University of Virginia Library

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.