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Hor. But that the princes love his son, brave Titus, y dagger should have pierced his throat ere now, nd sent him to his mother earth forever!

e shall be watched.-Come, come with me, Valerius.

Val. The gods restore thee to thyself,

And us to thee!

Bru. [Alone.] A little longer,

[Exit, L. U. E.

[Exit, L. U. E

A little longer yet support me, patience!
The day draws on it presses to the birth-
I see it in the forming womb of time-
The embryo liberty.-Ha!-tis my son-
Down, rebel nature, down!-

Enter TITUS, R.

Tit. Welcome to Rome!

Would I might welcome thee to reason, too!
Bru. Give me thy hand-nay, give it me-
Tit. What would'st thou ?

Speak to thy son.

Bru. I had a thing to say,

But I have lost it. Let it pass-no matter.

Tit. Look not upon me with those eyes, but speak What is it that annoys thee? tell thy friend

How can I serve thee? What dost lack ?

Bru. Preferment.

Thou canst do much at court.

Tit. Ah, this is nothing!

Bru. So much the fitter for a fool's petition,

And a court promise.

Tit. Oh, this trifling racks me.

Bru. Lend me thine ear: I'll tell a secret to thee

Worth a whole city's ransom. This it is:

Nay, ponder it, and lock it in thy heart

There are more fools, my son, in this wise world,

Than the gods ever made.

Tit. Say'st thou, my father?

Expound this riddle. If thy mind doth harbour

Aught that imports a son like me to know,

Or, knowing, to achieve, declare it.

Bru. Now, my son,

Should the great gods, who made me what thou see'st,

Repent, and in their vengeance cast upon me
The burden of my senses back again-
What wouldst thou say?

Tit. Oh, my lamented father,

Would the kind gods restore thee to thy reason

Bru. Then, Titus, then I should be mad with reason. Had I the sense to know myself a Roman,

This hand should tear this heart from out my ribs,

Ere it should own allegiance to a tyrant.

If, therefore, thou dost love me, pray the gods
To keep me what I am. Where all are slaves,
None but the fool is happy,

Tit. We are Romans

Not slaves

Bru. Not slaves? Why, what art thou?
Tit. Thy son.

Dost thou not know me?

Bru. You abuse my folly.

I know thee not.-Wert thou my son, ye gods,
Thou wouldst tear off this sycophantic robe,
Tuck up thy tunic, trim these curléd locks
To the short warrior-cut, vault on thy steed;
Then, scouring through the city, call to arms,
And shout for liberty!

Tit. [Starts.] Defend me, gods!
Bru. Ha! does it stagger thee?
Tit. For liberty?

Saidst thou for liberty ?-It cannot be.

Bru. Indeed!-'tis well-no more.

Tit. What would my father?

Bru. Begone! you trouble me.

Tit. Nay, do not scorn me.

Bru. Said I for liberty? I said it not:

The awful word, breathed in a coward's ear,

Were sacrilege to utter. Hence, begone!

[Crosses, R.

Said I, you were my son ?-'Tis false: I'm foolish ;
My brain is weak, and wanders; you abuse it.

Tit. Ah, do not leave me; not in anger leave me.
Bru. Anger? What's that? I am content with folly:
[Music heard.

Anger is madness, and above my aim !

Hark! here is music for thee,-food for love,

And beauty to serve in the rich repast.

arquinia comes. Go, worship the bright sun,
and let poor Brutus wither in the shade.
Tit. Oh, truly said! bright as the golden sun
arquinia's beauty beams, and I adore!

[Exit, R.

[Soft music.

TARQUINIA enters, R. U. E., preceded by Damsels bearing a Crown of Gold, some with Censors, &c., proper for the ceremonials of a dedication to Fortune.

What dedication, or what holy service,
Doth the fair client of the gods provide?
In the celestial synod is there one
Who will not listen to Tarquinia's prayer?

Tar. I go to Fortune's temple, to suspend
Upon the votive shrine this golden crown.
While incense fills the fane, and holy hymns
Are chaunted for my brother's safe return,
What shall I ask for Titus?

Tit. Though the goddess,

In her blind bounty, should unthrone the world,
To build me one vast empire, my ambition,
If by thy love unblest, would slight the gift:
Therefore of Fortune I have naught to ask :-
She hath no interest in Tarquinia's heart-
Nature, not Fortune, must befriend me there.

Tar. Thy gentle manners, Titus, have endeared thee, Although a subject Roman, to Tarquinia.

My brother Sextus wears thee next his heart;
The queen herself, of all our courtly youth,
First in her favour holds the noble Titus ;
And though my royal father well may keep
A jealous eye upon thy Junian race,—
A race unfriendly to the name of king,—
Yet thee he cherishes; with generous joy
The monarch sees thy early virtue shoot,
And with a parent's fondness rears its growth.
Tit. Oh neither name, nor nature, nor the voice
Of
my lost father, could he wake to reason,
Not all the wrongs that tyranny could pile
On
my afflicted head,-not all the praise

That patriot gratitude could shower upon me,
Can shake the faithful purpose of my soul,
To sever it from love and my Tarquinia.

Tar. Approve that firmness in the shock of trial, And if my love can recompense thy virtue, Nor tortures, nor temptations, nor the wreck Of Rome and empire, shall divide me from thee. To this I pledge my hand. Now to the temple! [Exeunt omnes.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The Tent of Sextus in the Camp before Ardea. A magnificent Banquet.

SEXTUS, R., COLLATINUS, R. c., CLAUDIUS, L. c., and ARUNS, L., discovered, drinking.

Sex. Come, then, here's to the fairest nymph in Italy. And she's in Rome.

Aruns. Here's to the fairest nymph in Italy;

And she is not in Rome.

Sex. Where is she, then?

Aruns. Ask Collatine; he'll swear she's at Collatia.

Sex. His wife!

Aruns. Even so.

[They rise and come forward

Claud. Is it so, Collatine?

Well, 'tis praiseworthy, in this vicious age,
To see a young man true to his own spouse.
Oh, 'tis a vicious age! When I behold
One who is bold enough to steer against
The wind of tide and custom, I behold him
With veneration; 'tis a vicious age!

Col. Laugh on, though I'm the subject! If to love My wife's ridiculous, I'll join the laugh;

Though I'll not say if I laugh at or with you!

Aruns. [Ironically.] The conscious wood was witness to his sighs,

The conscious Dryads wiped their watery eyes,
For they beheld the wight forlorn, to-day,

And so did I;-but I shall not betray.

Here now he is, however, thanks to me

That is, his semblance, for his soul dwells hence.

ow was it when you parted? [Mimicking.] She—' my

'love,

Fear not, good sooth, I'll very constant prove.'

Te :

-And so will I,-for whereso'er I steer, 'Tis but my mortal clay; my soul is here.' [All laugh. Sex. And pr'ythee, Collatine, in what array Did the god Hymen come to thee? How dressed, And how equipped? I fear me much, he left His torch behind, so that thou couldst not see A fault in thy beloved; or was the blaze So burning bright, that thy bedazzled eyes Have since refused their office?

Col. And doth Sextus

Judge by his own experience, then, of others?
To him, I make no doubt, hath Hymen's torch
Discovered faults enough! what pity 'twas
He had not likewise brought i' th' other hand,
A mirror, where the prince might read himself.
Sex. I like thee now: thou'rt gay, and I'll be grave.
As to those dear, delicious creatures, women,
Hear what my own experience has taught me :-
I've found 'em fickle, artful, amorous,

ever

Fruitful in schemes to please their changeful fancies,
And fruitful in resources when discovered.
They love unceasingly-they never change-
Oh, never!-no!-excepting in the object!
Love of new faces is their first great passion;
Then love of riches, grandeur, and attention!
Knowing all this, I seek not constancy,
But, to anticipate their wishes, rove,
Humour their darling passion, and am blessed!
Col. This is the common cant-the stale,
gross,
Unmeaning jargon, of all those, who, conscious
Of their own littleness of soul, avoid
With timid eye the face of modest virtue;
Who, mingling only with the base, and flushed
With triumphs over those they dare attack,
The weak, the forward, or depraved, declare
(And fain would make their shallow notions current,)
That womankind are all alike, and hoot

At virtue, whereso'er she passes by them.
I have seen sparks like these-and I have seen

idle,

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