Yet shudder at it: I am still more wretched,
Because my guilty soul has no excuse,
No poor delusion left. I have not even
The joy of self-deceit to soothe my sorrows:
No, thou hast conquered, not betrayed me, Tullia;
I loathe the fatal passion which I feel,
And rush on vice, yet know and honor virtue.
Hate me, avoid me, leave a guilty wretch
Who dies for love, yet hates himself for loving;
Nor fears to mix his future fate with thine,
Midst crimes, and horrors, perjury, and death.
tullia.
You know too well your influence o’er my heart;
Mock my fond passion, and insult my love;
Yes, Titus, ’tis for thee alone I live,
For thee would die: yet, spite of all my love,
And all my weakness, death were far more welcome
Than the reluctant hand of cruel Titus,
Who is ashamed to serve his royal master,
And blushes to accept a kingdom from me.
The dreadful hour of separation comes,
Think on it, Titus, and remember well
That Tullia loves, and offers thee a throne.
The ambassador expects me; fare thee well,
Deliberate and determine: an hour hence
Again thou shalt behold me with my father:
When I return to these detested walls
Know, Titus, I’ll return a queen, or perish.
titus.
Thou shalt not die: I go—
tullia.
Stop, Titus, stop;
If thou shouldst follow me, thy life’s in danger,
Thou’lt be suspected; therefore stay: farewell;
Resolve to be my murderer, or my husband.
SCENE IV.
titus.
[Alone.
O Tullia, thou hast conquered, Rome’s enslaved:
Return to rule o’er her, and o’er my life,
Devoted to thee: haste, I fly to crown thee,
Or perish in the attempt: the worst of crimes
Were to abandon thee. Now, where’s Messala?
My headstrong passion hath at length worn out
His patient friendship; mistress, Romans, friends,
All in one fatal day, hath Titus lost.
SCENE V.
titus, messala.
titus.
O my Messala, help me in my love,
And my revenge: away; haste, follow me.
messala.
Command, and I obey: my troops are ready
At the Quirinal mount to give us up
The gates, and all my gallant friends have sworn
To acknowledge Titus as the rightful heir
Of Tarquin: lose no time; propitious night
Already offers her kind shade to veil
Our great design.
titus.
The hour approaches: Tullia
Will count each minute: Tarquin, after all,
Had my first oaths: away, the die is cast.
[The lower part of the stage opens and discovers Brutus.
What do I see; my father!
SCENE VI.
brutus, titus, messala, lictors.
brutus.
Titus, haste,
Rome is in danger; thou art all our hope:
Secret instructions have been given the senate
That Rome will be attacked at dead of night,
And I have gained for my beloved Titus
The first command, in this extremity
Of public danger. Arm thyself, my son,
And fly, a second time, to save thy country;
Hazard thy life once more in the great cause
Of liberty; or victory or death
Must crown thy days, and I shall envy thee.
titus.
O heaven!
brutus.
My son!
titus.
To other hands commit
The senate’s favors, and the fate of Rome.
messala.
What strange disorder has possessed his soul!
brutus.
Dost thou refuse the proffered glory?
titus.
I!
Shall I, my lord—
brutus.
Ha! doth thy heart still burn
With proud resentment of thy fancied wrongs?
Is this a time, my son, for fond caprice?
Can he who saved his country be unhappy?
Immortal honor! will not that suffice
Without the consulship? The laws, thou knowest,
Refused it, Titus, to thy youth alone,
Not to thy merit: think no more of that:
Go; I have placed thee in the post of honor;
Let tyrants only feel thy indignation;
Give Rome thy life; ask nothing in return,
But be a hero; be yet more, my son,
A Roman: I am hastening to the end
Of my short journey; thy victorious hands
Must close my eyes; supported by thy virtues,
My name shall never die; I shall revive
And live once more in Titus: but perhaps
It is decreed that I must follow thee;
Old age is weak; but I will see thee conquer,
Or perish with thee, Rome’s avenger still,
Free, and without a master.
titus.
O Messala!