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Lo! I ohey! This is the test of love :
This is the sacrifice :-) part to save thee!

[Officers advance. Tit. See, I am warned. Farewell, my life's last joy! When my eyes

lose thy image, they may look On death without dismay. To those blessed powers Who gave

thee every virtue, every grace That can ensure perfection, I commit thee.

[They embrace, and are torn asunder. Titus is car

ried off by the Lictors, L., and Tarquinia faints

and is borne off by the Centurion and Guards, R. SCENE II.—Rome.-An Apartment in the House of Brutus

Enter BRUTUS, R. Bru. [Alone.] Like a lost, guilty wretch, I look around And start at every footstep, lest it bring The fatal news of my poor son’s conviction !Oh, Rome, thou little know'st-No more-It comes.

Val. My friend, the Senate have to thee transferred
The right of judgment on thy son's offence.

Bru. To me !
Val. To thee alone.
Bru. What of the rest ?

Val. Their sentence is already passed.
E’en now, perhaps, the lictor's dreaded hand
Cuts off their forfeit lives.

Bru. Say'st thou, that the Senate have to me referred The fate of Titus ?

Val. Such is their sovereign will.
They think you merit this distinguished honour,
A father's grief deserves to be revered :
Rome will

Bru. And is his guilt established beyond doubt?
Val. Too clearly.

Bru. [With a burst of tears.] Oh, ye gods ! ye gode ! (Collecting himself.) Valerius !

Val. What would'st thou, noble Roman?
Bru. 'Tis said thou hast pulled down thine house, Va

The stately pile that with such cost was roared

whatever you

Val. I have; but what doth Brutus then infer?
Bru. It was a goodly structure: I remember
How fondly you surveyed its rising grandeur.-
With what a—fatherly-delight you summoned


ornament, that might enrich The-child-of

your creation,-till it swelled
To an imperial size, and overpeered
The petty citizens, that humbly dwelt
Under its lofty walls, in huts and hovels,
Like emmets at the foot of tow’ring Ætna:
Then, noble Roman, then with patriot zeal,
Dear as it was, and valued, you condemned
And levelled the proud pile; and, in return,
Were by your grateful countrymen sirnamed,
And shall to all posterity descend, -

Val. Yes, Brutus, I conceive
The awful aim and drift of thy discourse
But I conjure thee, pause! Thou art a father.

Bru. I am a Roman consul !—What, my friend,
Shall no one but Valerius love his

Dearer than house, or property, or children ?
Now, follow me;-and, in the face of Heaven,
I'll mount the judgment-seat: there, see if Brutus
Feel not for Rome as warmly as Poplicola. (Exeunt, B
SCENE III.--Ecterior of the Temple of Mars.-Senators,

Citizens, COLLATINUS, and Lucretius, discovered. At
L. of Stage, a Tribunal, with a Consular Chair upon

it. Brutus enters, R., followed by VALERIUShe bows as he

passes, and ascends the Tribunal. Bru. Romans, the blood which hath been shed this day Hath been shed wisely. Traitors, who conspire Against mature societies, may urge Their acts as bold and daring; and though villairs, Yet they are manly villains-But to stab The cradled innocent, as these have done,To strike their country in the mother-pangs Of struggling child-birth, and direct the dagger To freedom's infant throat,-is a deed so black,


foiled tongue refuses it a name.

(A pause.
There is one criminal still left for udgment-
Let him approach.
Tirus is brought in by the Lictors, R., with their axes

turned edgeways towards him. Pris-on-er-{The voice of Brutus falters, and is chok

ed, and he exclaims, with violent emotion.
Romans, forgive this agony of grief,
My heart is bursting-Nature must have way—
I will perform all that a Roman should-
I cannot feel less than a father ought !

[He becomes more calm. Gives a signal to the Iictors

to fall back, and advances from the Judgment-Seat

to the front of the Stage, on a line with his son.
Well, Titus, speak—how is it with thee now?
Tell me, my son, art thou prepared to die ?

Tit. Father, I call the powers of heaven to witness
Titus dares die, if so you have decreed.
The gods will have it so ?

Bru. They will, my Titus:
Nor heav'n, nor earth, can have it otherwise.
It seems as if thy fate were pre-ordained
To fix the reeling spirits of the people,
And settle the loose liberty of Rome.
'Tis fixed;—oh, therefore, let not fancy cheat thee:
So fixed thy death, that 'tis not in the power
Of mortal man to save thee from the axe.
Tit. The axe !-Oh, heaven !-Then must I fall so

basely? What, shall I perish like a common felon?

Bru. How else do traitors suffer?-Nay, Titus, morom I must myself ascend yon sad tribunalAnd there behold thee meet this shame of death, With all thy hopes, and all thy youth upon thee.See thy head taken by the common axe,-All,—if the gods can hold me to my purpose, Without one groan, without one pitying tear.

[Turns up, as if in agony, Tit. Die like a felon ?-Ha! a common felon! But I deserve it all :-yet here I fail :This ignominy quite unmans me!

you make

my heart



Oh, Brutus, Brutus! Must I call you father, [Kneels.
Yet have no token of your tenderness,
No sign of mercy ? Not even leave to fall
As noble Romans fall, by my own sword?
Father, why should

suspect That all your late compassion was dissembled? How can I think that


did love ? Bru. Think that I love thee by my present passion, By these unmanly tears, these earthquakes here, These sighs that strain the very strings of life, Let these convince


that no other cause Could force a father thus to wrong his nature. Tit. On, hold, thou violated majesty :

[Rises. I now submit with calmness to my fate. Come forth, ye executioners of justiceCome, take my life,--and give it to my country!

Bru. Embrace thy wretched father. May the gods
Arm thee with patience in this awful hour.
The sovereign magistrate of injured Rome
A crime, thy father's bleeding heart forgives.
Go-meet thy death with a more manly courage
Than grief now suffers me to show in parting;
And, while she punishes, let Rome admire theu !
Farewell! Eternally farewell!

Tit. Oh, Brutus! Oh, my father ! -
Bru. What would'st thou say, my son ?

Tit. Wilt thou forgive me ?
When I shall be no more, forget not my Tarquinia.

Bru. Leave her to my care.
Tit. Farewell, forever!
Bru. Forever!

(Re-ascends the Pribunas Lictors, attend !-conduct your pris'ner forth ! Val. (Rapidly and anxiously. Whither?

All the characters bend forward in great anxiety. Bru. To death !—[All start.] When you do reach the

spot, My hand shall wave your signal for the act, Then let the trumpet's sound proclaim it done !

[ Titus is conducted out by the Lictors, R-A dead

march,—which gradually dies away as it becomes more distant. Brutus remains seated in a melancholy posture on the Tribunal.

Por youth! Thy pilgrimage is at an end !
A few sad steps have brought thee to the brink
Of that tremendous precipice, whose depth
No thought of man can fathom. Justice now
Demands her victim ! A little moment,
And I am childless.-One effort, and 'tis past !-

[He rises and waves his hand, convulsed with agitation,

then drops in his seat, and shrouds his face with his toga. Three sounds of the trumpet are heard instantly. All the characters assume attitudes of deep misery.Brutus starts up wildly, descends to the front in extreme agitation, looks out on the side by which Titus departed, for an instant, then, with an

hysterical burst, erclaims, Justice is satisfied, and Rome is free !

(Brutus falls. The characters group around him.



The following Scene in the Third Act was omitted after

the first representation, in compliance with the wishes of many who thought it injurious to the general effect of the Play. As, however, there was some difference of opinion upon this point, the Scene is here inserted as it originally stood. Lucretia is supposed to be surrounded by her relations,—COLLATINUS and Lucretius by her side, her hair dishevelled, wild in her attire, and all the other characters in attitudes of deep grief. Luc. Bear witness, then, Lucretia's mind is guiltless Yet never can Lucretia smile again! Lost to herself, her husband, and her child, Lost to the world, her country, and her friends, The arms of love can pillow her no more, And the sweet smile of her dear innocent babe Would but awaken her to deeper anguish ! And shall she live, bereft of all life's treasures, The spectre of the past forever rising

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