Are but delusions all: does Titus hate
The senate thus? alas! and must I owe
That to resentment which is due to love?
algina.
I know the senate have offended him;
That he’s ambitious; that he burns for Tullia.
tullia.
Then he’ll do all to serve me: fly, Algina,
Away, begone.
[Exit Algina.
And yet this sudden change
Alarms me: O! what anguish racks my heart!
Now, love, do thou assist and guide my virtue!
My fame, my duty, reason, all command it
And shall my father owe his crown to me,
Shall Tullia be the chain to bind their friendship;
And all Rome’s happiness depend on mine?
O, when shall I impart to thee, my Titus,
The wondrous change we little thought to see,
When shall I hear thy vows, and give thee mine,
Without a pain, a sorrow, or a fear?
My woes are past; now, Rome, I can forgive thee;
If Titus leaves thee, Rome, thou art a slave:
If he is mine, proud senate, thou art no more:
He loves me; tremble therefore, and obey.
SCENE V.
titus, tullia.
titus.
May I believe it? wilt thou deign once more
To look on this abhorred Roman, long
The object of thy hatred, and thy foe?
tullia.
The face of things, my lord, is strangely altered;
Fate now permits me—but first tell me, Titus,
Has Tullia still an interest in thy heart?
titus.
Alas! thou canst not doubt thy fatal power;
Thou knowest my love, my guilt, and my despair;
And holdest a cruel empire o’er a life
Which I detest; exhaust your rage upon me;
My fate is in your hands.
tullia.
Know, mine depends
On thee.
titus.
On Titus? never can this trembling heart
Believe it: am I then no longer hated?
Speak on, my Tullia: O, what flattering hope
Thus in a moment lifts me to the height
Of mortal bliss?
tullia.
[Giving him the letter.
Read this, and make thyself,
Thy Tullia, and her father happy—Now
May I not hope—but wherefore that stern brow
And frowning aspect? gods!
titus.
Of all mankind
Titus is sure the most accursed: blind fate,
Bent on my ruin, showed me happiness,
Then snatched it from me: to complete my woes,
It doomed me to adore, and to destroy thee:
I love thee, and have lost thee now forever.
tullia.
How, Titus!
titus.
Yes; this fatal hour condemns me
To shame and horror: to betray or Rome
Or Tullia: all that’s left to my sad choice
Is guilt, or misery.
tullia.
What sayest thou, Titus?
When with this hand I offer thee a throne;
Now when thou knowest my heart, for no longer
Will I conceal my virtuous passion for thee;
When duty yields a sanction to our love;
Alas! I thought this happy day would prove
The fairest of my life, and yet the moment
When first my fearful heart, without a blush,
Might own its passion, is the first that calls
For my repentance. Darest thou talk to me
Of guilt and misery? Know, thus to serve
Ungrateful men against their lawful prince,
To scorn my proffered bounties, and oppress me,
These are my miseries, Titus, these thy crimes.
Mistaken youth, weigh in the even balance
What Rome refused, and what she offers thee:
Or deal forth laws, or meanly stoop to obey them:
Be governed by a rabble, or a king;
By Rome, or me: direct him right, ye gods!
titus.
[Giving her back the letter.
My choice is made.
tullia.
And fearest thou to avow it?
Be bold, and speak at once; deserve my pardon,
Or merit my revenge: what’s thy resolve?
titus.
’Tis to be worthy of thee, of myself,
And of my country; to be just, and faithful;
’Tis to adore and imitate thy virtues;
It is to lose, O Tullia, yet deserve thee.
tullia.
Forever then—
titus.
Forgive me, dearest Tullia;
Pity my weakness, and forget my love:
Pity a heart foe to itself, a heart
A thousand times more wretched now than even
When thou didst hate me: O! I cannot leave,
I cannot follow thee; I cannot live
Or with thee or without thee; but will die
Rather than see thee given to another.
tullia.
My heart’s still thine, and I forgive thee, Titus.
titus.
If thou dost love me, Tullia, be a Roman;
Be more than queen, and love the commonweal:
Bring with thee patriot zeal, the love of Rome,
And of her sacred laws, be that thy dowry:
Henceforth let Brutus be thy father, Rome
Thy mother, and her loved avenger, Titus,
Thy husband: thus shall Romans yield the palm
Of glory to an Etruscan maid, and owe