strike,
If I should spare my son? But when I make
This sacrifice to justice, it is not
That Brutus feels less than a father feels,
But that he does all that a Roman should.
And now 'tis past—Go—

Tit.
Whither?

L. Jun.
Must I add
To public execution?

Tit.
Say not that:
Shall thy son suffer like a common felon?

L. Jun.
How else do traitors suffer?

Tit.
Shameful fate!
My head struck off, and my disjointed limbs—

L. Jun.
Stop!—What hast thou to urge? If thou hast aught,
Rigour admits that I should hear the plea.
Speak!

Tit.
I had once a hope—

L. Jun.
What was thy hope?

Tit.
That I might fall as noble Romans fall,
By my own sword.

L. Jun.
Let me reflect!—Away!
It is the trick and sophistry of mercy;
It mocks at justice and defrauds the law.

Tit.
Nor law nor justice should have more than life,
And with the body kill the spirit too.
I have a weapon here, a bosom friend,
That could have marshall'd me a secret road,
Without a father's privilege, to death;
But I resolv'd the wond'ring world should see
The unshaken firmness of a patriot's soul:
And, careful of thy fame, reserv'd the blow,
Till at thy feet I might receive my doom,
And, dying, float them with my filial blood.

L. Jun.
Stop thy rash hand! Give me some pause for thought!
Put back thy weapon—Oh! that I could find
Some course to satisfy my country's honour,
And save thy forfeit life!—but 'twill not be.
Yet I will grant thy pray'r—A shameful death
Thou shalt not suffer. In the public square
Before the people—Oh support me, Gods!—
Give me a voice to speak!—Thou must ascend
The scaffold there prepar'd; then in the view
Of Rome's appeased citizens, then, Titus—
Strike at thy heart.

Tit.
Upon my knees I thank thee!
Thus let me press thy venerable hand,
And print my life's last gratitude upon it!

L. Jun.
Arise, arise! You come too near my heart.

Tit.
What signal shall there be when I may strike?

L. Jun.
When I come forth, and from the temple porch
Hold up my hand, then—need I add the rest?
Remember!

Tit.
Righteously.

L. Jun.
Farewell for ever!
Lictors, attend! conduct your prisoner forth;
And, whilst you march with slow and solemn step,
Let the funereal minstrels, as they are wont,
Sound their sad prelude to the mournful act.

[Titus is carried out by the Lictors; a dead march, which gradually dies away as it becomes more distant. Brutus remains seated in a melancholy posture on his tribunal.
L. Jun.
[rising.]
How heavily these melancholy sounds
Ring out the knell of death; and now they cease—
Thy pilgrimage, poor youth, is at an end:
A few sad steps have brought thee to the brink
Of that tremendous precipice, whose depth
No thought of man can fathom. Now thou stand'st
Upon thy grave with sorrow-smitten eye,
And dagger underneath thy mantle grasp'd,
Watching my signal—Now vindictive justice
Bids me go forth—This silence is my summons.
Hard, hard condition mine! Limbs, bear me up
Against this shock of nature, to support
The dreadful office, which the Gods impose
On me their trembling minister, whose heart
They should have cas'd in marble; and made dead
To human feelings, ere they bade me meet
A spectacle, that harrows up the soul
With terror and dismay—There lies the road
That I must take—One effort, and 'tis past.
[Exit.
[Whilst Brutus is off the Stage, a deep and distant groan is heard, and he re-enters the temple in great agitation.
Brutus re-enters.
Oh agonizing sight!—The deed is done:
Justice is satisfied; my son expires.

Valerius to Brutus.
Val.
My friend, where art thou? Let my arms enfold
And comfort thy brave heart; let me partake
Thy manly sorrows: Brutus is not childless;
Each grateful Roman henceforth is thy son.

L. Jun.
Come, gallant friend, it were not fit you knew
What passes here; for you and I must act
Like men in whom the common herd can spy
No gust nor flaw of passion, to unstring
The nerves that now should brace them to the pitch:
This is no time for wailing and lamenting;
Tarquin will march for Rome—for, do him right,
The man is no mean soldier.

Val.
We must shape
Our measures to like promptitude with his:
Great enterprizes only are achiev'd
By great and noble darings. We must face
The peril of the attempt, as men resolv'd
To conquer or to die.

L. Jun.
Ah my brave friend,
Were life as stale and wearisome to all
As 'tis to Brutus, we should entertain
War as a mistress; where the battle burns
There we should throng, there we should choak their ranks
With piles of slain and torrents of our blood,
And welcome victory in the arms of death.

Collatinus the Consul, with Senators and others, who support Titus.
Col.
Consul, behold thy son! a few short moments
Are left of life, and 'tis his last request,
That at thy feet he may have leave to die.

L. Jun.
And have I no friend left to strike a sword
For very charity into this heart?
Why do you heap these agonies upon me,
And call me Consul? Who will watch for Rome,
When you have kill'd your centinel?—Approach,
Thou bleeding ruin, thou last mangled wreck
Of all my joys, that were embark'd with thee;
And perish'd in the surge, that was thy grave.
Can'st thou speak to me?

Tit.
Venerable judge,
Father of Rome and freedom, may this blood,
By thy commandment spilt, wash out my crime.
And shall this heart, before its pulses stop,
Be blest with thy forgiveness?

L. Jun.
All the peace
That my forgiveness can bestow I grant;
The Gods will give the rest: in this sad heart
No record will remain of thy offence;
Thy punishment hath cancell'd that, and now
Nought but thy early virtues, the fair promise
Of my fond hopes, all blasted in the bud,
Shall dwell in my remembrance—Hah! he dies!
Support him in your arms—The quivering lids
Close on his sightless eyes: convulsion tears
His laboring heart; it rises to his throat—
He gasps, he writhes in anguish—he expires!

[Titus falls into the arms of the people.
Val.
Bear him away! quench not the light of Rome,
That yet survives in Brutus. Valiant Consul,
Great above men in sorrows as in soul,
Rouse from the meditation on this scene,
And cheer thy drooping friends.

L. Jun.
Approach, my friends,
Ye that are fathers, and be taught by me
To reverence justice. Mark if I bestow
One tear upon the dead. I'll not embalm
His body with the brine which hirelings shed,
To trick their funerals forth with purchas'd woe:
If I make salt this earth, 'twill be with blood,
The blood of Tarquins, hot libidinous blood,
Not with weak women's tears; let grief stand off,
Till nobler guests are serv'd.

Centurion enters.
Cent.
Health to the Consul!
The king draws down his powers upon your town.
As with Tarquinia I was on my way,
Our party by a cohort in the van
Of the main army was constrain'd to halt,
And question'd of our purpose: This explain'd,
Sextus Tarquinius, arm'd from heel to head,
Rode forth and bade me render up to him
The lady under guard; I did—When he,
Their greeting past, dismiss'd me with these words—
This courtesy, said he, which I accept
From your revolting masters as a pledge
Of their return to duty, hath so far
Unedg'd my sword, that I will come to Rome
Prepar'd to treat of peace and composition,
And, ere I strike, to hear—

L. Jun.
Arm, warriors, arm!
Put not your faith in Tarquins; if they treat,
'Tis only when they tremble. Friends, go forth,
Marshal our city's force without the walls,
And let our trumpets answer to their tongues,
When they would parley. Sound out an alarm!

[Trumpets. Brutus, Collatinus, &c. exeunt.
Manent Valerius and Centurion.
Cent.
Noble Valerius, may I crave your ear
To a few words apart?

Val.
Speak and be brief.

Cent.
If Brutus may be wrought to interchange
A hostage with the king, I have the word
Of Tarquin's daughter for a peaceful truce,
With pardon and redress of all that's past.

Val.
What hostage would the king demand of Brutus?

Cent.
Titus his son, whom in a luckless hour
I made my prisoner—Hah! you shake your head:
Is there no hope he will be mov'd to staunch
The blood, that else in torrents must be spilt?

Val.
Titus is dead.

Cent.
Then, Discord, to thy work!
The sword is out—We conquer or we die.

[Exeunt.
Scene without the walls of Rome. Trumpet sounds a parley. Brutus, follow'd by Valerius and other armed Romans.
L. Jun.
Look out, and say what company is that
Whose trumpet sounds a parley—By the Gods,
I will not trust these Tarquins with the hearing.
No other conference shall they hold with Brutus
Than shield to shield and sword oppos'd to sword,
Amid the din of battle. Good Valerius,
Advance and stop these parleyers—

Tarquinia with Vitellius and others.
Tar.
Where is Brutus;
Where is the Consul?—Oh, redeem the time,
Save your devoted town, your children, wives,
Your altars from destruction! In my hand
I hold the sacred instrument of peace,
Stampt with the royal signet to assure
The credit of the deed. If you have wrongs,
Here's that will heal your wrongs; if doubts or fears,
Here's evidence to make suspicion blush.
Scorn not this embassy because I bear it,
Who than a woman fitter to assuage
The angry feuds of men, and into love
Convert your hatred?

L. Jun.
Messenger more fair
Your father could not send, I do admit;
But holding no allegiance to the sender,
And resolute to cast our tyrant off,
We pray you to avoid so rude a brawl,
As needs will follow, when our noisy trumpets
Charge to the onset and bray out for battle.

Tar.
If you reject us in the fond belief
That fear provokes this embassy, look out
And scan your danger well, ere you defy it.
Will you not hear me, Brutus? In one word
The truce is seal'd. Give up your son a hostage,
And I, the daughter of a king, commit
My life into your keeping.

L. Jun.
That we gave you
When both were living—Titus is no more.

[Exeunt L. Jun. Val. &c.
Tar.
Monster of cruelty! Unnatural father!
Thou murderer, what hast thou to do with peace,
Hated by Gods and men? Why do I live?
Come to my heart, deliverer!

[Offers to kill herself.
Vit.
Stop thy hand!
Hence, hateful weapon! Why this desperate act?
Will it revive the dead? Will Brutus feel
The dagger that destroys thee? Will it seat
Thy father on his throne? 'Twill tear his heart
With agonies, and quench the glorious hope
Of Victory, now hovering on the wing
'Twixt eitheir host. Behold how many heroes
Assemble to revenge the death you mourn—
And see! a warrior comes, whose glittering form
Brings light and life to chase despair away.

Sextus Tarquinius and Soldiers.
Sex.
How now, my sister! why thus plung'd in grief?
Brave natures face misfortune, cowards fly it.
Not in the round of habitable earth
Was there a man I lov'd like Titus Junius.
I know the fatal story—He is slain;
Our Mother too, after strange sort is dead;
I hate a preface to a tale of horror—
So now thou hast it all.

Tar.
Immortal Powers,
Who on your suffering creature cast this load
Of misery, to your all-commanding will
Submissive I bow down my vassal neck,
Nor murmur at your providence—Behold
A wretch, on whom the brightest hopes had dawn'd,
Now whelm'd in dark despair; a heart, in which
Affection glow'd, and every tender string
Thrill'd with the touch of sympathy, now torn
And rent with agony; a form, alas!
Which flattery said you moulded with some care,
Now scorn'd and cast without remorse away,
Like sherds that shiver in the potter's hand:
If still it be your pleasure to take hence
All that makes life a blessing, and yet bid
Your ling'ring victim live, I will obey,
Till, soften'd by my patience, you relent,
And mercifully end my woes in death.

Sex.
Haste thee, Vitellius, lead her to the fane
Of Juno Sospita; there she may rest
In safety till this storm of grief subsides.
[Exit Vitellius with Tarquinia.
What means the king that he delays his march?
Go one of you, and from you rising ground
Look out, and make report what you espy.
[Exit Soldier.
Hah! who art thou?—

Brutus, Valerius, and other Romans.
L. Jun.
Brutus, the foe of tyrants.
Yield, ravisher! behold thou art inclos'd.
Let these disarm and pass: their lives we scorn;
Thou, violator of the marriage bed,
Thou must atone to justice.

Sex.
Sound to arms!
Call up the king to action—

L. Jun.
Call the king?
Where is your vigilance? Your king is fled;
Your soldiers are dispers'd; they pile their arms,
And shout for liberty.

The Soldier returns.
Sol.
Oh fatal truth!
All, all is flight, confusion, and revolt.

Sex.
Dastard, 'tis false: my Romans cannot fly—
Hear me, thou Brutus! life to life I dare thee
In equal combat, branding thee a traitor,
The assassin of a son, whom, oh dire murderer—
Thou didst deserve as much as thou dost heaven.

L. Jun.
Tho' thy base deed, defiler, well might warrant
Contemptuous seizure, yet this bold encounter
Shall to no other chastisement expose thee
Save as this arm shall punish—I accept
Thy challenge, ravisher, and wield a sword
Edg'd with Lucretia's wrongs.

Val.
What is't you do?
Consul, remember Rome.

L. Jun.
Remember Rome!
It is for Rome I strike; it is your cause,
Ye Gods, and to your justice I commit it.
Valerius, by our friendship I conjure thee,
Come not betwixt us—Romans, I command you,
Stand all aloof; if I am here to fall,
Give honourable passage and protection
To this bold son of Tarquin—conquering me,
He will deserve to live.

Sex.
'Tis fairly said!
Thus to the manes of thy murder'd son
I make libation of thy blood—
[They fight and Brutus is wounded.
Break off!
Thou'rt wounded—breathe awhile.

L. Jun.
Gods, can there be
Such noble bearing in a cause so vile?

Val.
Brutus, you bleed apace.

Sex.
Go, stop your sluices,
And come afresh. I scorn a fainting foe.

L. Jun.
Foil'd by a stripling! I disdain the thought.

[They fight and Sextus falls.
Val.
Oh, nobly fought! He falls, he faints, he dies—
Freedom and Rome survive.

[Vitellius runs in and receives Sextus in his arms as he is falling.
Vit.
Peace, nor insult
The brave, tho' vanquish'd—See, the hero dies!
The mightiest of the race of Tarquin dies.

[Sextus dies.
Val.
Short are the conqueror's triumphs—Help to save him;
Friends, Romans, countrymen, your Consul falls,
The pillar of your nation is o'erthrown.

[Brutus sinks to the ground.
L. Jun.
Mourn not for me! The interposing Gods
Have snatch'd a sorrow-wounded soul to rest.
I've liv'd enough for fame, for Rome and freedom;
And, when I'm dead, pluck forth this heart, my friends:
You'll find in mournful colours pictur'd there
The dear-lov'd image of a dying son—
Farewell to all!—Lucretia is reveng'd—
Valerius, reach thy hand—my friend—'tis past!

Dies.