University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

TITUS, ARUNS, MESSALA.
TITUS.
Yes, I am fix'd as fate; go, seek the camp.
Superfluous is this waste of time. O'erwhelm'd
With shame, and with despair, henceforth no more
I listen to thy words. Go; leave behind
My virtue only; that, and my misfortunes
Thou wilt not ravish from me. Strongly arm'd,
Thy reasons strive in vain; not so her tears;
Weak and defenceless, I confess their power,
And will no more behold her. Constancy
Shrinks at the sight; a glance of Tullia's eye
Strikes greater dread, than all the tyrant kings,
Could ever raise, with thieir embattled hosts.
View her no more! and have I thus resolved!
I have—conduct her hence—immortal gods!

ARUNS.
Not on my own account, but thine alone,
Staid I in Rome; the portion'd hour we gain'd
With difficulty, is full soon elaps'd;
But Titus should remember it was moved for
At his request.

TITUS.
Say'st thou!—At my request!

ARUNS.
Alas! For thee and Tullia I had form'd
With secret joy, a happier destiny.
And idly hoped these fingers might have twined
A rosy band uniting hearts so pure.
How are these hopes destroy'd!

TITUS.
Insulting man!
Thou hast survey'd me in the hour of shame,
Degraded, lowly sunk beneath myself.
Thou hast seen Titus, for a moment doubtful.
Hence to thy masters, subtle as thou art,
Witness of this disgraceful tenderness!
Hence! Tell them all my failings. Let the tyrants
Whom I have humbled, with exulting hearts,
Know, that the son of Brutus wept before thee.
But add at least, amid the bitter strife
Spite of thy efforts, Tullia's matchless charms,
And pleading tears, still victor o'er my passions,
Enfranchised, and with soul forever Roman,
At liberty I move, and unenslaved
By Tarquin's race. That neither force, nor guile
Shall shake my principles; that I have sworn,
And now renew the oath, eternal war
Against the blood of her my heart adores.

ARUNS.
The grief, which all thy senses hath usurp'd,
Forbids resentment, and to me affords.
A prevalent excuse. I leave thee, Titus,
Pitying thy state calamitous, and e'en
Thy prejudices viewing with respect.
So far from wishing to oppress thy heart
With added woes, I mingle tears with thine.
But Tullia dies.—I can no more.—Farewel!

MESSALA.
O Heaven!

SCENE II.

TITUS, MESSALA.
TITUS.
No, never shall she place a foot
Beyond the Roman confines; none shall dare
Conduct her; at the peril of my life
I will detain her here.

MESSALA.
Thou wilt not surely—

TITUS.
Far be it from me to betray my country!
Yet, what owe I to Rome? Rome drives her hence—
Rome forces her away. But still our souls,
Mix'd, interwoven, cannot be disjoin'd.
I live, I breathe, for her will I pour forth
My heart's warm stream to the last vital drop.
Yet give me thy compassion, shew it now;
My sufferings claim it all. Haste! fly! excite
With the strong vehemence of friendly zeal,
Those who with kindred bosoms feel our wrongs!
Our chosen bands assemble! In despite
Of the curs'd senate, she shall not depart.
We keep her as an hostage, as a pledge
Of treaty with the kings. This pretext urge.
My will is absolute.

MESSALA.
To what a maze
Of sad perplexity thy passion leads!
And where will end this dangerous enterprize
But in th'avowal of a luckless flame
Destined thy bosom to consume in vain?

TITUS.
Hah! Well hast thou admonish'd. It is meet
That to the senate I address my prayers.
Go then with bland and gently-soothing voice
Soften th'asperity of these new rulers,
These kings of Rome. Alledge the public good—
Nay that of Brutus.—Heaven! Where stray my thoughts,
Hurried along, lost in the vacant gulph
Of unessential deeds, and vain designs!

MESSALA.
In this just grief which tears the suffering heart;
Bound to thy aid—

TITUS.
I too am bound to see,
Am bound to speak to her; this fatal way
She needs must pass. Here will I take at least
My final leave; here shall my tongue pronounce
Th'eternal separation.

MESSALA.
Speak to her
As thou proposest; and rely on me.

TITUS.
Distraction! She approaches! I am lost.

SCENE III.

TITUS, MESSALA, TULLIA, ALGINA.
ALGINA.
All things are ready; your commands alone
Th'attendants wait.

TULLIA.
And must I then depart!
O cruel sentence!—Still I feel his power;
Th'ungrateful Titus haunts my peace of mind;
While Brutus, like some god, in terrors clad,
Appears, and aims the dreadful bolt betwixt us.
Love, fear, and grief, commingling stir within
Dire war, and urge me on to frenzy.—Haste!
Let us away!

TITUS.
No, Tullia; I intreat thee—

TULLIA.
Comest thou with insults or with treachery arm'd?
What would'st thou? Unrelenting!

TITUS.
In this day
Of horror, what I ought, is clear and plain.
But, what I would! darkness, opposing clouds,
Conceal the prospect; reason's friendly light
I seek in vain, for thou hast torn it from me.
I stand resign'd; guide on my steps, point out
Their desperate course; with arbitrary sway
My devious senses rule; and if thy foul
Dares to proceed, make known the stern decree,
Fixing the guilt, the baleful crimes of Titus.
No; rather than behold these walls inwrapp'd
In flames; or grim-eyed massacre destroy
The citizens my valour hath preserved;
Rather than my renown'd, my glorious father,
Abandon'd by his fury-blinded son,
Under the steel of Tarquin—

TULLIA.
Save me, heaven!
Nature's inspiring voice I hear, and bend
With reverential duty; thou hast taught me
What the mind feels, which trembles for a father;
Indelibly impress'd it; Oh! remove
These images of dread! Henceforth will Brutus
An equal interest claim; the blood which feeds
This beating heart, is all, for his, engaged.
Our love, my nuptial bands, my life itself
Are the thrice-sacred pledges; in thy charge
Shall I remain, his daughter and his hostage.
Still hesitating! Dost thou think, in secret
That Brutus feels such infinite reluctance
To see thee on a throne? Most true, his head
Is yet uncrown'd; but doth he not possess
Under another name th'essential form
Of royalty? The sweets of sovereign power
He must relinquish with th'expiring year,
Which speedily—Alas! When love is deaf,
How weak are all my arguments!—One word—
And that shall terminate. I leave thee, Titus;
And Oh! I leave thee, bearing in my soul
The truest, purest ardour of affection.
Thou weep'st, thou tremblest; still the time permits—
Speak, say, what more can'st thou require of Tullia?

TITUS.
Thy hatred; that alone is wanting now
To fill up the sad measure of my woes,
And render them complete.

TULLIA.
Too long hath patience
Insulted heard, and can no longer brook
Thy unbecoming murmurs, idle ties,
Complaints fictitious, and imagined wrongs.
Take back thy love, which mine, with conscious shame,
With scorn rejects; take back thy treacherous vows,
More despicable to the mind sincere,
Than e'en thy base refusal. But for me,
Think not that I shall rove th'Italian states
In quest of what I sacrifice to thee,
Splendid and fatal honours; or will mourn
Far from my country, in a monarch's arms,
Th'emotions which in this unhappy bosom
Thou only could'st inspire. No; I have fix'd
My destiny; all-Roman as thou art,
Whose native ruggedness of soul can urge
No claim to virtue, but as nobly proved
Against thy mistress; active and most brave
In heaping miseries on me; shrinking back
With fear, when I require thy aid, whose vows
No bonds retain; now learn their sacred nature,
Th'inviolable witnesses of truth.
Thou shalt behold a woman, in thy eyes
Tho' lowly in esteem, whose resolution
No power can shake; and by the fortitude
Arming this stedfast heart, shalt be convinced
How firm, how pure, how constant is its love.
Beneath these walls, where my forefathers reign'd,
These walls which thy protecting hand secures,
And bars their master's entrance; where, affronts
And equal insults aiming, thou hast dared
Me to betray; hast dared seduce my faith,
And with infidious artifice beguile
A soul without suspicion; here by all
Those gods vindictive who their choicest plagues
Reserve for perjury, I swear this arm,
More just, and more determined far than thine,
Shall with my blood efface the conscious stain
Of every wrong, and punish the rash vision
Which so imperfectly distinguish'd thee.
Ungrateful! Yes, this instant—

[Going away.
TITUS.
From thy mind
Oh! banish the dire purpose! Thou hast conquer'd,
And shalt be satisfied. I yield; tho' all
My nerves with terror thrill; by thy command
Hurried impetuous on—The sharpest anguish
Doom'd to sustain, for thro' my bosom glides
Not one illusive ray, no faint excuse
Arises there; lost in the wild excess
Of passion, even self-deceit with-holds
Its sad and empty solace; love expands
His eager wing, and raps me on to crimes.
Thou could'st not blind, but hast o'ercome my reason.
And totally unworthy to possess,
The warm affection glowing in my soul,
Glowing t'ward thee, I look with fondest eye
On virtue, yet embrace detested guilt.
Hate, shun me, fly from a polluted wretch,
Who dying for thy love, beholds with shame,
And loathes the fatal ardour. Who to gain
Union with thee, the destined ties prepares,
While blackest omens scoul around, mid deeds.
Instinct with horror; where stern murder leads
Her raging bands, and perjuries attend,
A ghastly crew.

TULLIA.
Thou triumph'st o'er me, Titus,
And my unhappy love survey'st with scorn,
Insultingly upbraiding. Well thou know'st
How willingly subjected, all my heart
Is thine. For thee alone I wish to breathe
This vital air; yes; wherefore should I hide
My tenderest thoughts?—But, tho' enslaved by love,
Tho' conscious of my weakness, I should shrink
With less reluctance from the dart of death,
Than from the man, who fears to make me his:
Who would repent the deeds which honour claims,
And his much-injured prince: upon whose brow
These hands have placed th'imperial diadem,
Which his false shame rejects.—But now the time,
The dreadful minute of our separation,
Approaches fast. Oh, Titus, to thy mind
Recall my love, and raise thy thoughts to empire.
Th'ambassador expects me; weigh it all,
Consider well, the action, and the prize.
An hour will bring me back, and with his daughter,
Long exercised in woe, majestic Tarquin.
Farewel! When next I view these hateful walls,
Remember that I enter them a queen
Or sink in death before thee.

TITUS.
Heaven avert
The fatal stroke! This arm shall guard—

TULLIA.
No more:
Hold, Titus. Longer to be seen with me,
Were dangerous; busy is suspicion's eye.
Stay thou; farewel! Resolve this heart to pierce
With mortal aim, or twine my nuptial wreathe.

SCENE IV.

TITUS.
Thou hast prevail'd, inexorable maid,
And Rome submits to bondage. Oh, return!
Be thy dominion absolute o'er her
As o'er my life! I fly to gain the crown,
Or perish, for thee. To desert thy cause,
That is a crime indeed of deepest die,
Now for thy aid, for thy advice, Messala!
Alas! My rash, my warm intemperate sallies
The patience of his friendship have exhausted.
Mistress, friends, Romans, all, all ravish'd from me
In one pernicious day.

SCENE V.

TITUS, MESSALA.
TITUS.
Now let thy zeal
Assist the mad'ning transports of my rage,
And desperate love!—I lead the dangerous way.

MESSALA.
All is prepared; the necessary orders
Give thou! My chosen cohorts are in arms
On the quirinal mount, and will surrender
Th'important pass. Men of unshaken valour;
Ready to acknowledge thee the lawful heir
Of Tarquin, and their solemn oaths to mix
In firmest bond with mine. Haste! Seize at once
Fleet opportunity! Already, lo,
Night spreads her browner wing, to veil in shades
Of deepest secrecy our great design.

TITUS.
The time draws near; and Tullia counting chides
Each tardy moment.—Hence! Vain, idle scruples!
To Tarquin my fidelity is due,
To him first sworn.—The fatal die is cast.
[The Scene opens, and discovers Brutus.
O heavenly powers! My father!

SCENE VI.

BRUTUS, TITUS, MESSALA, LICTORS.
BRUTUS.
Titus, haste!
Rome is in danger; every hope of safety
Is fix'd on thee. By secret information
The senate is apprized of an assault,
At midnight's silent hour to be expected,
The desperate effort of our foes. I sued,
And have obtain'd for thee, my son, for thee,
Whose soul heroic I regard with love
More than paternal, the command in chief;
Illustrious station from th'extremity
Of peril, more illustrious; sacred proof
Of confidence; and which th'assembled fathers
Unanimous bestow'd. Take then thy arms,
Son of my fond affection, lead the war,
Again preserve thy country, pour thy blood
Unsparing, nobly prodigal of life,
And give a nation freedom. Go, my son,
In such an hallow'd cause, if pale in death,
Or on the car triumphant, I shall view thee
With generous envy.

TITUS.
All-o'er-seeing gods!

BRUTUS.
Hah! Whence! And what—

TITUS.
To other hands commit
The senate's favours, and the fate of Rome.

MESSALA.
What dire confusion in his troubled soul
Now reigns!

BRUTUS.
Canst thou reject the splendid meed
By glory offer'd?

TITUS.
Said'st thou, that on me?—
Shall I—

BRUTUS.
Amazement! Doth thy erring heart
Foster so long its wrath against the senate?
Still rankling with the wound? Is this a time
To listen to the dictates of caprice?
And brood o'er fancied injuries? Myself
Could not but see, and own thy claim unjust.
Can he repine, whose virtue hath preserved
His country from destruction? That high prize
Immortally thy own, methinks should bound,
Should satiate young ambition's utmost wish.
Ne'er may a son of mine, before his years,
Before the laws permit him to expect it,
Dare ask the consulate! Seek thou no more,
What justice must deny. Dost thou aspire
To honour? I have placed thee in the rank,
On which thick fall its radiant beams. There stand
Conspicuous, and let tyrants only stir
Thy kindling breast to anger. Both for thee,
And for the state, warm beats my glowing heart
With all a father's feelings. Consecrate
Thy life to Rome, but nothing in return
Demand. For ever cherish in thy soul
A hero's sentiments, but add to these
What still more nobly grace the citizen.
Yet a few lagging steps, and I shall reach
The period of my journey. Soon, my son,
Shall thy victorious hands these eye-lids close.
But in the bloom of thine, defying death,
My name shall fresh survive. A new existence
I shall enjoy, devoted to my country,
And live in Titus.—Wherefore this?—My thoughts
Now urge me where the present danger calls,
Thy guidance to pursue. Tho' feeble age
(Such is heaven's will) its active vigour lost,
Breathes ineffectual courage; yet these eyes
Shall see thee vanquish, or these limbs shall press
The bloody dust with thine, th'avenger still
Of Rome, still free, nor crouching to a tyrant.

TITUS.
Messala! Oh, what tortures!

SCENE VII.

BRUTUS, VALERIUS, TITUS, MESSALA.
VALERIUS.
Let me, Brutus,
Engage a while thy private ear.

BRUTUS.
Away!—
With busiest speed, my son—

[Exeunt Titus and Messala.
VALERIUS.
By false children
Rome is betray'd.

BRUTUS.
What accents dost thou utter
Of evil import?

VALERIUS.
That a plot is form'd,
No doubt remains; insidious treason lurks,
And marks us for its prey; as yet unknown
Who roused the fury from her horrid den.
But Tarquin's name our echoing streets resound;
Nay there are Romans who with abject voice
Talk of submission.

BRUTUS.
Can a citizen
Of Rome, solicit ignominious chains?

VALERIUS.
Dismay'd at my approach, thro' different paths
The traitors fled: but they are close pursued.
Menas and Lælius I suspect, th'abettors
Of kingly right, and arbitrary power,
Who view with secret spleen and discontent
The rising glory of the state; their minds
Eager, between the senate and the people
To plant mistrust; Messala their protector:
To whom I should impute this dark design
Teeming with peril to the common weal,
I should indeed at once condemn Messala,
Did I not see him honour'd by thy son,
Linkt in the strictest amity with Titus.

BRUTUS.
Let us with heedful care observe their steps,
Trace all their winding progress! More than this
Cannot be done. The liberty, the laws
By us establish'd, violence forbid,
And deeds severe, tho' haply necessary.
On mere suspicion to detain a Roman—
Should not we act the tyrants? We, who raised
O'er them the vengeful scourge? But let us haste,
And mingle with the people? Our discourse
Shall give to fear new vigour; animate
With hope the faithful bosom; strike with dread,
And blank astonishment the soul of guilt.
Quick let the senate follow us! The fathers
Of Rome and liberty shall soon restore
To every heart its fortitude. What eye
Beholding us, shall fail with ardent glance
T'express the courage of the glowing breast
Fresh-kindled! Gods! Let instant death be ours,
Rather than bondage!

SCENE VIII.

BRUTUS, VALERIUS, PROCULUS.
PROCULUS.
At the door, a slave
Requests a secret audience of the consul.

BRUTUS.
At night! At this unseasonable hour!

PROCULUS.
Tidings, he says, of most important nature
He brings, a faithful witness of their truth.

BRUTUS.
On which perhaps the existence of the state
Depends; lead on! To hesitate a moment
Were to betray it.
[To Proculus.
Thou, my friend, to Titus!
Bid him, above each post, with vigilance
Guard the Quirinal gate. And may the world,
From the bright fame of his atchievements, own
The chosen race of Brutus is decreed
To subjugate th'aspiring necks of kings!