 | Junius Brutus |  |
SCENE IV.
Titus, Messala.TITUS.
O! my Messala, on thy friendly Bosom
Let me unload my secret Cares and Anguish,
The Grief that overwhelms my sinking Soul!
MESSALA.
The Senators, with overbearing Power,
Delight to trample on distinguish'd Merit.
TITUS.
Love and the Senate both conspire my Ruin!
The Senate scornfully rejects my Suit,
Refusing me the Honour of a Rank,
Won by my Arms, and purchas'd by my Blood.
Before my Mind is cool from this Disgrace,
Lucia, my Soul's Delight, is ravish'd from me.
Ravish'd from me! alas! I've no Pretensions!
And yet my Heart is rack'd with Jealousy.—
Nay more, I've openly avow'd my Love;
The Fire, which I had smother'd in my Breast,
Broke forth at length, in spight of all Restraint.
Could I have check'd its Rage but one Day more,
I might have conquer'd this unmanly Passion,
Nor languish'd Life away in shameful Bondage.
But Heav'n has mark'd this Period to my Courage.—
Shall Brutus' Son, a Soldier, and a Roman,
Be now a Woman's Slave, the Slave of Tarquin's Daughter!
41
Anger, Revenge, Disdain, Remorse and Love,
By turns prevail, and shake my shatter'd Frame!
MESSALA.
Titus, will you indulge your faithful Friend,
To offer his Advice with Confidence?
TITUS.
Thy Counsels have been ever kind and prudent;
Speak then, and make me blush for these mad Transports.
MESSALA.
I both applaud your Love, and your Resentment.
Shall Titus still uphold and countenance
Th'unjust Authority of these Patricians,
Who with the specious Plea of Liberty
Fix on our Necks a heavier Yoke of Bondage?
If you must blush, blush for this tame Submission!
Shall I behold you pine away your Life,
A Victim of the State, despis'd by Lucia?
Are these the great Rewards of your high Actions?
No doubt, a Heart like yours might still obtain
A Conquest there, and humble the proud Senate.
TITUS.
How dar'st thou sooth me with such idle Hopes?
Is not her Hate as strong as my Affection?
Alas! dost thou not see the fatal Bars
Between us fix'd by Duty and our Fathers?
Must she then go, Messala?
MESSALA.
This very Day!
42
I ought not to complain. Heaven does her Justice.
It form'd her for a Kingdom.
MESSALA.
Heaven, more propitious,
Perhaps design'd her for a milder Sway.
Forgive me, Sir; you know what was her Dower—
Her Brother is no more. Rome was her Right—
But I transgress—Yet if, to make you happy,
To purchase your Repose, my Life could serve;
Or if my Blood—
TITUS.
No more! my Duty conquers.
The Soul of Man is free, that dares be so!
Tho' Passion for a while obscur'd my Reason,
A Soldier's Heart discards this idle Dotage;
For Love is only strong by our Indulgence!
MESSALA.
Behold! th'Ambassador approaches—
The Honour which he pays you—
TITUS.
O fatal Honour!—
Th'Ambassador!—He bears away the Princess!
'Tis he who makes my Life a Scene of Woes!
[Exit Messala.
| Junius Brutus | |