For the dull ass will kick against his striker,
If struck too harshly.

Tul. Let me hear no more;

There's mischief in his folly. Send him hence.

[BRUTUS going L. But stay-I'll search him farther.-Hark thee, Brutus, Thou wast at Delphi, with our sons the princesTell me what questions put they to Apollo?

Br. Your sons did ask who should be chief in Rome. Tul. Hah! What replied the oracle to that?

Br. With pains and strugglings the prophetic dame This destiny reported from her god

"Great and most glorious shall that Roman be, "Who first shall greet his mother with a kiss." Tul. That is fulfill'd by Sextus.

Hor. Ay, he straight

Hasten'd from thence and kissed the queen his mother. Br. Woe for me, I have no mother!

And yet I kiss'd her first.

Tul. Thou kiss'd her?

Thou?

Br. Yea, madam; for just then my foot did slip In the fresh blood of a new-slaughter'd victim,

And, falling, I did kiss my mother-earth.

Tul. Oh, that the earth had swallow'd thee outright Till thou hadst kiss'd the centre! I perceive, The gods are leagued with folly to destroy us. My very blood chills at my heart.-Away.

[Exit TULLIA, with Guards und LADIES, rapidly,
R. and E.

Hor. Hark thee, thou Brutus; I in part suspect
Thou ap'st this folly; if I find thee trifling
Or juggling with the Pythia for predictions,
By all the gods I'll have thee flay'd, thy skin
Striped into thongs, to strangle thee withal,
Dissembling varlet!-

[Crosses to R. and strikes BRUTUS, who seizes kim. Val. Shame, my lord! forbear!

Threat'ning a fool, you do but wrong yourself.

Hor. But that the princes love his son, brave Titus, My dagger should have pierced his throat ere now And sent him to his mother earth for ever!

He shall be watch'd.-Come, come with me, Valerius.

[Exit HORATIUS. L. U. E.

Val. The gods restore thee, Brutus, to thyself, And us to thee!

Br. (alone) A little longer,

[Exit VALERIUS, 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.-Hah!-'tis my son-
Down, rebel nature, down!—

Enter TITUS, R.

Tit. Welcome to Rome !

Would I might welcome thee to reason, too!
Br. Give me thy hand-nay, give it me
Tit. What wouldst thou?

Speak to thy son.

Br. 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?

Br. Preferment.

Thou canst do much at court.

Tit. Ah, this is nothing!

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

And a court promise.

Tit. Oh, this trifling racks me.

Br. Lend me thine year: 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.

Br. 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?

Ti. Oh, my lamented father,

Would the kind gods restore thee to thy reason

Br. 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.

Ti. We are Romans

Not slaves

Br. Not slaves? Why, what art thou?
Ti. Thy son.

Dost thou not know me?

Br. You abuse my folly.

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

Ti. [Starts.] Defend me, gods!
Br. Hah! does it stagger thee?
Ti. For liberty?

Saidst thou for liberty ?-It cannot be.
Br. Indeed!-'tis well-no more.

Ti. What would my father?
Br. Begone! you trouble me.
Ti. Nay, do not scorn me.

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

[Crosses to R.

The awful word breathed in a coward's ear,

Were sacrilege to utter. Hence, begone!

Said I, you were my son ?-'Tis false: I'm foolish;
My brain is weak and wanders; you abuse it.
Ti. Ah, do not leave me; not in anger leave me.
Br. Anger? What's that? I am content with folly;
Anger is madness, and above my aim!

[Music heard

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

And beauty to serve in the rich repast.

Tarquinia comes. Go, worship the bright sun,
And let poor Brutus wither in the shade. [Exit BRUTUS R.
Ti. Oh, truly said! bright as the golden sun
'Tarquinia's beauty beams, and I adore!

[Soft music. TARQUINIA enters, R. U. E. preceded
by damsels bearing a crown of gold, some with
censers, &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 ?

Ti. 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 nought to ask—
She hath no interest in Tarquinia's heart,
Nature, not Fortune, ist befriend me there.

Tar. Thy gentle manners, Titus, have endear'd 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 hy 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.

Ti. 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 iny Tarquinia.

Tar. Approve that firmness in the shock of trials,
And if my love can recompense thy virtue,
Nor tortures, nor temptatious, 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. ČOLLATINUS, 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.

Ar. Here's to the fairest nympa in Italy; And she is not in Rome.

Sex. Where is she then?

Ar. Ask Collatine; he'll swear she's at Collatia.
Sex. His wife !

Ar. Even so.

C. Is it so, Collatine?

[Rise and come down.

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 agains
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!

Ar. (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.

How was it when you parted? [mimicking] She—“my

love,

"Fear not, good sooth, I'll very constant prove."
He:-" And so will I,-for wheresoe'er I steer,
""Tis but my mortal clay; my soul is here." [All laugh.
Sex. And prythee, Collatine, in what array

Did the god Hymen come to thee! How dress'd,
And how equipp'd? I fear me much, he left
His torch behind, so that thou could'st 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
Discover'd 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 ever found 'em fickle, artful, amorous,
Fruitful in schemes to please their changeful fancies,