 | Brutus Ultor |  |
Scene III.
—The house of Brutus.Enter Publia and Titus.
Publia.
My Titus, you are restless. What is ill?
Why do you glance so often up the street?
Titus.
Tiberius is yonder.
Publia.
[Aside.]
Only see
How, in the sun, the down gleams on his lip!
He's growing such a man, and, by my faith,
His little mother scarce can reach his face.
[Aloud.]
Ah, Titus, you are still my boy despite
The toga on your shoulder, and your mouth
As childish as when first I held you up
To show your father it was made like mine.
I think he smiled, and kissed it for my sake.
You ever were a pet.
Titus.
Unwillingly.
I used to fight your kisses.
Publia.
Yes, with smiles.
My proud Tiberius would frown and mope,
If I were over-loving.
Titus.
Is not that
A crowd, at yon street-corner?
Publia.
What! you tremble.
[Enter Tiberius.]
Titus.
They are our father's lictors.
Tiberius.
At their head
He does not walk . . . Titus!
Titus.
Not so . . .
Publia.
My boys,
You're white as ghosts.
Tiberius.
I'm curious, because
The lictors pause.
53
They come. O mother, mother!
[Enter Lictors.]
Lictor.
Upon a charge of treason you're condemned
To prison. We arrest you.
Publia.
Give the lie!
Oh, tell them it is false.
Titus.
Plead, plead for us.
Our father is so cruel.
Tiberius.
Titus, come.
We stood up for our King.
Publia.
[To Lictors.]
Let go your hold;
Leave them alone, you have no right with them,
They are the consul's sons.
Lictor.
Against his life
They have conspired.
Publia.
He never will believe it. Children, speak!
They falter.
Titus.
Kiss me.
Tiberius.
We are bound. Farewell.
[Exeunt with Lictors.
Publia.
They looked on me, a lingering, strange look,—
Distant, and tremulous. With misery
My pulses throb, for Brutus will return,
With that set mouth that speaks not punishment,
But means the very deed. I run away
When he is chiding them; and they have never
Offended in so deep a way as now.
He will not soon forgive them. I must bear
So many wretched days, their harsh disgrace
Afflicting every moment; not a word
To pass, or harder still, a smile; apart,
Yet near to them; and they so cowed and pale,
I cannot sleep till I have stolen away,
And reached their beds, and heard their tired complaining,
And promised to entreat for speedy pardon.
[Enter Vindex.]
O Brutus . . . Nay!
Slave, you are panting, and you look alarmed,
Your eyes are wet. New misery? O speak!
54
I met them, and they looked so lonely, unowned
in a way. And there's no knowing what master
may do. He told me to say to you he is consul this
month.
Publia.
What can he mean? Vindex, what could he do?
Vindex.
Why, there's exile, and they seemed as if they
were banished, had nothing more to do with the street and
people. It was dreadful. Yes, there's exile . . .
Publia.
To lose my children from my side, to think
They're growing older in another land,
And no one cares to see it:—there's no pang
More bitter. O my sons! It cannot be.
[Weeps.
Vindex.
And then there's . . .
Publia.
What?
Vindex.
O lady, they do not often banish traitors.
'Tis worse what they do. But the young masters are safe.
Their father is their judge, and your brothers are fellow-prisoners.
They banished the old king, and they'll overlook
this business after a few years away from the city.
They'd never kill . . .
Publia.
Vindex! Oh! Kill!
[Faints.
Vindex.
Water! That will bring her back. Why,
she's sprinkled her own cheeks. Poor little mistress! and
I have done all this, and split their hearts. For the
master looks like a tree that's well-nigh sawn from its
roots. Knave that I was!
Publia.
Their blood! you were a knave to speak like that,
When they've a father powerful in the state.
I shudder. Help me up. Their blood, their blood!
You are a wicked, savage brute. Go hence!
Vindex.
—You speak truly. I hear him coming, and I
cannot bear the sight. I'll creep to the corner where the
dust is thrown. I am a skulking wretch.
Publia.
Vindex, are those the only penalties—
Death, banishment? [Seeing that Vindex is gone.]
Why should I need to learn?
My hapless children I will save from both;
A mother's knees can ask what he will grant
Who gave her home and offspring. He is here.
55
My husband, Brutus!
Brutus.
Ah, my Publia,
I scarce can speak thy pure, unspotted name,
And call thy children traitors. What, you kneel?
Publia.
For them, and for my brothers. [Aside.]
Oh, his lips!
Brutus.
Rise, wife, this is unworthy. Would you bribe
My justice with my love? Stand up by me,
Let us be wedded with a stronger bond
Than child or home, the link of duty done
Though every joy should fail.
Publia.
I'll bear all grief,
Though it should turn my hair to withered grey,
If you will save my children.
Brutus.
Sit you down,
And let me take your hand. Think of Lucrece,
Married and happy, younger by some years
Than you, a bride of some few, fleeting months,
Who, forced to sin, was mighty for the good,
And dared to judge herself, condemn her life
To bleed for law transgressed. Oh, think of it!
She judged her own life, all that beat in it,
The honoured years of motherhood, the sweet
Cares of the loving future. O my wife,
She was the judge, and that deep agony
Was given to no other. You are called
Simply to acquiesce.
Publia.
You make me mad.
Loose me! I know not anything but this:—
I am their mother, and I will not go,
Till you have promised that the lives are safe
You kindled in my womb. Vow!
Brutus.
Wife, be still.
Publia.
You'll banish them?
Brutus.
Yes.
Publia.
And not kill?
Brutus.
Send them away, away . . .
Publia.
For many years?
Brutus.
I know not, but I hope
56
Publia.
Oh, promise fast,
What you have said, that you will banish them.
Brutus.
No binding words. Love, fortify yourself,
Be humble in your misery.
Publia.
I fear.
O Brutus, be not false. I am your wife,
Who truly bore them, who has ever been
Faithful to you. If they should come to harm,
You would have seemed to give them me to take
Your gift away, to have feigned the father's part,
Begetting to destroy, and mocked my breast
With planting to uproot; your spousal words
Would be a liar's, and your acted love
Deep-laid hypocrisy and long deceit.
Brutus.
Say nothing more. I'll wander out of doors,
With the black night and stars. Go you to rest,
And think of me more truly.
Publia.
But the boys!
Twice have my pale, rejoicing hands raised up
The new-born child to fill your eyes. O Brutus,
Then you were ever tender. Why, the nurse,
The crabbed-speaking midwife, used to say
You were a very woman in the room.
Brutus.
Then is no more. Go in! Lift not your hands!
Publia.
I will not leave you. Brutus, once you knelt,
I gave you all, a virgin of sixteen;
And you with fifty years to make you kind,
Turn from my knees.
Brutus.
Love, I have said. The past
Hath lost its truth. Shall I arraign that too?
What! judge, condemn, our early, wedded years,
Their childhood, our first hopes! Let such retreat
Beyond the borders of our memory,
Where there is no recall.
Publia.
O cruel man,
I'll go and sob against your pillow, Brutus,
That you may think of nights, long years ago,
When you have loved me.
Brutus.
Not as now I love,
57
In this great hour of peril. O my wife,
Draw to me, be my help-mate!
Publia.
Save my sons!
Brutus.
Is that the end? Have you learnt nothing else?
Publia, a moment: think of the great bond
That knit our lives; henceforth our married state
Is disannulled, and in my wandering thoughts
I shall walk lonely; yet I cannot weep.
My heart's a damp, cold cavern—tears and rock;
But the firm stone hath swallowed up the drops
That waste its substance: there is no remorse.
[Exit. Publia sinks on the ground by the hearth.
| Brutus Ultor | |