 | Brutus |  |
SCENE III.
TULLIA, ARUNS, ALGINA.ARUNS.
[Presenting Tullia a Letter.
This letter, from the king; to me inclosed.
TULLIA.
Protect him, heaven! And on his future days
Shed beams more bright!
[Reads.
“The throne of Rome again
“May from its ashes rise; and he who triumph'd
“Over his sovereign, prove his surest friend.
“In Titus all the hero shines confest;
“He must uphold the sceptre, which I mean
“To share with him. Remember thou, from whom
“Thy being sprang; think on my weal or woe
“To thee alone confided. I insist not
“On the Ligurian monarch's claim; is Titus
“Thy better choice? The nuptials I approve.”
Shed beams more bright!
[Reads.
“The throne of Rome again
“May from its ashes rise; and he who triumph'd
“Over his sovereign, prove his surest friend.
“In Titus all the hero shines confest;
“He must uphold the sceptre, which I mean
“To share with him. Remember thou, from whom
“Thy being sprang; think on my weal or woe
“To thee alone confided. I insist not
“On the Ligurian monarch's claim; is Titus
“Thy better choice? The nuptials I approve.”
Eyes! Is your vision perfect?—Titus!—No;
It cannot be.—My father, through the progress
Of his misfortunes still inflexible,
Could he?—Whence learnt he this?—And how?—Alas!
Why thus attempt to pierce into my heart?
And wrest its secrets from me? Spare! Oh! spare
A mind oppress'd with sorrow! Nor display
The fraudful net for unsuspecting youth!
It cannot be.—My father, through the progress
Of his misfortunes still inflexible,
Could he?—Whence learnt he this?—And how?—Alas!
Why thus attempt to pierce into my heart?
And wrest its secrets from me? Spare! Oh! spare
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The fraudful net for unsuspecting youth!
ARUNS.
My only aim is reverence to my king,
Attention to his words, respectful silence,
And zeal to do you service. Far from me
Be it removed, those sentiments to trace
Kept undisclosed by you! My eyes shall ne'er
Presumptuous glance upon the sacred veil
Around them cast.—Yet duty bids me say,
That heaven by you this empire will restore,
And place its golden sceptre in your hand,
The just reward of virtue.
TULLIA.
Hah! To serve
My father! And engage without reproach
My love to Titus!—But will he—
ARUNS.
Reject
All doubts of him; the royal race is now
That heroe's warmest care. Indignant scorn,
The thoughts sublime which swell his generous heart,
No longer can endure the gloomy malice
Of these austere republicans. Denied,
By the base senate what his valour claim'd,
He feels, nor strives to soothe, th'imbitter'd pang.
Now, pity t'ward his prince, and loyalty
Resume their seat; Oh! Fix them in his soul!
Not that I boast with accurate survey
His bosom to have read; but knowing thee,
He cannot but adore transcendent worth,
And dignity of charms. What eye undazzled
Can view a crown, by Tullia's hand presented?
Herself, (a more inestimable gift,)
To all the sparkling radiance of its gems
Communicating lustre? Meet him then,
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Triumph at once o'er this sworn foe of kings,
Tear from the senate, to thy father give,
This bulwark of the state, this guardian god.
Oh! Struggle to deserve, the greatest honour,
That ever was to human hands intrusted,
The cause of Tarquin, and the fate of Rome.
| Brutus | |