University of Virginia Library

SCENE IX.

Brutus, Titus, Proculus.
PROCULUS,
[coming up to Titus.]
Behold, my Lord, Brutus approaches.

TITUS.
'Tis my Father! O painful Moments!

[Aside.
PROCULUS,
[seeing the dead Body.]
Ha! Lucia slain? I tremble now for Titus.
The Gods relentless punish Tarquin's Race!
Lictors, remove the Body.

TITUS.
Open, thou Earth! beneath these stagg'ring Feet,
And cover me with everlasting Night!

BRUTUS.
Of two beloved Sons, the Gift of Heaven,
Tiberius is no more!—Now tell me, Titus,
Have I One Son yet left?

TITUS.
You have No Son.

BRUTUS.
Then answer to thy Judge, Bane of my Life!
[He sits down.
Did'st thou resolve, in open Violation
Of every Sacred Tye, to kill thy Father,
And to betray the Liberties of Rome?

TITUS.
My self-divided Heart resolv'd on Nothing.
A deadly Poyson prey'd upon my Soul;
I was, and am a Stranger to myself:
I wander in a Labyrinth of Crimes.
My guilty Heart rebell'd a single Moment;
That Moment stains the Lustre of my Actions;
That Moment brands me with Eternal Shame;
And makes ev'n Life itself a Burden to me.
Rome, which looks up to Brutus as her Father,
Unsettled Rome requires some great Example.
By my just Punishment, then strike a Terror
On all who meditate, like me, her Ruin,
And would restore a Prince they have abjur'd.
Pronounce my Doom, I stand prepar'd to hear it.
Thus shall my Blood be never spilt in vain,
But by my Death I shall preserve my Country.

BRUTUS.
Good Gods! such Courage with such Falshood join'd!
How strangely are his Crimes and Virtues blended!
[Aside.
Amid thy Laurels and Triumphal Joys,
And all th'illustrious Trophies of thy Arms,
What jealous God, Foe to the Roman Name,
Could prompt thy Soul to such a horrid Deed?

TITUS.
A cruel Train of complicated Passions;
Ambition, Hate, Revenge, a sudden Frenzy—

BRUTUS.
Conclude, unhappy Wretch!

TITUS.
A guilty Flame,
The torturing Source of all my dire Misfortunes.
But 'tis too much—I shock your injur'd Patience
By this Recital of my baneful Love—
My frantic Rage and Woes are at the Height!
Finish my Life, my Crimes, and my Despair,
Your own Disgrace and mine!—But if this Hand
E'er fought successfully for Rome and Freedom;
If e'er I follow'd in the glorious Paths,
Which You have trod, and panted after Virtue,
And if my Death deserves a Father's Pity,
[He throws himself on his Knees.
Open your Arms to your relenting Son!
Give him the Comfort of One kind Embrace,
Before he is remov'd for Ever from thee!
O! say at least, that Brutus does not hate him:
These Words will save my Memory from Shame,
And silence the Reproach of busy Tongues.
'Twill chear my Soul in its departing Moments,
To think you pity, and forgive my Crime,
That still you love, and own me for your Son!

BRUTUS.
His just Remorse with deeper Anguish wounds me!
[Aside.
“The violated Genius of thy Country
“Rears his sad Head, and passes Sentence on thee.
Go, Proculus, conduct him to his Fate.—
[Brutus lifts him up in his Arms.
Arise, thou piercing Object of my Sorrow!
Delusive Hope of my declining Years!
Embrace thy wretched Father!—May the Gods
Arm thee with Patience to support thy Sufferings!
The Sovereign Magistrate of injur'd Rome,
Entrusted with the Care of Public Justice,
Was bound by his high Office to condemn
A Crime, the Father's bleeding Heart forgives!
Go meet thy Fate with a more manly Courage,
Than Grief will let me show in parting from thee!
See! while I speak, my streaming Eyes confess,
How dear thou art to this afflicted Breast,
And how reluctantly I tear thee from it!
Thou hast liv'd a Roman, like a Roman die;
And, while she punishes, let Rome admire thee!

TITUS.
May Heav'n prolong th'important Life of Brutus!
Worthy his Name, I now shall die content.

[Exit Titus, guarded by the Lictors.
BRUTUS.
Farewell, thou much-belov'd ill-fated Youth!
Tho' thou art snatch'd untimely from the Earth,
My Misery is heavier far than thine;
For all thy Pangs will in a Moment pass,
But I am doom'd to bear a ling'ring Death;
And to the Urn my hoary Head descends,
Bow'd down with Grief, and never-ceasing Woes!
How hard the Task, when partial Nature pleads,
To yield the Father's, to the Patriot's Claim!