University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Rome.
An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Brutus.
Br.
(alone)
Oh, that some light would beam from heav'n to teach me
When to burst forth, and how to gain my purpose.
For Rome I would resign all other bonds,
And tear each private tie from my fix'd heart.
—Ha!—Some one comes! It is my son! He seems
Rapt in Elysium, and elate with joy!

[Retires.
Enter Titus.
Tit.
'Tis done! 'tis done! auspicious are the fates,
Tarquinia's word is pledg'd, and all its brightness!

Br.
(coming down)
That exclamation was too lofty boy:
Such raptures ill become the troubled times—
Of such, no more.

Ti.
Oh! at an hour like this
Who could repress the thrill of grateful joy!

Br.
(eagerly)
What dost thou mean?

Ti.
Tarquinia.

Br.
What of her?

Ti.
Her vows are pledg'd,
And heaven's propitious smile will make her mine.

Br.
Thine? What! Thine? Heav'n make Tarquinia thine?
Away! away! Heav'n spurns the race she springs from!

Ti.
How!—Father, wert thou to thyself restor'd,
Thou would'st exult to see thy son thus blest.
Our vows are past They cannot be recall'd.
And soon the nuptial altar will behold her
My own for ever.

Br.
No, Titus, not for ever!
If thou art mine, thou can'st not be Tarquinia's.
Renounce thy father,—or renounce thy love.

Ti.
Nay, loose me, father, this is frenzy all.
E'en hadst thou spoken the dictates of thy soul,
(For sure thou can'st not know what thou requir'st)
I must not, would not, could not, yield Tarquinia.
Nay—let me go—or my rack'd heart will break.

Br.
Leave me. Retire. Thine is no Roman heart.
Ere long the moon will change—the moon—my goddess—
And then thou may'st behold a change in Brutus.

Ti.
'Tis as I thought. Folly resumes its reign.
Look on him, oh ye gods!
Grant him once more the treasure now withheld,
And to his son restore a long lost father?
[Exit Titus.

Br.
(alone)
I was too sudden. I should have delay'd
And watch'd a surer moment for my purpose.
He must be frighted from this dream of love.
What! shall the son of Junius wed a Tarquin!
As yet I've been no father to my son,—
I could be none: but, through the cloud that wraps me,
I've watch'd his mind with all a parent's fondness
And hail'd, with joy, the Junian glory there.
Could I once burst the chains which now enthral him,
My son would prove the pillar of his country
Dear to her freedom as he is to me.
The time may come when heaven will heal our wrongs—
To your hands, mighty powers, I yield myself—
I will not doubt heaven's goodness or Rome's virtue—
Then, hence despair! Still, thou and I are twain!
[Exit Brutus.