University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Cælius, Messala.
CÆLIUS.
Have thy Attempts succeeded?
Will Titus join with the Confederate Kings?

MESSALA.
I've been, indeed, too sanguine in my Hopes;
The Heart of Titus is inflexible.
In every Act he fondly copies Brutus,
And still harangues for Liberty and Laws.
The Senate he abhors, and doats on Lucia;
Ambition, Pride, Disdain, and Jealousy,
Alternately inflame his lab'ring Breast;
And yet the Love of Liberty prevails.
At Tarquin's Name he starts into a Passion;
And when I urg'd the Prospect of a Crown,
With a fierce Look he broke abruptly from me.
It had been dangerous to tempt him farther.

CÆLIUS.
So you despair of making Titus ours?

MESSALA.
It cost less Pains to bring his Brother over;
I have engag'd, at least, one Son of Brutus.

CÆLIUS.
Is then Tiberius fix'd to us already?
Say, by what happy Scheme didst thou succeed?

MESSALA.
Ambition was the Lure by which I took him;
Long with a jealous Eye he has beheld
The spreading Lustre of his Brother's Fame;
Whose splendid Triumph stung him to the Heart;
Tho' generous Titus, scorning all Suspicion,
Stretch'd out his Arms from the Triumphal Chariot,
And with a fond Embrace carest the Youth,
Seeming to make him Partner of his Glory.
I chose those lucky Moments to suggest,
With what Contempt his Merits were receiv'd,
While every Street rung with the Praise of Titus:
I promis'd also, in the Name of Tarquin,
Profuse Rewards, and all but Royal Honours;
In short, this Bait has caught the greedy Prey;
Firm to the King, he waits for your Instructions.

CÆLIUS.
Can he surrender the Quirinal Gate?

MESSALA.
Titus is posted there, whose dreadful Valour
Has too much check'd the Progress of your Arms.
He is the Guardian Genius of his Country.
I dare not give my Voice for this Attack;
Nor hope Success without his pow'rful Aid.

CÆLIUS.
But, since he was ambitious to be Consul,
Can he resist the Offer of a Crown,
His certain Dower, if he espouses Lucia?

MESSALA.
A Crown seems an Affront to his stern Virtue.

CÆLIUS.
But has not Lucia's Beauty touch'd his Heart?

MESSALA.
He doats upon her even to Distraction.
The Flame suppress'd, with greater Fury burns;
He hates the Father, yet adores the Daughter;
He fears to speak to her, and sighs in secret:
Now he retreats, then eagerly pursues.
He yet knows nought of Love but its mad Transports.
In the wild Hurry of this furious Tempest,
A Moment may produce unlook'd-for Changes.
The Soul of Titus, eager and impetuous,
Flies out into Extremes of Love and Hatred.
Should he but once engage to aid our Arms,
'Twill be impossible to check his Ardour.
Ambition's smother'd Fire, that swells his Breast,
Perhaps may kindle at the Torch of Love.
No doubt he would be glad to see the Senate
With abject Fear lie prostrate at his Feet.
But I should flatter you, my Lord, to promise
That his proud Heart will even yield to Love.
Howe'er, I'll make another strenuous Effort.

CÆLIUS.
Since he loves Lucia, he may still be won.
A tender Word, or one kind Look from her,
Will more prevail to bend his stubborn Virtue,
Than all the Schemes of the profoundest Statesmen—
The Passions of Mankind are our best Servants;
By those we turn, and wind them at our Pleasure.

Lucia enters, Messala retires.