University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

LUCIA, HORTENSIA.
Lucia.
Urge me no more—I will not see him!
Shall I expose myself to new Affronts,
And let him kindle in my lab'ring Breast,
Th'alternate Flames of Love and Indignation?—
Why did'st thou, treach'rous Cælius, thus delude me,
And by thy wily Arts protract my Stay?

HORTENSIA.
You have forgot, that Cælius now expects you.

LUCIA.
I yet remain, and have no Power to quit
This Seat of Woes, the Object of my Hatred!
My Spirits are consum'd in vain Complaints!
Wretch that I am! what Right have I to murmur?
I! who degrading thus the Royal Blood,
Have fix'd my Love upon a Rebel Subject;
Who fond of Fame, and proud of his Exploits,
Can taste no Charms, but Popular Applause.
You saw, Hortensia, he would not follow me.

HORTENSIA.
Trust me, Lucia, Titus feels sharper Pangs
Than you conceive. He labour'd to suppress
His swelling Grief, that struggled for a Vent;
Yet now and then a gushing Tear confess'd,
What inward Anguish preys upon his Soul.
You should excuse him: Can his generous Heart,
More easily than yours, betray a Father?
Do not You tremble for the Life of Tarquin?
And can you blame his Filial Love of Brutus?
Judge of his Pains by what you feel yourself.
Then be not too severe in your Resentment,
Nor grieve yourself, to grieve unhappy Titus.
You also know, by what tremendous Oaths
The Sons of Rome are bound to serve her Interest.
This very Morn he swore Eternal Hatred
To Tarquin's Family. What can he do?—

LUCIA.
'Tis hard indeed, Hortensia; I pity him!
Heav'n knows how deeply his Distress affects me;
I'm almost overwhelm'd!—Why may not Titus
Repent of those rash Oaths, unjustly taken,
Return to his Allegiance, and to Me.
Does not Tiberius, a Son of Brutus too,
Assisted by the Noblest Roman Youths,
Join to restore my Father to his Throne;
Nor in the least pretend to merit Me?
And shall Titus, to whom I've been so partial,
To whom my Soul has overflow'd in Fondness,
Shall he forsake me?

HORTENSIA.
In his divided Heart,
You triumph over Rome and Liberty.

LUCIA.
Ah! guilty Liberty, a Rebel's Virtue!—
I'll wait no more, but instantly depart;
Depart without Regret—if possible.—
What secret Horror thrills thro' all my Soul!
Avert, avenging Gods, this dreadful Omen!
I trembling view yon' tow'ring Capitol,
And shudder for the Life of lovely Titus.
Brutus appears, like some relentless God,
With Fury arm'd to plunge us to Destruction.
Grief, Anger, Love, and Fear distract my Thoughts!
Let us be gone—