University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

BRUTUS, SENATORS, PROCULUS, LICTORS, VINDIX A SLAVE.
BRUTUS.
Yes, Rome had now been lost; beneath the force
Of tyranny, majestic freedom sunk
To rise no more; for your reception death
Had ope'd his gloomy mansion; o'er our heads
Ruin inevitable hung; this night,
This instant, Tarquin would have rush'd upon us,
Grasping the terrors of revenge.—This Tuscan
With subtle art had scoop'd th'abyss, wide-stretch'd
Under our feet, and doom'd us to destruction.
But what will scarce acquire belief, there are
Of Roman birth, who 'gainst their native land
Conspiring, would have bent the servile knee
Before a monarch's nod; their ignorant
Misjudging passions, guided by Messala,
Who to the treacherous Aruns scrupled not
To sell his country. This with sleepless eye
Heaven saw, and warded off the fatal stroke
O'er Rome, o'er you impending. The discourse
Of Aruns by this faithful slave o'er-heard.
[Shewing Vindix.
His apprehensive mind suspected thence
The guilty consequence, to me he brought
His loyal information, all my fears
Awakening for the public good, and all
My active zeal rekindling. Strait I order'd
Messala to be seized, and brought before you.
Seeing his well-earn'd punishment prepared,
I hoped the traitor would, by fear compell'd,
Have named his base accomplices. Around him
My Lictors stood, when on a sudden, forth
He drew a dagger, whose fell point perhaps
For you was sharpen'd, and exclaim'd aloud,
“Would you my secrets learn? This mortal wound
“Contemplate! Trace them in my heart's warm blood!
“He who hath boldly dared conspire against you,
“Knows to conceal his purposes, and die.”
Then, e'er the astonish'd Lictors could advance,
Pierced his false breast, and tho' his crimes disgraced
The glorious title, like a Roman sell.
Aruns meanwhile had left the walls, the guards
Pursued him to the borders of the camp,
Securing him and Tullia. Soon each dark
And tangled maze of this destructive plan
Heaven will, I trust, unfold. Publicola
Will drag the traitors from their secret haunts.
But when the parricides shall stand confest,
Romans, beware! Against them steel your souls,
And banish mercy! Should our eyes behold
Friends, brothers, children, let each tender thought
Be in their guilt extinguish'd, and regard
Your solemn oath alone. Rome, liberty,
Demands that they should suffer; to bestow
Pardon on them, were to partake their crimes.
[To the Slave.
Thou, on whose birth, erroneous fortune stamp'd
The seal of slavery, when she ought t'have given
A Roman to the world! To whom the senate
Owes this fair light of day; from whom the state
Derives its safety, be the freedom thine,
To them, to me imparted: and henceforth
To nobler views aspiring, with my sons
Claim equal rank; like them the dread of kings.
But hark! What sudden shouts!

PROCULUS.
Th'ambassador
Seiz'd by the guards, I have conducted hither.

BRUTUS.
With what assurance can he dare—

SCENE II.

BRUTUS, SENATORS, ARUNS, LICTORS.
ARUNS.
How long
Will you with sacrilege, injurious Romans,
Man's general rights invade? The people viewing
All objects in rebellion's treacherous mirrour,
Is it your purpose in their ministers,
To shew your scorn of kings? Back to these walls
Your Lictors with ill-manner'd violence
Have forced me to return; my royal master
Would you insult? Or is it a disgrace
Levell'd at me! The rank which I sustain,
Among all nations sacred—

BRUTUS.
Be it so,
That argument condemns thee; for the more
Thy station is revered, in stronger light
Shines forth thy guilt. An empty name alone,
And its superfluous honour, boast not here.

ARUNS.
Sent from a king, shall an ambassador—

BRUTUS.

SCENE III.

SENATORS, BRUTUS, VALERIUS, PROCULUS.
BRUTUS.
Say, Valerius,
The traitors doubtless thou hast apprehended,
At least they all are known? Hah! whence that cloud
Darkening thy brow! That melancholy aspect
Which seems as if portending greater ills,
Calamities more dreadfully severe?
These tremors whence?

VALERIUS.
Remember thou art Brutus.

BRUTUS.
What dost thou mean?—

VALERIUS.
I shudder at the thought,
Its aid my tongue refuses.
[Gives him the Tablets.
In this list,
Read, know the guilty.

BRUTUS.
Do my eyes deceive me?
O day most hateful! O most wretched father!
The name of Tiberinus! Of my son!—
Forgive this weakness.—Is the traitor seized?

VALERIUS.
With two of the conspirators he dared
Oppose the course of justice; and resolved,
Rather, than yield, on death, beside them fell
Cover'd with wounds. But, Oh! A tale more dire
Remains for thee, for all the sons of Rome;
To me more exquisitely painful.

BRUTUS.
Hah!
What am I to expect!

VALERIUS.
Again behold
That fatal catalogue, which from Messala
By Proculus was wrested.

BRUTUS.
Give it me—
Let me behold it.—Why these fears? This horror?
Eternal guardians! Titus!

[He sinks into the Arms of Proculus.
VALERIUS.
Near this place
I found him wand'ring, in despair, unarm'd,
He seem'd as panic-struck, and full of terror;
Haply reflecting on th'attempt which now
Shocks every sense, an enterprize abhorr'd

BRUTUS.
Go, conscript fathers, to your sacred dome
Return; no station in th'assembled senate
Dare I again assume. Go, extirpate
My guilty race; punish the sire himself;
Nor by false mercy sway'd refrain to pierce
This heart, the source of their polluted blood.
I shall not follow you; lest in my presence,
Rome should suspend her judgment, or pull back
The hand of vengeance.

SCENE IV.

BRUTUS.
[Alone.
Powers supreme! Who rule
With might resistless! To whose high decrees
My soul, and every secret wish it breathes,
Submissive bends! Ye gods, who have revenged
Our violated laws! Who have revenged
My injured country! By whose aid these hands
On the strong base of justice, have upraised
The fame of freedom, built, as it appear'd,
To last thro' endless ages! Would you sink
The holy structure level with the dust?
Hath your impulsive spirit urged my children
Against your own celestial work?—Alas!
That Tiberinus, blind with headstrong rage,
Should seek t'obey a tyrant, and reduce
His country to the yoke of servitude!
Most grievous was the stroke, for tho' a traitor,
He was my son. But, Titus! In whose breast
Dwelt each heroic virtue, upon whom
Rome gazed, enamour'd! Who this very day
Shone forth the minion of success; full fraught
With glory's brightest gifts; by victory led,
And placed aloft in her triumphal car!
Crown'd by my hands with laurel, while with shouts
The capitol resounded; whom my age
With fondest hope regarded; on whose worth
The total state relied! That he! that Titus!
All-powerful gods!

SCENE V.

BRUTUS, VALERIUS, ATTENDANTS, LICTORS.
VALERIUS.
The senate hath resolved,
To thy determination to submit
The sentence of thy son.

BRUTUS.
To mine!

VALERIUS.
His fate
On thee alone depends.

BRUTUS.
How of the rest
Have they disposed?

VALERIUS.
All who conspired besides
Have been condemn'd; e'en now perhaps they feel
The mortal stroke.

BRUTUS.
And is his destiny
Referr'd to me? The fathers of their country,
Have they to my arbitrement decreed
The life or death of Titus? of my son?

VALERIUS.
It is a signal honour, which they thought
Due to thy virtues.

BRUTUS.
O my country!

VALERIUS.
What,
Shall I inform the senate, is thy answer?

BRUTUS.
That Brutus sees, and values, as he ought,
A favour so distinguish'd; freely given,
And unsolicited; nor shall he prove
Unworthy of the trust.—But, Titus yielded
Without resistance; could he then—Forgive me,
If I am anxious to find grounds for doubt.
To him Rome owes her freedom; and affection
Cannot at once its pleasing thoughts resign,
My heart still t'ward him beats.

VALERIUS.
Th'unhappy Tullia—

BRUTUS.
Say, what of Tullia?

VALERIUS.
Hath too well confirm'd
The truth of our suspicions.

BRUTUS.
How, Valerius?

VALERIUS.
Brought back with shame and anguish to our walls,
When her sad eyes beheld the dreadful scene
Of punishment prepared; her hand completing
The melancholy sacrifice, she fell,
She breathed her last; thus offering to our laws,
Ill-fortuned maid, the sole remaining branch
From a vile tyrant sprung.—If Titus err'd,
If strongly tempted, he betray'd his country,
She was the cause.—My heart reveres thee, Brutus—
I venerate a father's sacred grief;
But Tullia when expiring, hither cast
Her eyes, scarce struggling with th'incumbent weight,
And call'd on Titus.

BRUTUS.
Oh, all-righteous gods!

VALERIUS.
Thou art his judge; whether thou strike the victim,
Save, or condemn; Rome cannot but approve
What Brutus shall determine.

BRUTUS.
Lictors, hence!
Bring Titus strait before me.

VALERIUS.
I retire,
While all my bosom, by thy virtue fill'd,
Dilated swells. Astonishment and pity
With admiration join as I behold thee.
I go with awe imprest, to represent
Th'excess of thy affliction to the senate,
And thy unshaken fortitude of soul.

SCENE VI.

BRUTUS, PROCULUS.
BRUTUS.
No; every circumstance within my mind
The more I scan, the less can I imagine
My son would treason's fatal snares inweave
For Rome's destruction. This, his filial love,
The zeal with which he ever served his country,
Must have opposed. It was not possible
In one short day thus to forget himself,
And each firm-rooted principle destroy.
Away, intruding thoughts!—He is not guilty.

PROCULUS.
Perhaps Messala, in whose wily brain
This execrable plot was formed, might seek
A shelter under his illustrious name;
Or who can say what envy might contrive,
Observing with a cloud his radiant beams,
Dazzled by too much glory?

BRUTUS.
Grant it, Heaven!

PROCULUS.
At least he is thy son, thy only hope;
And whether it appears he join'd or not
In the conspiracy; th'indulgent senate
To thee resign his fate. His life is safe,
Whilst in thy hands: thou wilt preserve the hero,
Preserve him for the public; add to this,
Thou art a father.

BRUTUS.
And a Roman consul.

SCENE VII.

BRUTUS, PROCULUS, TITUS.
[At the farther End of the Stage, conducted by the Lictors.]
PROCULUS.
See where he comes!

TITUS.
Hah, Brutus! how I sink
Beneath th'oppressive weight of grief and shame.
These trembling limbs—Open, thou solid earth,
And in thy central darkness ever hide me!
Wilt thou permit thy son—

BRUTUS.
Presumptuous, hold!
No farther! Lately I possess'd two children,
How dear to this fond heart, witness, ye gods,
Who gave them to me! One, alas! is lost.
One, said I? Oh, thou most unhappy Titus!
Speak, have I yet a son?

TITUS.
No son is thine.

BRUTUS.
Now then, attend thy judge, attend and answer,
My stain, and my disgrace!
[He seats himself.
Could'st thou resolve
T'enslave thy country? To betray thy father
Into the hands of lawless power? To sport
With perjury, and break thy sacred oaths?

TITUS.
I had resolved on nothing; but my soul
With deadly poison fill'd, its very essence
Infected, plague-struck, to its horrid force
Compell'd to yield; the knowledge of myself
Was ravish'd from me, and in vain I strive
E'en now for recollection. Wand'ring still
In a delirious maze, my heart which then
By frenzy urged, left reason far behind,
Was guilty for a moment. That short space
O'erwhelm'd me with eternal shame, and stamp'd
Deep on my brow the mark of treason. Gods!
Of treason to the country which I prized
With sumless estimation.—Madness fled;
Reason soon came, and with it brought remorse,
Dreadful its stings, its tortures are immense,
And equal to my crime; Rome could not take
Severer punishment in its just vengeance.
Pronounce my doom. The common-weal requires
My forfeit life; all eyes are fix'd on thee,
And an example ought to be display'd
Great and conspicuous; so, withheld by terror
At my deserved fate, no son of Rome
Shall dare hereafter to pursue my steps.
And as thro' life, so in the hour of death,
I still shall serve my country. While the blood
Always expended for her sake, unstain'd
In its pure course till this pernicious day,
Shall, as it wont, be from my heart pour'd forth,
And only flow for liberty.

BRUTUS.
I hear
With wonder! How, with perfidy so base,
Accords this generous ardour! Blackest crimes,
(Horrid assemblage!) with the brightest virtues
In union join'd!—Heaven! With the laurels crown'd,
And mid the trophied ensigns, to my eyes
More beauteous for the sanguine stains they bore,
What envious demon breathed into thy heart
This levity and fickleness so dire,
And so unparallel'd?

TITUS.
All, all the passions
With inimical power; the thirst of vengeance,
Ambition, hatred, the fierce sudden rage
Of madly-wild despair—

BRUTUS.
Unhappy youth!
Proceed!

TITUS.

BRUTUS.
I feel his anguish!
It overpowers me!—Must it be?—O Rome!
O genius of my country!—Proculus—
Call thou the lictors hither, bid them lead
My son to death.—Rise, wretched Titus! Rise!
Object of my aversion, of my love
And tenderest sympathy! My age's hope!
Dear to its partial sight! And fondly deem'd
Its sure support!—Approach! Embrace thy father!
Who could not but condemn thee! yet had seal'd
Frankly thy pardon, had he not been Brutus.
Witness these sighs, these tears, which as I speak,
Descend upon thee!—Go, and meet thy fate
With steadier fortitude? Go, look on death
Calm and unmoved, with more of Roman firmness
Than I can boast! And while thy country claims
Its vengeance due, let it admire thy fall.

TITUS.
This last embrace! Farewel! the mortal stroke
Impends—Enough! I meet it with a soul
Still worthy of my father.

SCENE VIII.

BRUTUS, PROCULUS.
PROCULUS.
All the senate
Struck with sincerest grief, and thrill'd with horror
The dire event which on thy head—

BRUTUS.
No more:
Know'st thou not Brutus! Shall he now attend
The voice of consolation! Think whose arms
Surround us, with new-kindled rage again
Mars calls us to the field.—To Rome alone
My cares belong; she every thought inspires.
Away! Her sons in this disastrous hour
Demand that I should fill his vacant place
Whom I bade bleed for them. At least I thus
Shall reach the goal of my sad life, and die,
As Titus ought, the champion of my country.

SCENE THE LAST.

BRUTUS, PROCULUS, A SENATOR.
SENATOR.
Brutus! Alas—

BRUTUS.
My son is dead?

SENATOR.
He is—
These eyes survey'd—

BRUTUS.
Thank we the bounteous gods!
Their glorious work is perfect; Rome is free.