VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Вольтер
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monarchy, so oft admired, so oft

       Detested by us, is the best or worst

       Of human governments: A tyrant king

       Will make it dreadful, and a good, divine.

      titus.

       Messala, dost thou know me? Dost thou know

       I hold thee for a traitor, and myself

       Almost as guilty for conversing with thee?

      messala.

       Know thou, the honor thou contemnest shall soon

       Be wrested from thee, and another hand

       Perform thy office.

      titus.

       Ha! another! who?

      messala.

       Thy brother.

      titus.

       Ay! my brother.

      messala.

       He has given

       His faith to Tarquin.

      titus.

       Could Tiberius e’er

       Betray his country?

      messala.

       He will serve his king,

       And be a friend to Rome: in spite of thee,

       Tarquin will give his daughter to the man

       Who shall with warmest zeal defend her father.

      titus.

       Perfidious wretch! thou hast misled my steps.

       And left me hanging o’er the precipice;

       Left me the dreadful choice or to accuse

       My brother, or partake his guilt; but know,

       Sooner thy blood—

      messala.

       My life is in thy power,

       Take it this moment; I deserve to die

       For striving to oblige you: shed the blood

       Of friend, of mistress, and of brother; lay

       The breathless victims all before the senate,

       And for thy virtues ask the consulship:

       Or let me hence, and tell them all I know,

       Accuse my fellow-traitors, and myself

       Begin the sacrifice.

      titus.

       Messala, stop,

       Or dread my desperate rage.

      SCENE VIII.

       Table of Contents

      titus, messala, albinus.

      albinus.

       The ambassador

       Would see you now, my lord; he’s with the princess.

      titus.

       Yes, I will fly to Tullia: O ye gods

       Of Rome, ye guardians of my much-loved country!

       Pierce this corrupted, this ungrateful heart:

       Had Titus never loved, he had been virtuous:

       And must I fall a sacrifice to thee,

       Detested senate! let us hence.

       [Turning to Messala.

       Thou seest,

       Messala, this proud capitol replete

       With monuments of Titus’ faith.

      messala.

       ’Tis filled

       By a proud senate.

      titus.

       Ay: I know it well:

       But hark! I hear the voice of angry heaven,

       It speaks to me in thunder, and cries, stop,

       Ungrateful Titus, thou betrayest thy country:

       No, Rome, no, Brutus, I am still thy son:

       O’er Titus’ head the sun of glory still

       Hath shed his brightest rays; he never yet

       Disgraced his noble blood: your victim, gods,

       Is spotless yet; and if this fatal day

       Shall doom me to involuntary crimes,

       If I must yield to fate, let Titus die

       Whilst he is innocent, and save his country.

      End of the Third Act.

      ACT IV.

      SCENE I.

       Table of Contents

      titus, aruns, messala.

      titus.

       Urge me no more: I’ve heard too much already:

       Shame and despair surround me, but begone,

       I am resolved: go, leave me to my sorrows,

       And to my virtue: reason pleads in vain,

       But Tullia’s tears are eloquent indeed:

       One look from her will more unman my soul

       Than all your tyrant’s threats: but never more

       Will I behold her; let her go: O heaven!

      aruns.

       I stayed but to oblige you, sir, beyond

       The time which you so earnestly requested,

       And which we scarce could gain.

      titus.

       Did I request it?

      aruns.

       You did, my lord, and I in secret hoped

       A fairer fate would crown your loves; but now

       ’Tis past; we must not think on’t.

      titus.

       Cruel Aruns!

       Thou hast beheld my shame, and my disgrace,

       Thou hast seen Titus for a moment doubtful:

       Thou artful witness of my folly, hence!

       And tell thy royal masters all my weakness;

       Tell the proud tyrants, that their conqueror,

       The son of Brutus, wept before thy face;

       But tell them too, that, spite of all my tears,

       Spite of thy eloquence, and Tullia’s charms,

       I yet am free, a conqueror o’er myself:

       That, still a Roman, I will never yield

       To Tarquin’s blood, but swear eternal war

       Against the race of her whom I adore.

      aruns.

       Titus, I pity and excuse thy grief;

       And, far from wishing to oppress thy heart

       With added sorrows, mix my sighs with thine;

       Only remember, thou hast killed thy Tullia

       Farewell, my lord.

      messala.

       O heaven!

      SCENE II.

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