Conspiracy, a tragedy. By R. Jephson, Esq

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PROLOGUE.

- PROLOGUE.

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- ACT I.

- ACT II.

- ACT III.

- ACT IV.

- ACT V.

- EPILOGUE.

CONSPIRACY, A TRAGEDY.

FINIS.

CONSPIRACY, A TRAGEDY.

BY R. JEPHSON, ESQ.

DUBLIN: PRINTED BY GRAISBERRY & CAMPBELL, FOR JOHN ARCHER, No. 80, DAME-STREET.

1796.

PROLOGUE.

THIS night with dread unusual we appear,

(For this has been a very damning year)

Establish'd fame perhaps in vain we bring,

Since rigid justice is an awful thing,

Awful and hateful, human but in part,

All frown, an outside man, without a heart.

Such you may see in every street you pass,

Just as like men, in plaister, stone, or brass.

Our early Prologues in less cautious times,

Rail'd at the audience in permitted rhymes,

Faults there might be, they own'd, but then wou'd swear,

Of faults or beauties, you no judges were.

As peers, by brother peers alone are tried,

Poets alone, on poets shou'd decide.

With surly Ben this dogma first began,

So in succession to pert Colley ran.

John Dryden, with a crab stick of harsh wit,

Rejoiced to drub the Hydra of the pit.

Tho' little then was right, and much amiss,

Not one of all the venom'd tongues durst hiss.

On the tamed spirit of the cudgel'd town,

Almanzor and mad Maximin went down.

Now, by inversion ten times more polite,

The poet's always wrong, the critic right.

Nay, some have found a more enlighten'd way,

And boldly censure who ne'er saw the play.

This mayn't perhaps be justice to the letter,

To see is well, but inspiration's better.

Of old, the vehicles of wit were scarce,

Men judged upon the spot of play or farce.

By no concocted spite the piece was torn,

The short lived Virus died where it was born.

No daily column then was gladly seen,

By envy raised, and scribled o'er by spleen.

And sure if pleas'd or griev'd, we little gain,

By reasoning back the pleasure or the pain.

Still safely we may trust the feeling part,

But never set the head against the heart.

For various causes you frequent the scene,

Some to dispel, but more to indulge the spleen.

Some fly a dun, and some a railing wise,

And lose the real, in fictitious life.

A passive mistress many here pursue,

But most we see have nothing else to do.

Others prefer, the days dull business done,

To yawn in company than quite alone.

Good harmless souls! may no rude sounds molest 'em

Nor passions, feign'd or real e'er infest 'em!

In times not long gone by, a noble peer,

(Unlike the sprightly race who now trip here)

Four previous footmen his high state express,

And gorgeous as a satrap was his dress.

No household fowl on maple perch repos'd,

As innocent of thought, more sweetly dozed.

Warm in his muff, with periwig for cap,

Here he indulged one discontinuous nap.

Yates, Woodward, Cibber, Garrick charm'd in vain,

Kind Morpheus held him in his softer chain.

Just as the curtain drop'd, he heard it said,

A well known slentor of the stage was dead.

"I'm glad on't (cries my lord) and why do you think?

"He roar'd so loud, I cou'd not sleep one wink."

This night at times may kinder slumbers seize you,

Sleep when we're dull, and wake when we can please you.

PROLOGUE.

THO' he pretends no commerce with the skies,

A perfect stranger to deep mysteries,

Nor is astrologer enough to make

Predictions for a new year's Almanack,

Yet for his play, the poet sees with sorrow,

And now foretells, what all may see to-morrow.

Tho' here, where genuine sense with candour reigns

Fair approbation crown his tragic strains,

(For oft this favour'd muse has been before you,

Always to thank, but never to implore you)

A hundred sterner critics still remain,

To damn his labours, and your taste arraign.

In posts, gazettes, and chronicles they rage,

And failing to adorn, affright the stage.

Turn to the usual column, there you'll see,

What those sage Delphic oracles decree.

First for the fable; "that's a flimzy tale,

"With unsupported characters, dull, stale,

"Not one generic, or original.

"The situations want dramatic art,

"Such feeble patho's ne'er can touch the heart.

"Next plainly does the plagiary appear,

"This, Ha! is Richard, and that Oh! is Lear,

The Pshaws, and Tuts are Shakspeare, Shakspeare clear.

Yet why this rage to damn? the thief on shore

Who eyes the labouring bark, when tempests roar,

And prays, that rocks the vessel's ribs may break,

Means his own gain in plundering the wreck.

But tho' a thousand foundering poets split,

None thrive, and some must lose by shipwreck'd wit.

Who steals your fame, as Shakspeare said of yore,

Enriches not himself but makes you poor.

The Tartar, when his comely foe lies slain,

Hopes with his spoils, his qualities to gain.

Cou'd critics every excellence destroy,

They nought inherit, but the barbarous joy.

Then of all censors, none are so severe

As those, whose scenes have been exploded here.

Self rais'd to the tribunal seat of letters,

As rogues made justices, they try their betters.

Unlike the Carthage queen, the ills they bore

But indurate their callous bosoms more.

Shou'd some pert teacher, his own worth to enhance

Decry all rival brothers of the dance,

Swear, one was aukward, t'other's manner coarse,

Another hobbled like a founder'd horse,

Say wou'd you not the envious railer blame,

When once you knew, Coupee himself was lame?

Some merry idlers to the pen resort,

And free from malice, write at us in sport,

Like the poor pelted frogs we cry out thus,

"Alas 'tis play to you, but death to us."

Yet shou'd some genuine critic point a fault,

Our author's not too forward to be taught,

To sage good counsel thankful he'll attend,

And think who spares him least, is most his friend.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Men.

- TITUS VESPASIAN, Emperor of Rome.

- SEXTUS, young Patricians.

- ANNIUS, young Patricians.

- PUBLIUS, Captain of the Praetorian guards.

- LENTULUS, a Conspirator.

Women.

- VITELLIA, daughter of the Emperor Vitellius.

- CORNELIA, sister of Sextus.

- ZANTHIA, a slave attending Vitellia.

Deputies, Guards, Lictors, &c.

SCENE, ROME.

—duri magno sed amore dolores

Polluto, notumque surens quid saemina possit.

VIRGIL, v. E.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Apartments of VITELLIA.—VITELLIA, SEXTUS.

Vitellia.

THOU dost but mock me. Must I hear for ever

How great thy preparations, while I know

How poor the deeds that follow. What avails it

That thy deep practices with Lentulus

Inflamed his ardor; that the fuel's laid

To wrap the towering capitol in fire;

(The appointed signal to begin the assault

On the unguarded Titus) that our friends

On the right arm display a Tyrian scarf,

Amidst the blaze and tumult to distinguish

The abettors of our boldness,—this dull tale

With nauseous iteration ten times boasted

Indignant I have heard. Still my revenge

Preys on itself, the tyrant lives to scorn me,

Lives to usurp a throne by right Vitellia's,

Nay worse, to brave me by a public act

That gives my sceptre, and his worthless hand

To Syrian Berenice.

Sextus.

Worthless hand!

Then wherefore anxious how he give that hand?

Why shou'd you wish it offer'd?

Vitellia.

To reject it.

What can I plead for thee? My own just rage

That burns unceasing in this boiling breast,

At times seems heighten'd by thy fiercer flame.

What will not Sextus dare at parting from me;

Allegiance, danger, friendship, melt before me.

But when I fly with ready recompence,

I find the promis'd service unperform'd,

Some haggar'd fear arrests thy trembling arm,

Phantoms, and doubts, and conscience shiver thee.

How can I reconcile such contraries,

Such ardor with such coldness?

Sextus.

I as well

Might bid the rapid whirlwind give me audience,

For while intemperate choler—

Vitellia.

Now I'm calm,

Now to thy casuistry—if words have power

To reconcile a lover's faith and honour

With expectations, rais'd but to be crush'd,

With oaths dissolv'd, even like the breath that form'd them,

Thou art a rhetorician subtler far

Than he of Greece, or our own smooth-tongued Tully.

Sextus.

I know no art, nor does this cause require it.

If 'tis a crime to be irresolute,

Where duty, honour, gratitude combine

To bid me not resolve; I own the charge,

Nay ought (whate'er the forfeit) glory in it.

Cou'd I at once determine on this deed,

Did no compunctious harrowings within

Print deep the prohibition on my soul:

I were a monster, madam, not a Roman.

Vitellia.

A Roman! no, give o'er that empty boast;

Shame of the unworthy.—Oaths are bonds with Romans,

Even at the altar of eternal Truth,

The holy fane clasp'd by thy outstretch'd arms

I bound thee by such sacred ceremonies,

(When first I listen'd to thy well-feign'd passion)

Ne'er to divulge what to thy faith I trusted,

And next, tho' Stygian horrors compass'd it

To join my vengeance; now to hear this sound,

This windy vaunt "that Sextus is a Roman."

Sextus.

Whatever be my country, or my nature,

One character I wear indelible,

Thy fond, thy faithful lover. Oh Vitellia!

The wavering of my soul too strongly proves

How fierce the storm that shakes me. Yet alas!

Like the tall pine when Caurus takes his top,

While the sharp axe indents his trunk beneath,

I struggle, but to fall. Say is it little,

I can even think to perpetrate a crime

To late posterity must damn my fame,

Blanch the dark records of past villainy,

And make the name of Caesar's treacherous friend

Stand single in th' abhor'd pre-eminence!

Vitellia.

Then be the friend of Caesar, from this hour

No more Vitellia's lover.

Sextus.

Ever, ever.

My fruitless turmoil in the fatal snare

But winds it closer round me. Urged by thee

Treason seems justice, dark assassination

Wears the bright robe of honourable vengeance.

I know the infatuation of my soul,

There is no crime of deepest ebon dye

My prompt obedience would not perpetrate.

By thee arraign'd this gracious emperor

Seems to deserve the bloodiest tyrant's doom,

But oh when I approach his matchless virtues,

My fury turns to reverence, awe, and wonder.

Vitellia.

Brave when the danger's distant—what more common?

The courage of our peasants.—But go on.

Sextus.

Unjust Vitellia! think ere you condemn

A heart so torn as mine—you steel my arm

To wreak your dire revenge, the emperor

Demands my loyalty. Thy offer'd hand

Impels on one side, every tye of honour

Binds me to Titus. All my love, is thine,

My duty, his. To thee when I return,

Some new discover'd beauty fires my sense,

While in the soul of Titus I admire

Some freshly blooming virtue. Scorned by thee

Life were a burden, yet to pay this price

Seals me a wretch for ever. Powers of justice!

Can she hear this, and yet reproach her Sextus?

Vitellia.

Assure thyself of no reproach from me.

Scorn and contempt are silent monitors.

Sextus.

Yet think ere one irrevocable stroke

Deprive the world of its first ornament,

Rome of a father, Nature of a friend.

Revolve the heroic spirits of times past,

See him unparallel'd.

Vitellia.

He has some virtues,

But men like monsters only are without them.

Nero reign'd five years wisely.—But my father!

Was there an insult to sink degradation

From Pride's high pinnacle to ignominy,

Unpractised on their emperor? Hooted, drag'd,

(The dagger at his throat) by dungeon slaves

O'er their polluted pavements. O just Ate

Appease his manes with luxuriant slaughter!

Sextus.

What justice can involve him in the charge?

He not contrived, nor countenanced the outrage.

Vitellia.

No, but he profits by it. That condemns him.

Sextus.

I know him form'd with every excellence,

Brave, pious, merciful, benevolent.

Would he reward desert, his coffers seem

Poor to his boundless liberality.

Is he constrain'd to punish, his sweet nature

Finds some soft palliative for every wretch,

Green inexperience pleads the excuse for one,

Grey hairs absolves another. Every day

That passes o'er his head unmark'd by bounty

He calls a blank in life, and strikes it off

As worthless to be number'd.

Vitellia.

Grant it all.

Yet still he reigns.—

Sextus.

He reigns 'tis true, Vitellia!

But all the cares of royalty are his,

And all the blessings ours—the laurel wreath,

The Imperial purple.—

Vitellia.

Hear, majestic Juno!

And dost thou come with pomp of sounding words

The herald of my foe, to trumpet forth

His irksome virtues? sure thou hast forgot

This boasted pageant wears the diadem

His father tore from mine. Say shou'd he not,

(Had he a monarch's sense of royal justice)

Have shar'd that diadem his father ravish'd

With her who rightly own'd it?

Sextus.

Ah Vitellia!

Is this the proof of hate? the vizor falls,

In vain its outside varnish wou'd display

The father's wrongs, the daughter's piety,

Reveal'd beneath the genuine face displays

The burning flush of angry jealousy.—

Vitellia.

Jealousy!

Sextus.

Alas! too plain.

Vitellia.

How, jealousy!

Sextus.

And must this desperate hand.—

Vitellia.

I'll hear no more.

Here I absolve thee from thy worthless vows,

Thus give them to the winds. Soon shall I find

A braver arm to vindicate my cause.

Sextus.

I cannot bear these frowns.

Vitellia.

Away, unhand me,

Let Titus bleed, and call Vitellia thine.

To them, ANNIUS.

Annius.

Sextus! the emperor seeks thee.

Vitellia.

Quick, be gone.

'Tis strange he can afford a moment's leisure

To any but his lovely Berenice.

Annius.

Madam, he pays th' obedience he exacts.

Governing himself, he learns to rule the world.

Within this hour, by his especial order,

The unwilling queen departed.

Sextus.

How!

Vitellia.

What say'st thou?

Annius.

Present I saw the tender separation,

And scarce cou'd trust the fortitude I witness'd.

Vitellia.

My hopes revive. Aside.

Sextus.

O unexampled virtue!

Vitellia.

Wou'd I had seen it! with what extacy

Cou'd I have heard the proud forsaken wretch

Reproach her faithless lover.

Annius.

Tears alone

Were her upbraidings. Gently she withdrew,

Convinced the tender soul of Titus suffer'd

More than her own, by the constrain'd adieu.

Vitellia.

Her pride perhaps deceived her.

Annius.

No, 'twas plain

Conflict preceded conquest. But the senate,

And Rome's repeated wish.—

Vitellia.

The senate, Rome!

It is a kind of mockery to name them.

Did they not flatter Nero? Half the crimes

Of their mad emperors, Rome's slaves engender'd.

Her infancy was savage and unjust,

Polish'd depravity her riper age,

With every new refinement, some new guilt,

Even in her sports and pleasures barbarous.

But now, her rank maturity arrived,

She soaks and fattens in gross infamy.

If there were any righteous Jupiter,

His thunder would proclaim him. This vile city,

This stew of sordid vice and luxury,

Upturn'd from its foundations, rent and crush'd

Would smoke in frightful piles, a monument

That there were gods, and Rome provok'd their vengeance.

Apart to Vitellia.

Sextus.

The object of your hatred changes quickly,

'Twas Titus, now 'tis Rome. I see the cause

Of this so sudden mutability.

Vitellia.

You see with jaundiced eye. But mark me Sextus!

Still apart.

'Twere most unwise to prosecute our vengeance,

Till the fresh gloss of this late specious act

Fades in the public eye—you look mistrust.

My will you have heard—obey me or resign me.

Exit Vitellia.

Remain ANNIUS and SEXTUS.

Annius.

Why droops my friend! Why o'er thy labouring brow,

Rides that black tempest, while beneath, thine eye

Glares wildly to the centre?

Sextus.

Annius, Annius!

I am a wretch whom Jove's almighty arm

Cou'd scarce pluck from perdition. Let me warn thee,

Give not unbounded empire o'er thy soul,

To proud revengeful woman.

Annius.

Nay my friend!

Sink not beneath the scorn of that coy beauty.

Yet full orb'd charms like her's, tho' past the bud,

Strike deeper root in the young amorous heart

Than equal youth in its fresh primy bloom,

Than Hebe or Janthe's orient softness.

Sextus.

Their smiles are goddesses, but once inflamed,

All good perverted to its opposite,

Keen in the feeling of imagin'd wrongs,

They know no ties, all duties sink beneath them,

Virtue and vice are shades, to fade or glow,

As their outrageous passions give them colour.

Annius.

I view them Sextus in a brighter mirror,

A pure expanse unclouded and serene,

Thy lovely sister's charms. This day my friend,

(For fair Cornelia smiled her approbation,)

Knit close the ties of our dear amity,

And gain the emperor's consent to join us.

Sextus.

He has heap'd his favours on me, and I know Sighing deeply.

Unworthy as I am, will meet my wish

United thus to thine, with gracious ardor.

May the soft powers who smile on nuptial bliss

Lucina, Hymen, and the Idalian love,

Strew their unfading roses o'er your couch,

And from the brightness of your mutual joy

Send one kind gleam to warm this chearless breast,

Annius.

Nay, do not wound me with this deep dejection.

Had Fortune thus conspired to make thee happy

I swear I wou'd have hush'd my own complaints,

Nor let one inauspicious thought intrude

To cloud my gladness in a friend's contentment.

Farewell. I will precede thee to the emperor,

And wait impatient till you crown my wishes.

Sextus.

Anon I'll follow thee. Farewell one moment. Exit Annius.

SEXTUS, alone.

For see the fiery Lentulus appears.

Indignant of restraint, I know he comes,

With furious zeal to chide my cold delay,

And push me to destruction.

To him, LENTULUS.

Lent.

Well encounter'd,

All is disposed, why then this dull suspense,

Our eager friends like staunch hounds in the leash,

Pant for the welcome signal to be loos'd,

And snuff the destin'd quarry.

Sextus.

Are they then

So eager to embrue their ruthless fangs

In the rich blood of Titus, are they weary

(Unthinking fools) to their own happiness,

Blind to the blessings of his gentle reign,

To heaven ungrateful, do they wish to seat

A direr Nero in the imperial chair,

And bow the knee to the remorseless brother.

Lent.

Of that hereafter. No, they wish to avoid

The fate of poor Alienus and Marcellus,

Who with protracting councils like our own

Conspir'd against Vespasian, and gave time

For this his son's preventive vigilance

To turn the destin'd slaughter on themselves.

Sextus.

O righteous doom of black conspiracy,

Always abhor'd, and rarely fortunate.

The blood that issues from a monarch's wound

Ensanguines deep the sword which dares to shed it.

What gain'd the noblest of conspirers, Brutus

By Caesar's slaughter, but to fall himself

By the same steel and dying to prophane

Substantial virtue as an empty shadow?

Lent.

He made half work, he left a second Caesar.

But like ripe corn beneath the sharpen'd scythe.

Here the whole Flavian line shall down together.

Sextus.

O Rome, preposterous Rome! how many tyrants

Smear'd with the blood of your best citizens

Have in their palaces slept undisturb'd,

And sunk in peace to execrated graves,

While this great Paragon—

Lent.

For shame forbear.

These thoughts should have preceded, not crept after

Your bold concurrence in a perilous league.

Like the vile rabble in our warlike triumphs,

Disgracing the proud pomp they howling follow.

Where were these thoughts when thy young ardour found me

Brooding o'er mutter'd threats, and unshap'd mischief?

Thy forward zeal bad me despise complaint,

And Roman-like trust to my arm for vengeance.

Sextus.

Oh the more villain I, and every tongue

Like thine should lash me with the memory.

But you invert the charge. Black was the hour

That knowing thee I shun'd not—you received me,

While yet the embrio guilt but gasp'd within me,

With quick, preventive, keen malignity—

Lent.

And sav'd thy puny blushes. But no matter,

With pride I wear the wreath, pale fear casts from thee.

Be it thine to praise him Sextus, and betray:

Mine to avow my anger, and chastise:

In thee it may be guilt, in me 'tis justice.

Sextus.

The difference I doubt. 'Tis your's to explain it.

Lent.

When the world's wonder, Sion's haughty Temple,

Smok'd on the ground an undistinguish'd ruin,

Fast by his side I fought. There he beheld

How this good arm, scarce second to his own,

Dealt death among his foes; but when I ask'd

To rule the province, I had help'd to conquer,

He durst deny me—what the reason think you?

Because those outcasts of the peopled world,

The scum and scorn of nations, Jews, vile Jews,

Accused me of extortion in his absence.

Sextus.

Was that the cause? O god-like emperor!

How shall the breath of friendship raise thy name,

When hate itself brings wreaths to thy renown

And points its accusation from thy virtue.

Lent.

Thou pale cold medler in a manly danger

Go with thy palsied conscience, aspen traitor!

Fall at the tyrant's foot, reveal thy plot,

But cast the blame on me, or some brave Roman

Seduced by thy false tongue, and now betray'd.

Sextus.

Rail on—I have deserv'd it—

Lent.

Be a man,

And what you durst contrive, dare execute.

The dull are unsuspicious. This good emperor,

Whom our prone senate have already godded,

(For reptiles can make gods) is penetrable

By any gallant steel.

Sextus.

And know'st thou not,

That she who set thee on,—I blush to name her,

That beauteous mischief, wou'd suspend the blow.

Lent.

Be thou the floating feather of her whim,

Move or be still as her caprice ordains it.

I shall plow on with my broad canvass spread,

Too full to waver with a woman's breath.

Tho' she indeed deserves a firmer sex:

Woman in beauty, but a bold she falcon,

That masculinely soars on female pinions.

Our Clelias, Portias, Arrias rise in her.

Sextus.

And canst thou do this deed?

Lent.

And canst thou ask it?

I'm weary of this wrangling. Freeze thou here,

While I go send him to enjoy his godship.

His apotheosis on earth is little.

Above our heads, throned near immortal Jove,

With pity he'll look down on this dim earth,

And thank me for his passport to the skies.

Exit Lentulus.

SEXTUS, alone.

These are the bitter fruits of treachery,

This thing of malice I myself have hatch'd,

This viper of my treason, with foul breath

Casts back the venom he imbibed from me,

And stings while he obeys me. Shame and ruin!

I have step'd midway in the swelling tide,

While the loud torrent thunders from above.

Where'er I turn, grim horror sits array'd,

And shakes a dreadful dart. I dare not pass,

Nor can regain the shore. Avenging Jove!

Bare thy red arm, chuse out thy hottest bolt,

And headlong hurl me to the hell I merit.

Exit.

END OF FIRST ACT.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Temple of Jupiter. TITUS with Guards, Lictors, &c.—PUBLIUS with several Senators and the Deputies of the subject Provinces bringing the accustomed Tribute. SEXTUS and ANNIUS come forward from the opposite sides, among the rest LENTULUS.

Publius.

O FATHER of thy country! thus the senate

With general voice salute their emperor,

Nor ever did their awful rolls contain,

A vote more just, a title so deserv'd.

Annius.

O Titus! not alone thy country's father,

She deems thee more, her guardian deity.

As such decrees thee temples, and hereafter

Means as a god to invoke thy sacred name.

Publius.

This annual tribute of the subject states

To that great work she dedicates, and prays

Thy kind acceptance of the offer'd homage.

Lent.

Now the God speaks, and now for oracles, Aside

But thy celestial panoply shall yield

To one good stroke from this poor mortal arm.

Titus.

Hear me ye Romans! to deserve your love

Is the first wish that animates my breast,

Let not that love exceed its modest bounds

To stain the emperor's cheek and yours with blushes.

How wou'd the eternal movers of the world

Smile to behold my puny godhead shake

When the North's icy arrows search'd my breast,

Or, while my altars smoked with sacrifice,

(Shou'd fevers riot in my burning veins,)

To hear my prostrate deity implore

Some friendly hand to moisten my parch'd lip,

To extend a little Tiber in a cup,

And comfort immortality with water?

Annius.

Thus greatly to deserve, and greater still,

Decline the tribute of your subjects praise,

Casts deeper shame on their preposterous zeal

Who lavish'd on imperial Tyranny,

And monsters, miscall'd men, the praise of gods.

Titus.

I not reject the offerings of your love,

But wou'd apply them to a worthier purpose.

Vesuvius' late eruption has laid waste

(Tremendous visitation) the fair country.

(A prodigy reserv'd for this ill time

That loudly warns for some new expiation,)

The neighbouring cities lye one cumbrous mass

Of hideous ruin. Whom the fiery wave

Spared to destroy, pale Famine now devours.

This gold may bring relief to misery.

These be my temples, thus be Titus worship'd.

Publius.

Such temples are indeed more durable

Than pyramids whose proud tops pierce the sky,

No storm can shake them, nor no time destroy.

Their altars rise in every virtuous breast,

And their rich incense is the o'erflowing heart.

Titus.

Enough, enough—I would be private friends

Annius stay thou. Approach, come near my Sextus.

Exeunt Publius and others.

TITUS, SEXTUS, ANNIUS.

Annius.

Now Sextus warmly urge my dearest interest▪

Sextus.

Ah Sir! I dread to speak—your Berenice.—

Titus.

Oh spare me, spare me. 'Twas a painful struggle.

Rome and the emperor saw with different eyes,

Rome, that she was a stranger and a queen,

And I, her truth and beauty.

Sextus.

Yet she left you.

Titus.

Reluctantly alas, as I endured it.

The senate press'd me long to native nuptials,

I interposed as long with feign'd delays.

While one dear image, mistress of my soul,

In silent soft security reign'd there,

To dictate all which caution seem'd to utter.

Sextus.

'Twas most unjust and cruel so to urge you.

Titus.

The chambers next to these were once the queen's,

Nor eye nor foot but mine shall visit them

Since she forsakes them. There I'll give my soul

Its burst of anguish, there I'll hear her voice,

There her enchanting form shall smile before me

In all her soft luxuriancy of beauty.

The lute she touch'd, the flowers her needle painted

Now mute or scatter'd as she cast them from her,

Remind me of the dear delicious hours

When my enamour'd heart spoke out, and own'd her.

Thy master there will be no emperor.

Sextus.

Yet in the senate be an emperor.

The name of queen we know is alien to them,

(Such is the force of rooted prejudice,)

Tho' in the imperial title they endure

More subjugation than Rome's seven kings,

Had all been Tarquins, cou'd impose upon them,

They tremble at the shade, but hug the substance.

Titus.

I rule their will, but can't remove their error.

Fatal to my repose, or shade or substance.

A prey to cankerous regret within,

I strive against the feeling which consumes me,

My reason disesteems my heart's desire,

Condemns the choice, and yet adores the object.

Sextus.

Thus princes are but subjects to opinion.

Titus.

New importunity each hour assails me

To fix the sceptre in the Flavian line,

And with some daughter of Patrician blood

To share the imperial purple. Warm esteem

Since Rome will have me wived, with calmer fires

Must light the torch of Hymen. This my Sextus

Pleads for thy sister most, dear by that tie,

And in herself unrival'd.

Sextus.

How, my sister,

Cornelia Sir!

Titus.

Cornelia.

Annius.

Dire election! Aside.

Titus.

Thou Annius! bear my greetings to Cornelia.

The senate have my promise, ere the sun

Sunk in his western tent, their new Augusta

Shou'd be proclaim'd. So tell them of my choice.

My heart can form no new engagement Sextus!

To loose the bonds of friendship. Names alone

The emperor and the subject must not weaken

Strict amity like ours.

Sextus.

Oh Sir! consider.

An humbler lot will suit my sister's fortune,

Besides your bounties shower'd upon our house

Will fall in envious curses on my head,

And sink my name, but to exalt your error.

Titus.

Let Rome be envious, not thy prince unjust.

The friend adopted thus, holds not his place

By the light tenure of the popular breath,

But by my weigh'd selection.

Sextus.

'Tis too much.

Stop this profusion of unbounded goodness,

Unless you mean to swell the mighty debt

Beyond my power to thank you, lest you turn

The feelings of a heart, that knows its frailty,

To undeserving and ingratitude.

Titus.

I cannot taste a rough unsocial joy,

Nor trust me wou'd it stir my blood one jot,

Tho' at my nod the necks of Rome shou'd bow

Like willows to the wind. One good man's thanks,

The warm effusions of a soul obliged

To me are more than all the pageantry,

My heart partakes not, tho' my power commands.

Exeunt Titus and Sextus.

ANNIUS, alone.

Curs'd be my fortune, curs'd the medling senate,

That in the blindness of their busy zeal

Thus goad him to my ruin. Slavish drones!

That buzzing search their musty registers

To find some record of past turpitude,

A sanction for the meditated shame,

An earlier precedent of ignominy,

Then dawb their volume with some worse disgrace,

Some fouler stain of manhood's dignity,

And call the enrollment sacred.—Yet why curse them,

Hence from my breast this selfish vile alloy

Debasing genuine passion. Let her glory

Be now thy mistress. Bow to that my soul,

And worship her at distance. Yet 'tis hard,

To cast away affection like a garment,

To tame young blood by cold necessity,

And love! for thy untutor'd fervency,

To learn the icy lesson of respect.

But see she comes.—Oh never did my eyes

Behold her half so beauteous as this moment.

A dear thing lost thus puts forth all its value.

To him CORNELIA.

Cornelia.

My Annius!

Annius.

Soft Cornelia, 'tis a crime

To use endearments now.

Cornelia.

A crime! amazement!

Annius.

Yes a most dangerous crime, a new made crime,

A crime within this hour, no less than treason.

Know thou art destin'd to ascend the throne

Of Rome's great master.—Can I utter it!

Thou art his choice, the empress of Caesar.

And, would'st thou think it, he to me assign'd

The barbarous task as such to greet thee for him. Going.

Cornelia.

The empress of Caesar! which way, wherefore!

Annius.

Because my destiny but toil'd to plague me,

Because thy virtues, beauty were too bright

To bless these humble arms—farewell for ever.

I could but give a heart, and he the world.

Oh I shall grow disloyal if I gaze,

And curse the man, my duty bids me honour.

Exit Annius.

CORNELIA alone.

Me Caesar's empress! Can that name alone

Turn oaths to air, and melt the soul's affections,

And can the generous Titus.—No I wrong him.

He knows not our engagements. He's too good,

Too gentle, thus with tyrannous violence

Rudely to seize involuntary vows,

And force by power what's due alone to love.

Exit Cornelia.

SCENE—An Apartment in the Palace.

TITUS meeting PUBLIUS who holds a Paper.

Shouts heard.

Titus.

Whence this rude dissonance, whose barbarous roar

Shakes to the centre these tall battlements?

Publius.

Loud as a stormy sea the people rush

Promiscuous to the temples, and with shouts

Deaf'ning the sky, implore the gods to guard you.

Titus.

Such clamorous prayers are impiety.

They do instruct the gods, and not adore them.

There is more worship in one contrite sigh

Breath'd from the breast of humble penitence,

Than in whole hecatombs and clouds of incence.

If heaven will grant me length of days, 'tis well,

But the last blessing I should beg from heaven.

Publius.

'Tis the wan cast of transient melancholy,

A momentary shade that comes and passes,

Can make great Titus speak thus to his Romans.

Titus.

Survey man's little state thro' every age,

And tell me, wherefore shou'd we fear to change it?

When children all our wishes gape at manhood,

And that arriv'd, we sigh to recollect

The lively blossom of our greener years,

Swearing our school days were the happiest.

Then frowns Ambition's strife, and Disappointment,

Or Friendship's brow estranged, or luckless love,

Unbless'd thus in the past or present hour,

No centre fix'd for fleeting happiness,

Old age creeps joyless on, with envious step

Stealing us further from each sweet remembrance,

Till all that minister'd our brief delight,

Whether from pamper'd sense, or flattering hope,

Lies buried in that mouldering monument.

Is that for my inspection? The paper held by Publius.

Publius.

It contains,

The names of those rash citizens who dared

With calumny licentious to traduce

The fame of our great emperors before you.

Titus.

A barbarous register, which nought avails

To the departed, and administers

Unnumber'd wiles for treachery and fraud

To ensnare the living, so henceforth remember

(To pluck the root up of this dangerous evil)

The informer, not the accused shall meet my wrath.

Publius.

Yet Sir, it is but just.

Titus.

Were justice urged

To rigor's iron verge, the peopled earth

Would swarm with herds, not men. For who has found

In frail humanity the faultless monster?

Guilt steels itself, and hardens in society,

Besides, 'tis dangerous trust me to divulge

The world contains so little virtue, Publius!

Publius.

But Sir, there are, who with foul breath will dare

Even to traduce your name.

Titus.

Why let them, Publius!

If Levity give breath to foul discourse,

It matters not; if Folly, I lament it;

If men complain with reason, I shou'd thank them,

And profit by reproof. Does Malice blame me,

I know my innocence, and scorn the slander.

To them, CORNELIA.

My fair one, my elect! my lovely empress!

Cornelia.

Suspend a while that title. Hear me first.

A secret presses on this anxious breast

To you, and only you, I can discover.

Titus.

Publius farewell! now freely speak Cornelia!

Exit Publius.

Cornelia.

That you have deign'd from all the maids of Rome

To chuse Cornelia to partake your throne,

O emperor! I own the bright distinction.

Deem'd worthy of thy choice, my conscious soul

Rises in self esteem; this prompts my tongue

To trust thy goodness, to conceal no thought

Whose reservation might upbraid my weakness

With mean suspicion of thy matchless justice.

Titus.

Speak, freely speak!

Cornelia.

First, let me swear, there lives not,

Who more than I do, venerates thy name,

And owns thy wond'rous virtue. Yet my heart—

I fear to move your anger.—

Titus.

Pray go on.

Cornelia.

It is not mine to give. An early flame,

Felt ere I knew to name it, burn'd for Annius.

If so you will accept my hand,—'tis yours.

Titus.

Perish so base a thought! for once I see,

(Rare sight for kings) the visage of bright truth

Unmask'd and genuine. Thou hast nobly ventur'd,

Even when it might offend the emperor

To show her undisguis'd. My best Cornelia!

How much am I thy debtor. Cou'dst thou fear

I wou'd disturb your loves.

Cornelia.

[bursting into tears] I knew you wou'd not.

If lost in admiration of thy goodness,

My words but poorly thank you, O believe it;

Too big for speech my swelling gratitude

Beggars the weak expression of my tongue,

Most thankful, when most silent.

Titus.

Dear Cornelia!

Wou'dst thou indeed be grateful, teach to others

Sincerity like thine. Bid wholesome Truth,

(Coy visitant of courts) return secure.

Even in her homeliest garb she shall be welcome,

More welcome than the practised harlot smiles,

The ambush'd lie of guileful flattery.

Soft are her blandishments, the vizor fair,

But underneath,—oh how unlike the varnish!

Exit Titus.

To CORNELIA, VITELLIA.

Vitellia.

May I without offence presume to offer

My early homage to my sovereign?

May I adore that beauty, whose bright beams

Thus shine superior with unrival'd radiance,

And charm the soul of Titus. Roman ladies

Tho' paragons before, must humbly seek

Espousals in the senate, must submit

To match with praetors, or poor deputies,

And leave the only Caesar for Cornelia.

But one can be Augusta.

Cornelia.

Insolent! Aside.

But let her be deceiv'd. Such scorn deserves it.

Farewell Vitellia! Going.

Vitellia.

This disdain becomes you.

Once we at least were equal. Time has been,

Tho' now the giddy wheel's fantastic round

Has whirl'd thee highest, that Rome's proudest she,

Even Sextus' sister, even the elect of Titus,

Had statue-like stood still at my command,

And blush'd obedience to the emperor's daughter.

Cornelia.

Enraptured with the sense of boundless joy

My transports might seem insult—let me fly,

From that stern brow, where smiles and love await me.

Exit Cornelia.

VITELLIA, alone.

Must I endure it, bear with tame submission

This contumelious superiority?

With what disdain the haughty minion eyed me.

May their false Hymen wave Alecto's torch

To scatter discord, hate, and barrenness,

May furies yell around their nuptial couch,

And Jove's red lightning in the embrace consume them.

Yawn gaping hell, ingulf them from my sight,

To hide in Tartarus the bliss that blasts me.

Tremble ingrate! tremble at my rous'd fury,

Thy blood this very hour.—

To her, SEXTUS.

Sextus.

I joy to meet thee.

My sun but rises to renew that hope,

And his sloped beam that dims the shadowy world

Takes nothing but thy beauty from my sight,

To sadden his decline.—

Vitellia.

Is Rome on fire?

The capitol in ashes? Where is Lentulus?

Does Titus bleed, say is the tyrant dead?

Sextus.

Suspension of the deed you last commanded.

Vitellia.

The deed suspended! yet dar'st thou presume

Thus boldly to approach me, thus to greet me

As if secure thy presence wou'd be welcome?

Sextus.

I heard no revocation of the order.

Vitellia.

Hast thou not heard the insult of this hour,

Cruel, unparalleled, and dost thou wait

A signal less equivocal? Oh fool!

To take him for a lover, who thus poorly

Can know my wrongs, nor think they cry for vengeance.

Sextus.

Oh cou'd I find a single specious cause

To varnish o'er the act.—

Vitellia.

A single cause!

I'll give thee thousands. One for ev'ry impulse

That can excite a noble mind to daring.

Does freedom charm thee? tear away the shackles

That clank at the degraded senate's heels,

And rise the Brutus of these servile times.

Does bright ambition fire thee? open lies

The broad strait road to empire. All my train,

My friends, my title to the imperial rule,

All shall be thine. Say can my hand, my heart,

Crown thy desires, fly to the enterprise,

Let me behold thee crimson'd in the blood

Of this perfidious, to my arms I'll clasp thee

With fervor Juno like. Is't not enough,

Can'st thou still hesitate? know then till now

I lov'd this Titus—Still I may return,

(I dare not trust my heart) again to love him.

Now fly. If thou can'st poorly shrink, insensible

To all the charms of glory, empire, love,

If thou can'st bear a rival who disputes,

Usurps and violates Vitellia's heart,

Thou art the last, the meanest of mankind.

Sextus,

O thou hast found the way to rouse my fury.

Love and a rival both shall justify.

I feel thy rage infused. Yes thou shalt see

Yon stately pile, yon capitol in flames.

This sword shall blush with rich imperial blood.

My own runs back, and curdles at the thought.

Vitellia.

Doubt but a moment, and no more behold me.

Sextus.

Then vanish doubt. And may thy scorn repay me

And aggravate my shame, if I obey not.

Exit Sextus.

VITELLIA alone.

Yes Titus thou shalt feel me, feel too late

The power of this despised, rejected beauty.

Too late shalt thou repent—

To her, PUBLIUS.

Publius.

Princess your pardon.

My tidings will I hope excuse the intrusion,

For sure they should be welcome. Thro' the palace

The emperor seeks you, madam!

Vitellia.

Seeks me Publius!

Not so, not so.—Why should he seek Vitellia?

Publius.

Can it be possible you know not why?

To make you partner of his throne and greatness.

Vitellia.

What have I done, that thou shou'd'st dare to mock me?

Publius.

To mock you lady! by my life I swear

He bad me in his name salute you empress.

Vitellia.

Cornelia but this hour.—

Publius.

This too I know,

Cornelia has declined his offer'd hand.

His faith was pledg'd (and that's inviolable)

By solemn deputation to the senate,

This day to name his empress, and th' election

Lights worthily on you. Fear of Domitian,

His successor in power tho' not in virtue,

Shou'd our good Titus childless seek the skies,

With ghastly hue makes pale the senate's cheek,

Turns all the nectar of their bowls to gall,

And sickens worse than surfeits.

Vitellia.

Oh distraction!

Lose not a moment—fly, begone, and find him!

Publius.

Whom madam?

Vitellia.

Sextus. Oh thou loiterer!

Publius.

What message must I bear?

Vitellia.

Bid him return.

On all the wings of wind return, and meet me.

Be speedy Publius, to my chamber send him,

For more than life hangs on each precious moment.

Exeunt.

END OF SECOND ACT.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Palace.—LENTULUS with some PLEBEIANS.

Lentulus.

YOU know your stations. When the signal's rais'd

Conspicuous from my roof, a lofty standard

With crimson banners floating, fire the piles,

Beneath the capitol, then crowd the ways,

And bar all access to extinguish them.

Look well for me, I shall approach to lead you,

And give your thirsty swords their glut of slaughter.

Shout as I cry, and strike where I command you.

Be resolute, spare none, and earn your drachmas.

What humble virtue, when a drachma bribes it!

Exeunt. SEXTUS with a crimson Scarf on his Arm.

These fears are well, these secret horrors tell me

I am but half a villain. Every shadow,

Each passing breath that rides th' invisible air

Swells to a terrible form, and with shrill tongue

Appals me as I tread. Rash Lentulus

Speeds to the capitol. He but begins

The bloody business he rejoices in:

And happier so than I am. Cou'd I think,

That I shou'd live to envy Lentulus!

Then yet draw back thy foot. Can love require

A sacrifice of blood, and a friend's blood,

Murder, assassination? no Vitellia!

Thy rage, and not thy nature prompted thee.

Thy soul's a woman's and thy calmer thoughts

Will bless my disobedience. Then prevent it—

What do I see? the capitol on fire.

Already 'tis begun. My curs'd remorse,

May mourn too late, but not prevent his doom.

As he is rushing out, Annius meets him.

Annius.

Where dost thou rush? why this distemper'd haste,

What means this wild distraction in thy looks?

Sextus.

No questions now—my shame too soon will tell thee.

Rushes out.

ANNIUS alone.

What can this mean? "My shame too soon will tell thee."

Shame finds no harbour in a breast like thine,

The seat of truth and honour. Yet his eyes

Glared wildly, his cheek pale, his trembling palm

Cold as the grasp of death. Some strong convulsion

Too fierce for utterance or concealment shakes him.

Oh what a mournful change in his kind temper!

Gay as the ruddy morning which he met,

Or the rous'd lark, Hyperion's harbinger,

Obvious to all.—Now gloomy, sad, retired,

And shunning with mistrust even love that seeks him

Yet may the balm of friendship.—

To him, CORNELIA.

Cornelia.

O my Annius!

Wake ev'ry sense to joy and gratitude.

The antic fortune that with cruel sport,

But mocks us with the approach of happiness,

Weary at length gives o'er the unequal strife,

And baffled owns our stronger destiny.

Annius.

I know it all, thy matchless constancy,

And flew to glad thy brother with the tidings.

Cornelia.

Yet art thou cold to the transporting bliss,

Thy wandering eyes require some other object,

The pressure of thy hand but feebly holds me.

Nay now it bids me leave thee, bids my tongue

For other ears reserve the ungrateful tale,

Or wait thy better leisure to be welcome.

Annius.

I could for ever hear, for ever hold thee.

But now a dearer interest than my own,

Dearer than all but thee, must force me hence.

A little moment in the account of time,

But tedious hours in love's swift calendar,

Must I be absent from thee.

To them, PUBLIUS, with a Centurion.

Publius.

Noble Annius!

I grieve to find thee thus. At such a time!

The capitol on fire, all Rome alarmed,

Wild consternation stalking through the streets,

And dangers doubled by men's ignorance,

Thus unconcerned to shun the public care,

And loiter, while thy country claims thy service.

Annius.

Ha! then my friend's distraction when we parted Aside.

May have some fatal cause

Going.

Cornelia.

Stay, Annius stay!

Thou wilt not thus abandon me, exposed

Defenceless to the tumult?

Annius.

For a moment

Good Publius guard her! to thy care I trust

A dearer pledge than yon devouring flames,

Tho' Rome's seven hills smoak'd from their hot embrace,

And all their wealth was mine, could ravish from me.

Exit Annius.

Remain CORNELIA, PUBLIUS, and a Centurion.

Cornelia.

But tell me Publius whence this accident?

Publius.

So may it prove. Yet is there cause to fear,

'Twas not the work of chance. Some dark design

Untraced as yet to its pernicious source

Has spread these threat'ning fires. Madam retire,

And banish every fear. This brave Centurion

Will guard your safety. I must speed to find

The destin'd empress. 'Twas the emperor's order

I should take care of both.

Cornelia.

Did Titus then

Think of our safety?

Publius.

He to all attends,

Provides 'gainst all. Had'st thou but seen the hero,

Serene amidst confusion, check the rash,

Confirm the timorous, with threats, with praise,

Quick to discern, now urge, and now restrain,

You would have seen united in one man,

The delegate of Jove, Rome's sword and shield,

The prince, the friend, the citizen, the father.

I must delay no longer. Now 'tis safe

To lead you hence. Valerius will conduct you

Clear from the capitol, he knows the passage.

Madam farewell! I must attend the princess.

Exit Publius. Centurion conducts Cornelia. Enter VITELLIA, looking about distractedly.

My search is bootless, some propitious ray

Direct me where to find him. 'Tis in vain.

Then let me fly, and warn the emperor.

Sextus! 'tis he—

To her, SEXTUS, with a bloody dagger.

Sextus.

In human! yes behold him.

Know thy own ensigns: these distracted looks,

These tottering knees this dagger dyed in blood.

Now smile, and gild these horrors if you can.

Thy cruel mandate is too well obey'd.

Vitellia.

What do I hear!

Sextus.

Alas too sure Vitellia!

Titus, oh Gods! pours forth his mighty soul,

And throbs in death's last pangs

Vitellia.

Dies by thy hand?

Sextus.

I did it not. Struck with remorse too late

I strove to save him. Ere I could arrive

A villain of the vile confederacy

Had pierced him from behind. In vain I cried,

"Hold monster! hold!" the fatal blow was sped,

The assassin left his execrable steel

Deep in the wound, and fled. In haste I tried

To wrench it forth, but with the reeking blade

The blood gush'd on my robe, and oh dire fate!

The hero closed his eyes, and lifeless fell.

Vitellia.

Why am not I too dead! Oh tis too much!

Had the same hour that snatch'd his precious life

Seal'd these sad eyes in everlasting night,

Had the same stroke transfix'd this throbbing heart,

How had I bless'd the hour, how clasp'd the wound

What endless misery had this breast escaped.

Sextus.

Pity and rage impell'd me to chastise

The impious murderer. In vain I sought him

He has escaped my fury. Fiends shall find him,

No darkness can conceal it. But oh Princess!

What shades will cover Sextus! Earth nor heaven

Will shelter or receive me. Where's my peace?

See what a price my desperate passion pays

To satisfy thy fury.

Vitellia.

True, too true.

I am a monster. This inhuman breast

Might suckle tigers, give to savage natures

More deadly fierceness. Blood-stain'd as thou art

Thy soul is white as Alpine snow compared

With my deep guilt. From this detested hour,

Mankind, like withering pestilence will shun me.

I am the curse which yon mysterious heaven

Hangs o'er thy destin'd towers, imperial Rome!

Thy sun is set, let darkness veil the earth,

Portentous, terrible; the offended Gods

Tho' hoary Flamens choke their skies with incense,

Ne'er cast one look to this devoted land

Abandoned o'er to man's enormity,

This land of horror, guilt, and parricide.

Sextus.

Oh thou had'st wrongs to mitigate thy crime,

But what had I? I lost no throne by Titus,

Tho' thousands sought, and merited his favour,

Still on my head the precious dew was shower'd.

Honour and wealth thro' all the mighty empire,

In copious streams flow'd from the will of Sextus.

Cherish'd, beloved! and well have I repaid him.

No father's shade like thine, cou'd haunt my slumbers,

To punish in the son, the sire's offence.

Yet villain I contrived—

Vitellia.

A father's shade!

Oh speak no more—Can base hypocrisy,

Affected reverence for a father's wrongs

Wash out the stains that purple all my soul?

A father's wrongs! a fury's jealousy.

Revenge devised the tale, and hell confirm'd it.

I felt no touch of filial piety.

Deluded man! now be thy anger just.

Why gleams that dagger idly in thy hand?

It reeks with precious blood. Here turn the point.

One drop from that dear stream mix'd in my veins

At least will rise, and plead in Heaven to spare me.

Sextus.

Wou'dst thou then doubly dye my hands in murder,

To wash out blood, by blood? Unhappy princess!

'Twere blessedness to die. The righteous gods

Reserve us both for heavier punishment.

Fruitless remorse, and ever gnawing anguish

We must endure while mortal, and hereafter,

All hell will rouse to wake new torments for us.

Vitellia.

Give me my just pre-eminence in woe.

Can friendship mourn like love. Too long I feign'd,

Struggled too long to hide the secret from thee

Deceived thee most, when most I seem'd to hate him.

Sextus.

'Tis well, 'tis well! let me feel all my horror.

Vitellia.

The first strong passion of my soul was love,

Its first dear object, Titus. Burst poor bosom!

All my fond heart could wish, my fancy form

Was heaven contriving for me. At the moment

My fatal frenzy urged thee to the deed

I was proclaim'd his empress. This curs'd day

Had seal'd him mine. Be merciful, and kill me,

Take pity on me heaven! it chokes devours me.

'Tis insupportable. O Titus! Titus!

Sextus.

Is this the balm thou pour'st into my wounds,

First raise the assassin's arm, and then despise him?

Tho' all the world should cast me forth with scorn,

Abhor, pursue me, thou shou'dst stretch thy hand

And pour the balm of comfort o'er my anguish.

Vitellia.

What balm, what comfort can Vitellia give thee?

Ask it from roaring seas, or burning Aetna,

Their rage is calm as slumb'ring infancy

To the wild passion of this stormy breast.

These hornet sounds already buzz around me,

"An emperor might be spared, but not a Titus.

"The land just panting with recover'd breath,

"Raw from the lash of gory tyranny.

"A balmy prince healing and merciful,

"Snatch'd from the bliss of sweet benevolence,

"To satiate an Alecto's jealous fury."

Sextus.

'Twas fear, 'twas phantom when I urged his virtues.

Vitellia.

Oh let us meet no more. Each time I view thee,

Again I seem to urge, he bleeds again.

Thou wert too quick, too ready to obey me.

Wou'd I had found some dilatory slave,

Insensible and cold. He wou'd have sooth'd,

Promis'd, but not perform'd, saved me from crimes

Heaven's mercy can't absolve, nor hell can punish.

Vitellia rushes out.

SEXTUS alone.

All is accomplish'd. I have pass'd the brink

Of every hope and fear. Does ought remain?

Is there a friend to trust, and be betray'd?

A mistress to impel my hand to murder,

And then disclaim, revile me, and avoid.

Ye thoughts that drive my whirling brain to madness,

Ye vengeful furies that besiege my soul,

I will not wait your tardy ministry,

But leap the gulph, and plunge at once to darkness.

Going to slab himself, Annius enters.

Annius.

Hold thy rash hand. The emperor requires.

Sextus.

Requires my blood. He shall be satisfied.

Struggling.

Annius.

Requires to see thee—

Sextus.

Where, in heaven to see me?

No, those bright portals are for ever bar'd.

There throned with demi-gods the hero sits,

Nor bends his glorious eyes to earth and me.

But I am doom'd to tread the dreary realms

Where sad Cocytus rolls his sullen wave,

Where Phlegeton boils o'er with livid fires,

Where guilty ghosts shall hiss me from their haunts,

And yelling furies through the gloom pursue me.

Annius.

Thy reason is disturb'd. Rouse, rouse for shame,

Decline not thus thy drooping brow to earth.

Why roll thy wandering eyes on vacant air

Shaping a hideous host of threat'ning forms,

From the black coinage of distemper'd fancy?

Sextus.

Think'st thou, these horrors are fantastical?

I feel them here; here is substantial hell,

Here, ever whirling wheels, and gnawing vultures.

Striking his breast.

Annius.

Come banish in the emperor's embrace

This gloomy brood of thick-eyed melancholy.

Now while the busy throng surround his throne,

When even Indifference wears the face of zeal,

And feels, or feigns officious loyalty,

He wonders much thou art not by his side,

That thou cou'dst leave him in the hour of peril.

Sextus.

That I cou'd leave him! how, is he not slain!

Annius.

Forbid it heaven! No, he returns unhurt,

Safe from the wild commotion.

Sextus.

Can it be!

Are my eyes false? Sure I beheld him fall,

Pierc'd by the assassin's dagger.

Annius.

Where beheld him?

Sextus.

In the frequented pass that leads from hence

To the Flaminian.

Annius.

Then thy eyes deceived thee.

Some other in the throng and wild confusion

Thy sight mistook for Titus.

Sextus.

How some other?

Say who cou'd dare to assume the imperial robe,

The sacred laurel, and the sovereign ensigns

Worn by the emperor only?

Annius.

Nay I know not.

But Titus lives (praise to kind heaven) unhurt.

I left him but this moment, and to seek thee.

Sextus.

Did I hear right? All gracious Jove I thank thee. Falling on his knees.

Sound it to lands remote, to air and skies,

Transporting word! again again repeat it!

Hush'd be the winds! no accent breathe but this.

O much-loved prince! Unfold thy arms, receive me.

Thou ever kind and welcome! now more dear

Than all the blessings love cou'd shower upon me,

Running into his arms.

Teach me to bear this joy. Thou dost not mock me?

Annius.

What still incredulous! convince thyself.

Trust thy own sense, and see if I deceive thee.

This moment come before him.

Sextus.

Come before him!

Shew him the vile perfidious who betray'd him!

Annius.

Amazement!—Thou!

Sextus.

Yes I. 'Twas I betray'd him.

I, the prime mover of the foul sedition,

The master daemon I. Go, get thee from me.

Contagion strikes from my infectious touch,

My breath will blast thee.

Annius.

I am lost in wonder.

Thou Sextus, thou betray the emperor!

Sextus.

Ask me no more. Spare the reiteration.

One fatal moment Annius has undone me.

Farewell! a long, a last adieu to Rome.

Think sometimes of thy friend, not what he is,

But what he was; and if his crimes will rise

To blot the kind remembrance, oh forget not,

These bitter tears that scald his burning cheek,

How sharp his sufferings, how sincere his sorrow.

Annius.

This is indeed a dreadful cause for sorrow.

Sextus.

Ay is it not, for never ceasing sorrow?

Farewell once more. I go for ever from thee

To mourn, and hide my guilt in solitude.

To fall by my own hand were cowardice.

May every God who sees my deep remorse

Guard him, whom I no more must dare to name.

Thou Annius! with thy courage and thy faith,

'Gainst foreign danger, and domestic treason,

By day, by night, in peace, in war, defend him,

Defend him from the inconstancy of Rome,

But most defend him from his treacherous friends.

Annius.

Another time explain this mystery,

Now let me think. The plot is yet unknown.

The flames 'tis thought were spread by accident,

But thy precipitate flight, unhappy friend!

Will six on thee the stain.

Sextus.

What canst thou counsel?

Annius.

Do not withdraw, but keep the secret close.

Attend the emperor—think all pass'd a dream,

When dusky spirits ruled the unwholesome air,

And from their vaprous pinions dipt in Styx,

Shook phantoms round thy head.

Sextus.

The wounded wretch

(Whoe'er he was) that fell beneath the stroke

Ere this perhaps has given me up to shame.

Annius.

I'll to the place where you beheld him fall,

Examine who he was, and bring thee tidings

Of all that may concern thy life or safety.

Before the breast of Titus can admit

Suspicion of thy faith, there will be time

To apprise thee of the danger. Then withdraw,

Uncertain is the peril if you stay,

But certain, if you fly.

Sextus.

My scatter'd sense

Scarce comprehends thy reason, tho' my heart

Acknowledges the kindness. Guide me Annius!

I go since you advise it.—But these cheeks

Stript of their wholesome hue, these haggard eyes

Loud as the herald's throat will publish me.

Annius.

The least delay may bring destruction now.

Sextus.

I go, this bloody mantle will betray me.

Annius.

Whence is that blood?

Sextus.

It spouted from the veins

Of the unhappy man I mourned for Titus.

Annius.

Hide it with strictest care from every eye.

Hold, as we pass we may exchange our robes,

I will take thine, these crimson drops wash'd out

(My chamber's near) I'll meet thee with the emperor.

The presence of a friend may bring thee comfort.

Sextus.

'Tis all I have left—wilt thou still call me friend?

As just awaken'd from a hideous trance

The dreadful phantoms still encompass me.

I tread with fear, and doubting every step,

Am lost in the delirium.

Annius.

Oh be gone.

END OF THIRD ACT.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.—TITUS, CORNELIA.

Titus.

CONSPIRE against my life! said you not so?

Cornelia.

Hoping my intercession might prevail

To obtain his pardon from your clemency,

One of the traitors made confession full.

The man you know, and like the chief he follow'd

A worthless object of your frequent bounty:

Yet to be prais'd in this.

Titus.

Then Lentulus

Is guilty. That bad man, unfit for trust,

Check'd by my power in his rapacity,

Wou'd wipe the memory out of past offence

But by transgressing deeper. In the account

Of foes like him I count my own desert.

His enmity's a laurel. But what further?

Cornelia.

Lentulus, the impious Lentulus

Devised the enterprise, with mad design

To wrest Rome's sceptre from thy sacred hand.

He sired the capitol to raise the tumult,

And in the imperial robe and wreath expected

The giddy crowd, for ever fond of change,

And ever for the worst, shou'd shout him up

A sovereign for his plumage. But the robe,

(How just is heaven) assumed for thy perdition,

Assured his own. One of the desperate band

Mistaking the impostor for the prince,

Drench'd in the blood of Lentulus his steel,

Deceived but by that garment.

Titus.

Is he dead?

Cornelia.

Of that I'm yet to learn.

Titus.

Methinks 'tis strange

They cou'd so long conceal the bold design.

Cornelia.

Oh generous prince! thou art not yet secure,

Treason is round thee. See this crimson badge,

A riband such as this binds up the robe

O'er the right arm of every daring villain,

Shewing a riband.

Observe it, and be cautious.

Titus.

My fair friend!

These are the joys of empire. Judge me Truth!

Have I not held my people's happiness

Much dearer than my own, yet all my cares

Are sown in barrenness, or shoot rank weeds

Choking the soil that nurs'd them. From my brow

One desperate hand wou'd tear this hard-earn'd wreath

To wear it on his own, and still more strange

He finds abettors. Can it be in Rome?

Does Rome then hate thee, Titus?

Cornelia.

Think not so.

Think it a monster which the matron Rome

'Gainst Nature's course shook in convulsions forth,

Which when the startled parent found to swell

With venom dangerous to her proper life

With her own hands she strangled.

Titus.

Heavenly Synod,

You know if I have serv'd her. You beheld

When on the banks of Ister or of Nile,

Patient I felt the changing season's rage,

Or scorch'd in sultry Syria for her glory,

For her indulgence, cruel to myself,

I stifled my affections, banish'd from me

The first dear object of a mutual passion.

And thus (my tears will fall) ingrateful Rome

Even thus am I requited.

Cornelia.

Never yet

Was man so vile, or enterprize so wild,

Scorn'd or detested by the general sense,

As to want followers, from vice or folly,

Tho' hopeless still the issue.

To them, SEXTUS.

Sextus.

Oh that face!

I dare not look upon it.

Titus.

Sextus welcome!

How oft have we reproved our satyrists

For dark'ning Nature with black characters

Impress'd but by their spleen, nor could believe

The principles of ill so widely sown

In human bosoms to give countenance

For such irreverence 'gainst our common parent.

But farewell now fond plausibility,

Our milkiness be henceforth turn'd to gall.

For wou'd'st thou think it, Titus is betray'd?

Sextus.

Alas too well I know it! Aside.

Titus.

Wou'd'st thou think

Titus is Rome's abhorrence. Thou canst tell,

(For thou hast visited my inmost soul)

Have I deserv'd to be abhor'd by Rome?

Sextus.

Abhor'd!

Titus.

Nay tell me friend.—

Sextus.

I cannot speak.

Titus.

Thy tears speak for thee. Come to my embrace

Why this is retribution, these console me,

Such tender proofs of thy unshaken faith

For Rome's ingratitude.

Sextus.

I cannot bear it. Aside.

My silence is a second treachery.

To them, VITELLIA.

Vitellia.

Ha! Sextus here, then all is secret yet. Aside.

Sextus.

I will shake off this load. Aside.

Vitellia.

Victorious Caesar! Advancing.

The gods still guard thee! this auspicious hour

Thy country 'midst her happiest registers

Shall keep enroll'd for ever. Our glad altars

When the revolving sun renews this day,

Smoke with rich incense, and large hecatombs,

Attesting thee preserv'd, and heaven propitious.

Titus.

Thanks for this pious wish! yet trust me princess

Nor life, nor empire do I prize so high

To think them worth a struggle for themselves.

Let heaven reclaim my life, and Rome her empire

Thankful for their short date, I will resign them.

But go my Sextus, in the emperor's name

Send to their homes the astonish'd citizens.

Tell them the danger's past, and thank their love

That made my safety their peculiar care

When peril was to all as imminent.

That done, return. A grateful labour, Sextus,

Bears its own thanks.

Sextus.

Oh Janus, what an office!

Aside.

Exit Sextus.

At the opposite door enter ANNIUS, in the robe of SEXTUS.

Annius.

Order resumes its place, the flames are quell'd,

But wou'd our gilded palaces had choked

Their masters with their ashes, ere the shame

Of spreading them to catch the life of Titus

Had stain'd our annals. Therefore, Sir! take heed.

There are who seek thy death.

Titus.

Too plain I see it.

I read it with broad eyes, yet still my heart

Combats the witness, and wou'd fain disprove

The palpable conviction of their sense.

While you like an ambiguous sorcerer,

Shew me at once my fate, and warn against it.

'Tis past all doubt—Cornelia, look, behold!

The very badge, the traitorous ensign see

Hangs on the arm of Annius.

Cornelia.

Ha, it blinds me.

Titus.

Too plain, too plain. The very form, the colour.

Vitellia.

He in our league! I have destroyed him too. Aside.

Cornelia.

Traitor!

Annius.

Amazement, and from thee Cornelia.

Titus.

And wou'd'st thou shed my blood, my son, my Annius.

Annius.

Sooner let furies seize, or lightning blast me!

Titus.

Dissembling now is vain. That crimson flag,

That blushing symbol, is the kindred badge

Of perfidy and murder. The riband on the robe of Annius

Annius.

This, what's this?

You make me wonder. By my soul I swear

I know of no device this silk contains.

Vitellia.

Distraction comes for thought. O pitying powers! Aside.

Suggest some lucky artifice to save him.

Annius.

But Sir forgive my honest indignation!

My conscious innocence assumes the licence.

Had any tongue—but thine—thus dared to accuse me,

I shou'd not tamely stand to expostulate,

Nor put my well tried truth on affirmation,

But my quick sword had started from my side,

And stab'd the lie in the foul slanderer's throat.

Titus.

The injured must complain, nor wou'd I check

A decent freedom in the meanest tongue.

Such passion shou'd have praise with honesty.

Yet think not loudness can outorganize

The silent crimination of that silk.

Why dost thou wear it?

Annius.

Wear it Sir? this silk?

Unhappy friend! No Sextus I will spare thee. Aside.

Vitellia.

Oh that the earth wou'd yawn, and swallow me!

Aside.

Titus.

'Tis manifest. Guilt chokes his utterance.

Vitellia.

Heart, heart be still. Thy throbbing will betray me. Aside.

Titus.

Cornelia pity me. All men but me

Make friends by bounties. When I pray the Gods,

I must not pray against mine enemies

Who meet me in the glittering files of war,

But that the bosom of the friend I cherish,

And strain to mine, may not hide daggers 'gainst me,

That every benefit my hand confers,

By transformation most unnatural,

Become not, like the ooze of ebbing Nile

A bed to engender asps and crocodiles.

Cornelia.

Medusa's sever'd head, that brew'd a pest

With every drop that fell, produced no fang,

No viper keen as this ingratitude.

Titus.

May thunder strike me, if I wou'd not rather

Had I unnumber'd lives at once resign them,

Than hold one fitful feverish being thus

With such vile thoughts, and such detested caution.

Vitellia.

Oh for an age of bliss, I'd not endure Aside.

The hell of this distraction in my bosom.

Titus.

Now own the improvidence of persidy.

If trifles make men jealous, oftener still

Trifles betray the deep concerted wile

With all black powers of night evoked to hide it.

Behold him there, the lover for whose arms

Thy constancy refused Rome's diadem.

Cornelia.

Oh add not to my sorrow. On this cheek

Deep glows the unextinguishable shame

Which that proud front still bold and unabash'd,

Tho' native to his crime, disdains to wear.

Titus.

Yet answer me, say most ungrateful man!

How could thy bosom harbour the foul thought,

To murder him who loved thee? Answer me.

Annius.

Appearances condemn me. Let your wisdom

Against this fluttering frivolous levity, the riband,

Weigh the whole tenor of my life, my truth

Protested strongly, this encreasing wonder

That almost strangles utterance, then determine

Which scale preponderates.

Titus.

So may it prove.

Publius, I grieve to see his conscious pangs.

My presence doubles his distress and shame.

See him secured: and straight instruct the senate

To examine his design, and find its source.

I leave thee to thy heart, a keener monitor

Than my reproaches, which henceforth I spare thee.

Proportion but thy sorrow to thy sin,

And life will prove thy heaviest punishment.

Exit Titus. Publius signs to an Officer who puts chains on Annius, and exit.

Remain ANNIUS, VITELLIA and CORNELIA.

Annius.

All is not lost, thou ever kind and gentle,

My rest, my harbour from the storms of fate!

My tempest beaten bosom flies to thee,

And longs to be enfolded by thy softness.

What means this scorn?

Cornelia.

Away, and come not near me

Unless thou mean'st still deeper to impress,

My rooted detestation. Witness Dian!

Had fortune emptied her whole quiver on thee

Stript thee of wealth and honours, chang'd thy form

(Thus goodly as it is) to loathsome foulness,

My constancy had triumph'd o'er her malice,

And woes on woes had more endear'd thee to me,

But now to love thee, treacherous, base, ungrateful,

Were to forget myself, renounce my honour,

And make me share the persidy I scorn.

Exit Cornelia.

ANNIUS, VITELLIA,

Annius.

Yet innocent, I will abide it all.

Princess you gaze as I were dangerous,

Yet seeming, not reality, confounds me.

As from the eclipse of black surrounding clouds

The sun's effulgence breaks with double lustre

So shall my truth cast off this veil of shame,

And shine more bright from base obscurity.

Vitellia.

O rank not me with those obdurate hearts

Which always frail, and often hypocrite,

Less adverse to the crime, than the detection,

Wou'd sharpen hard affliction's keenest pang

As they were charter'd against mortal frailty.

I have a thousand things to say to thee,

I staid not to upbraid, but give thee comfort.

Know Annius!

To them, SEXTUS entering.

Sextus.

Bear me whirlwinds to his feet.

Hold on your lives—Off with these shameful bonds

Shall truth and honour walk thus manacled,

While treason roams at large. That robe was mine,

The guilt is mine. Be quick ye tardy slaves!

Fix your vile fetters here—

Vitellia.

Be patient Sextus!

(He heeds me not.) These have no power to free him.

Officer.

My lord, the consuls send to summon us

To the assembled senate.

Annius.

Lead me to them.

Thou see'st what I endure. Push'd to the brink,

I kept thy fatal secret. If 'tis possible

Save thy own life, but O preserve my honour.

Exit Annius guarded.

Remain SEXTUS, VITELLIA.

Sextus.

Off, let me pass. To Vitellia who holds him.

Vitellia.

Yet hold a little moment

Sextus.

Is't not enough? What, not yet satisfied?

Vitellia.

Oh do not waste these precious hours in strife,

But fly this moment, and by flight preserve

Thy life, and poor Vitellia's.

Sextus.

How! by flight?

And leave my guiltless friend exposed to ruin.

Vitellia.

I will preserve thy friend. Frame thou the form

Of any solemn oath, be heaven and hell

Attested for its sanction, bind me down

To pains on earth, to Tartarus hereafter,

Write it in blood, my own blood, boiling blood,

May my remaining hours be more accurs'd,

The pangs more sharp than those I suffer now,

May I be still more wretched.—

Sextus.

No, I stir not,

While the rais'd sword hangs threatning o'er his head.

What leave him in this dire extremity,

The forfeit of my crime?

Vitellia.

How shall I swear?

By heaven, by all my hopes I will preserve him.

Sextus.

But what avails my flight?

Vitellia.

Is that a question?

My honour and thy life are both secure.

Discovery must destroy thee, and my secret

Becomes as public as the capitol.

Sextus.

No, fear not. By my life, and all things sacred,

Here shall it rest, deep buried in my bosom,

To death I will conceal it.

Vitellia.

I cou'd trust thee,

If less thy love to Titus. 'Gainst his rigour

Thy courage wou'd sustain thee. But his mercy,

His gentleness and friendship must subdue,

And melt thy soul to weakness. Hear, oh hear me!

By the dear memory of the first soft hours

That charm'd thy soul to fondness, by our loves,

By all thy hopes hold dear, I beg thee fly,

Confirm my fluttering heart. I owe thee much,

O make me more thy debtor, 'tis the boon,

The mightiest thy affection can bestow,

Or mine accept: It gives me peace and honour.

See on my knees I supplicate. Oh Sextus! Kneels.

Let me prevail;—can'st thou behold me thus,

See these uplifted hands, these streaming eyes?

Sextus.

Wou'd we had never met, our destinies

Raising her.

Had slept divided centuries asunder.

But fate ordain'd us, dreadful instruments

To toil together in one Stygian web,

And in the texture weave our own destruction:

Vitellia.

Oh impotence of wishes! what avail they!

The child, the dotard's waste of hours unpriz'd,

Who was e'er wise or happy for a wish?

Will they recall time past, secure my honour,

Seal up the senate's ears, or break thy fall,

When the grim lictor drags thee to the rock,

(Thy mildest doom) to hurl thee down for ever.

Sextus.

Thy counsels have been ever fatal to me,

And shall I trust them now? My deafen'd ears

Still ring with thy reproach, thy love avow'd

Even for the man you rais'd my arm to murder.

Vitellia.

These were the rash effusions of despair

The last I e'er shall utter. From this hour

Let peace and gentleness unite our hearts.

Sorrow and shame have so subdued me since

Scarce have I power enough to ask forgiveness

Yet listen to my suit. Thy soften'd eyes

Beam sweet compliance. Yes thou dost consent,

I read it in thy looks, thy soft'ning brow.

Turn not away, say do my hopes deceive me?

With my heart's wings spread over thee I wait.

Pity my anguish! Speak, oh speak and ease me.

Sextus.

I can forgive my wrongs, and mourn thy sorrow

I wou'd obey thee too, but my poor friend,

My generous Annius, he forbids my flight,

Bids me sustain a thousand lingering deaths

Rather than poorly fly, and let him perish.

Vitellia.

Inexorable still! then take thy fate.

My fears were most for thee. I have a heart

Can give bold counsel in extremity,

A hand can execute. And each resolv'd

This dagger ends our strife. Draws a dagger.

Sextus.

For pity hold!

Depend upon my faith—again I swear

No torture from my breast shall wring the secret.

To them, PUBLIUS, with a guard.

Publius.

I grieve at the sad office, but my duty

Requires that I demand that dangerous sword.

Sextus.

Why dost thou ask it?

Publius.

Know unhappy man!

Fierce Lentulus still lives. You guess the rest.

Vitellia.

Oh death to all my hopes! Aside.

Sextus.

The toils are round me.

Seest thou Vitellia?

Publius.

I must lead thee hence.

Already are the senators assembled,

To sentence or acquit thee. 'Tis my charge

To bring thee to the trial. With reluctance

Unfelt before must I fulfill the office.

Follow me this way. Exit Publius.

VITELLIA, SEXTUS.

Vitellia.

Thou self sacrificed!

A moment might have saved thee. Now 'tis pass'd,

Farewell, this one embrace, 'tis all I have left,

For the vast ruin I have brought down on thee.

Sextus.

O if prolong'd, 'twou'd make death smile, Vitellia!

Once I had fame and honour, both are lost,

And 'tis but sit, my life shou'd follow them.

Exit guarded.

VITELLIA, alone.

Oh most compleatly wretched! swallow'd quick

All the proud structure of my towering hopes.

Love, glory, empire to the centre sink,

And leave me whelm'd in infamy and horror.

Hark, the invenomed whisper spreads around.

My shame becomes the tale of babbling Rome.

Lo, Sextus drags me to the bloody bar,

And awful Titus by my rage devoted,

Mounts his tribunal, and to death consigns me,

Then, since thy frantic jealousy cou'd rise

To mock at danger, and to spurn all laws,

Let one bold frenzy soar a nobler height,

Cut short the specious forms of tardy justice,

And satiate hell with voluntary blood.

Exit.

END OF FOURTH ACT.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Apartment of VITELLIA.

VITELLIA, alone.

NO rest for the unhappy! Sleep forsakes me.

What a craz'd monster is Conspiracy!

Slumbers distracted, and unrelish'd food,

The bright day cheerless, and unbless'd the night,

Anger, suspicion, fear, and jealousy,

Recrimination, dangerous confidence,

A foe in every eye, detection sounding

From hollow caverns, and viewless winds.

Stocks, stones, and nature's basest vermin tribes

Endued with organs to proclaim the offence,

And hiss the treason to sure punishment.

Break ope the chambers of a fury's den,

And find the inside of Conspiracy.

To VITELLIA, ZANTHIA.

I sent thee to the Senate. Thy sad looks

Like sorrow's ushers, ere I hear thy tale

Bid me forbode the worst—Nay dry thine eyes.

Despair in this is bless'd, 'tis the dead calm

Of misery's consummation.—Zanthia speak!

Zanthia.

Forgive my tears, the awful spectacle

Still shakes my very soul.—Think you beheld

The populous city pour forth all its swarms,

To cluster in the forum. The robed fathers

As if they sat not judges of the crime,

But pale and anxious were themselves arraign'd,

Even breathing seem'd suppress'd by expectation,

And every eyeball shot beyond its sphere.

Vitellia.

Shall I hear more, or bid thee spare the rest?

My boasted resolution dies within me,

And like an untrain'd soldier ere the sight

Shrinks at the distant sounding of the charge.

But tell me all—I wish, yet dread to hear thee.

Zanthia.

Soon was the unhappy youth, mournful, abash'd,

Remorse, not fear, stamp'd on his gracious visage,

(His pale cheek resting on his iron chain)

Led forth to judgment, while his stern accuser

With eyes all fire, tho' feeble from his wound,

Flung heavy treasons on him.

Vitellia.

Oh that tyger!

Rash incapacity! yet driving ever

The wiser who shou'd guide him to their ruin,

Name him no more,—but Sextus.

Zanthia.

Meek and sad,

He neither strove to palliate or deny,

But earnest beg'd, as all the guilt was his,

He, only he, might 'bide the punishment.

Vitellia.

O ancient honour! O true Roman heart,

Worthy thy firm forefather, Regulus!

Speak on, speak on! let every word you utter,

Strike daggers here, and frustrate this my hand,

Resolved to give him justice.

Zanthia.

When the consul

With faltering voice pronounced his dreadful doom.

Vitellia.

Be brief, and tell me what.

Zanthia.

Most horrible!

My blood runs cold to name it. On the Arena

By ravenous lions to be torn alive.

Vitellia.

Barbarians! monsters! why revile the senate?

They sentence but the crime, I made him guilty.

Hast thou more torture for me?

Zanthia.

Thus condemn'd,

A general groan, as if the mingled throng

Had but one breast, shook all the spacious dome.

In copious streams tears gush'd from every eye,

He only unappall'd, with modest grace

In reverent silence bow'd to own their justice.

The assembly rising, his attendant guard

Led him to Caesar, who has since confirmed

The sentence of the fathers, and this hour

Ill-fated Sextus dies.

Vitellia.

Led him to Caesar!

Then Hope's last ray is quench'd, my shame reveal'd,

His fate inevitable. Bastard conscience!

That dreading the detection, urged the deed.

Repentance for a child!—enough, retire!

Zanthia.

Pardon your faithful slave, I dare not leave you.

There is a deadly fixture in your eye,

Bespeaks some fatal purpose.

Vitellia.

Yes most fatal.

And all the world like thee should kneel in vain

To alter my resolves.—Be near and wait me.

Exit Zanthia.

VITELLIA, alone.

Alone he shall not die, the means are near me.

My father when his sun 'gan to decline,

And fate's black cloud hung on the eve of life,

Gave me a phial, bad me treasure it.

"Daughter (he cried) against adversity,

"That cordial will desend thee. Wait not girl!

"To be swept off like rubbish from the world,

"Nor drink as I have done, the dregs of Fortune."

Prophetic Dowry! to thy destined aim

My extremity shall use thee. World adieu!

And you immortal rulers of the sky,

Who thro' the abyss roll'd this huge globe of earth,

Call'd light from darkness, and made visible

The gorgeous sun, with those bright orbs of sire

That nightly glitter round the glowing pole,

Accept my spirit, send one glorious beam

To cheer my last farewell to light and life.

Zanthia come forth! support me to my closet,

Thy service soon will end.

To her, ZANTHIA.

Zanthia.

My gracious mistress?

Do I again behold thee, safe, unhurt?

Vitellia.

Zanthia, there are unnumber'd ways to death,

And I have chosen a sure one.—Hush, no tears.

Wonder, not grief, must grace my obsequies. Exeunt.

Scene Changes.

CORNELIA, ANNIUS following.

Cornelia.

Support me, save me! Oh eternal powers

What have my eyes beheld?

Annius.

Heart thou art stone,

Else thou wou'd'st burst at this.

Cornelia.

Is this their love?

O thou vile city, that but yesterday

Cast forth thy tribes to shout him to the sky,

Deaf'ning the ears of Jove, now to the Circus

To see him mangled, his poor heart torn out,

They fly as volleying sires pursued their speed,

Nor cast one look behind.

Annius.

His blood this hour

Will glut their savage curiosity.

The surly keepers by the senate's order

From the gaunt lions hold their wonted food

To whet their fierceness for the barbarous meal.

I saw their glaring eyes, heard the deep growl

Portentous of the carnage they expected.

Cornelia.

I am most miserible. My exulting heart

Beat high with joy to find thee innocent,

But oh I little thought, a husband's honour

Cou'd be redeem'd but by a brother's death.

Is no way left to save him?

Annius.

None but one,

And that he has rejected. I was present,

A weeping witness of the interview.

Soften'd almost to tears the gracious prince

By the dear memory of their early friendship,

By duty, faith and gratitude adjured him

To make a full confession of the cause

Which wrought him to the attempt. By such compliance

Deep in oblivion to entomb offence,

And give him back the wonted place he held,

First in his soul's affection.

Cornelia.

Cou'd my brother

Hear it unmoved?

Annius.

Oh no, his streaming eyes,

His breast convuls'd with passion, deep fetch'd groans,

Proclaim'd th' unutterable agony.

Prostrate to earth he fell, avow'd his crime,

And in the frantic vehemence of grief

Call'd blessings on his injured master's head,

And curses on his own. But to reveal

The cause of his revolt, nor threats, nor prayers,

Favor, nor life, nor fear of death could move him.

Cornelia.

Then what remains for me. I vainly hoped

A sister's tears might move him. From our infancy

The tenderest union twined our hearts in love.

Like blossoms from one parent stock we grow,

Put forth the opening buds of youth together,

And both at once must wither. Oh believe it!

So dear, so vital is my fondness for him

To save my brother's blood I'd meet pale death

And clasp him like a bridegroom. My next hope

Was in the emperor's pity, he alas

Forbids my intercession.

Annius.

Never saw I

Passion so shake him. His last wrathful words,

(I hear their thunder still) "hence to thy doom,

"Unnatural were thy deeds, thy end be dreadful."

Cornelia.

I rack my thoughts in vain. Yet oh I know

Were he not bound by some delusive tie

Of spurious honour to this fatal silence,

His soul wou'd yield to friendship's sympathy,

Nor hide this secret canker which within

Consumes his life in silence.

Annius.

Thine too with it.

But when were crimes confined in consequence?

Yet leave me nought untried. Go seek the emperor,

Again embrace his knees, shew thy sad eyes.

There is in woman's tears a melting power,

Man's nature can't attain, nor man resist.

Perhaps he may relent.

Cornelia.

He must, he shall.

God of persuasion! with prevailing sounds

Endue thy suppliant's tongue, such as may wrest

The brandish'd bolt from this imperial Jove,

Quench the red lightning of his terrible eye,

And for the fiery shaft of ruthless ire,

Infuse sweet peace, and melting clemency.

Exeunt.

SCENE—The Circus.

TITUS, PUBLIUS, Senators, Lictors, Guards, &c.—LENTULUS and other Conspirators in Chains at the bottom of the Stage.—ANNIUS and CORNELIA following TITUS.

Titus

Before the games begin, lead Sextus hither.

Cornelia & Annius.

Oh thou, whose godlike nature ne'er in vain Kneeling together.

Affliction kneel'd to, at your feet behold—

Titus.

Cornelia rise. Think not the soul of Caesar

Keeps one unshaken tenor, while thy breast

Is heav'd with anguish, or that thick rib'd ice

Surrounds a heart cold and insensible,

Not to be thaw'd but by the melting power

Of drops from woman's eyes.

Cornelia.

Oh for my brother

Let my tears stream for ever, the cold ground

Be channel'd by my knees, no accent heard

But my perpetual prayer.

Titus.

A soundless voice

Beyond the tongues of Rome's best orators,

Gesture, or Hybla periods, here within

Pleads for him deep, so trust me, all offence

'Gainst Titus is absolv'd.

Cornelia.

Why then with all

Is he absolv'd, for you and only you

Has he offended.—

Titus.

With the emperor,

The abstract of Rome's state and majesty,

Who chiefly stands responsive for her weal

Some commutation must be made for mercy.

Improvident to leave a noxious spring

To burst out on the general health, unsearch'd,

Would ill become my prudence, or my fanctions.

Observe him, pray be silent.

Sextus brought forward by Publius.

Cornelia.

For a moment—

But for a little moment.—Oh my brother!

Seize now the trembling crisis of thy fate.

Cast from thy soul this obstinate disease,

This vice of honour, shameful in the extreme.

Oaths with the wicked, in themselves are void,

What's holy made unholy, heaven adjur'd

Against itself. It cannot be in reason,

In virtue less;—disclaim it, oh disclaim it,

Or reprobate at once both truth and wisdom.

Titus.

Once more we meet. The senate have condemn'd thee,

To a sore punishment. Rome's peace disturb'd,

Offended majesty, the laws infringed,

Friendship betray'd. Both earth and heaven cry out

For justice on thee.

Sextus.

Both shall be appeas'd.

Make my dire sentence still more horrible.

Oh had I lives unnumber'd as thy virtues,

And all paid down, how poor the expiation!

Titus.

Then hear my last award. Publius go thou

Pronounce to Lentulus, and his followers,

Forgiveness, life, and freedom. Romans mark:

I know, I pardon, and forget their crimes.

Cornelia.

How my heart throbs! O Gods look down on Sextus.

Titus.

I would not mix thee with the common herd

To Sextus.

The subjects of the state, not Caesar's friends,

But wishing to restore thee to my heart

Wou'd make thee worthy of it.

Sextus.

That vast treasure,

Lost in a sea of guilt, and sunk for ever,

No more must call me master.

Titus.

One condition

So oft proposed, even now accept from Titus,

And if in all our days of life to come

One semblance of enstrangement from my brow

Reprove thee by its coldness, call me loudly

Vindictive, base—ascribe the good I mean thee,

Not to my kindness, but my fear to punish.

Sextus.

New torture, new distraction! how determine Aside.

My silence will offend the generous prince,

And if I speak, I must destroy Vitellia.

Titus.

Have you a care more instant than your life?

Have you a bond more sacred than your duty?

Have you a friend more cordial than your prince?

What no reply? Is then my pity for thee

Not worth the stooping for? take heed rash man

Wake not again my anger.

Cornelia.

Sextus! brother!

Pull not the unwilling thunder on thy head,

But stop it yet suspended.

Sextus.

Extrication Aside.

Is most impossible. I cannot, 'tis in vain.

Titus.

Proceed!

What dost thou mean to tell me?

Sextus.

That the fates,

Avenging fates have hurl'd their curses on me.

That I no longer can sustain the load

Of my sad destiny, that I proclaim myself,

A traitor, villain, that I merit death,

And as the last, the greatest boon implore it.

Cornelia.

Not all the gods can save him.

Titus.

From this hour

All pressures of affection quit my breast,

Make it a plate of iron, no soft touch

To leave a print more than the reptile's trail

Wiped off with scorn and loathing. Armed files

Observant of my danger watch my steps,

Place them around my table and my couch,

My food be tasted, all my chambers search'd,

For kindness is a fool, dulleyed and dim,

Losing the dolt who trusts him.

Annius.

Emperor!

Titus.

Away, away! I shall mistrust myself,

Suspect my head may plot against my heart,

My hand be arm'd 'gainst both. My nature's frame

Is wrench'd by this convulsion.

Sextus.

Death's worst pang

To Cornelia.

In his enkindled wrath I have proved already,

Then welcome all to come.

Titus.

Hear me ungrateful!

Tho' justice well might bid thy treacherous blood

Stream o'er these sands, and from her steady throne

Unshaken hear thee howling, yet for these

(Unworthy as thou art) who mourn thy folly,

I spare thy life, but from my sight for ever,

From the wide precincts of imperial Rome

I banish thee. Approach no more this city,

Nor me thy injured master, else thy life

With treble vengeance pays the disobedience.

Sue not in vain, for by Olympian Jove! To Cornelia.

This stands immutable.—Publius lead on!

VITELIA, entering attended by ZANTHIA.

Vitellia.

Stand off, and give me way. This is no time,

For forms and maiden coldness. View me Rome,

Behold the bridal of your destin'd empress

New pomp, new triumphs wait your new Augusta

No Hymen now shall wave his sprightly torch,

Nor choral virgins strew my paths with flowers

But the fell sisters wind the thin spun thread,

And death and horror deck my funeral couch.

Titus.

Whence is that voice, that makes my bosom's chords Turning.

Vibrate its mournful music? ha, our empress.

Vitellia.

Where is the senate that condemn'd young Sextus?

Where he, who durst accuse him? turn to me

Ye undiscerning judges. Saw ye not

A woman's rage, a woman's jealousy

Kindled this brand of discord.

Titus.

Do I wake?

Sure the red Sirius from his fiery orb

Scattering contagious frenzy thro' the air,

Has smote the general reason. All's infection.

Vitellia.

Oh Sextus, Sextus! groveling at thy feet,

Thus prostrate on the ground let me approach thee,

Pardon thy murdress, whose fleeting soul

Just hovers at her lips, to catch that sound,

And soon in night's eternal shade shall join thee.

Sextus.

Stop this wild frenzy, to the world proclaim not.—

Vitellia.

O glorious frenzy! wou'd this feeble voice,

Were loud as Jove in thunder, that the poles,

The high rais'd heaven might hear me. I proclaim

Your cruel sentence void. Can they condemn

The obedient hand, the senseless instrument,

And let the forming head, the prompting heart,

That instigate the crime pass by unpunish'd?

Such Sextus is, the hand of my device.

By love well feign'd, by Syren slattery,

By tears, by soothing, every wile I wrought him,

To plot his master's death. Is Sextus guilty?

No I, and only I. Revoke his doom.

If Roman blood must gorge your lions maws

Cast forth Vitellia to them.

Titus.

Both I look at,

Till wonder stifles anger.—Thou Vitellia

With rancorous hate to raise the assassin's arm

Against my life!

Vitellia.

Far dearer than my own.

Thy native inborn gentleness deceived me,

And heighten'd kindness to a warmer flame:

Oh 'tis the weakness of o'erweening love,

To think a passion mutual, where 'tis hoped.

I hoped thy hand, thy throne, but twice postponed

I cou'd not bear the affront, and sought thy ruin.

I had no sex, my heart was adamant.

Titus.

Then thus the long sought mystery's reveal'd,

And thou the cause of all. Restore his sword.

The guilt which sprung from love I pardon freely,

And thus embrace thee for that perilous honour

That nobly risk'd thy life, and braved my anger..

Embracing Sextus.

Vitellia.

Then I have saved him! every bounteous God,

On that forgiving head send blessings down,

May laurel'd victory grace thy arms in war,

And peace in soft security enfold thee.

For me, a draught of deadly aconite

Winds its cold current thro my freezing veins:

Sextus farewell! this serpent drinks my blood.

Caesar, I die.

Sextus.

What's this? her quivering lips

Grow pale, her gleaming eyes.

Vitellia.

Shoot their last sires,

Ere this I had been dust, but hope to save

Thy forfeit life, like a strong antidote

A little while kept in the struggling soul.

Titus.

Poison'd?

Zanthia.

Too sure, and by her own rash hand.

Vitellia.

A father's gift, more dear than life he gave me.

Titus.

Unhappy fair one!

Vitellia.

Oh, let none lament me.

I was not form'd for happiness on earth.

Downy it rests on the soft textur'd mind,

Repelled from throbbing sensibility.

Passions too strong, a pride implacable,

Had kept me restless, even with all I wish'd.

One glance from thee to any other woman

(Had I once call'd thee mine) had fired my brain

To some mad act, to end like this, in ruin.

Light swims before me—Titus!—Oh farewell. Dies.

Titus.

Sextus, delusion's victim! this way turn!

My heart once more is open to receive thee.

Let friendship's gentler, steadier flame dispel

The sad remembrance of that fatal passion.

Sextus.

May the black hour when first my heart conceived it

Be blotted from the Roman calendar.

Or if it circles with the round of time,

Disasters mark it. All things thought or done

In that ill season, like my luckless love,

Find shame their issue, till the dire increase

Of multiplied distractions, end like this

In blindfold rage, and desperate self destruction.

Stabs himself.

Cornelia.

Horror on horror! Annius! Publius, all!

Arrest his furious arm. He bleeds, he dies.

Titus.

All but this blow, I cou'd have pardon'd Sextus.

This deed was all thy own, it proudly spurns

The life my friendship gave, my heart rejoiced in.

Sextus.

My prince, my friend! my father! benefactor!

Most dear by every name, tho' wrong'd in all.

Ask thy great heart, cou'd I survive this shame?

Has not this gazing city seen me shackled,

Heard me pronounced a traitor, doom'd to die,

And worse than death, have not my deeds deserv'd it?

There was no way but this. I can no more.

Oh wou'd the darkness that invites my eyes

Might hide my name for ever. Oh. dies.

Annius.

He's gone! wringing his hands.

Titus.

Annius! I owe more tears to that pale corpse

Than Rome shall see me shed. Break off the games.

Let every sad and honourable rite

Hallow their urns. Farewell ill fated pair!

My sorrow shall embalm your memory,

And with your ashes, be your frailties buried.

Curtain falls.

EPILOGUE.

SUCH is the force of custom's powerful sway

An Epilogue must finish every play,

But when, or where, or why the mode began,

Tell it some stage-read scholar, if he can.

I know enough for me, that 'tis the fashion,

Which governs this, and every other nation.

And yet to try with some poor paltry jest

To chase all tragic feelings from the breast,

Appears to my weak judgment, let me own,

Like filling of the pail, to kick it down.

Nor less absurd than if some beauteous queen

With mantle flowing and majestic mein,

More admiration of her charms to gain

Shou'd chuse a Monkey to bear up her train.

Pray tell would Handel's oratorio's please

If clos'd with Bobbin Joan, or Butter'd Peas?

Yet since the tyrant custom bids us try,

To make you laugh, whom we before made cry,

I wish with all my heart our Proteus poet

Had rhym'd me something merry that would do it.

No matter what, of homely Gills, or Jacks,

Or Beaux with spider legs, and lizard backs.

How the bold spirit of the modern dame

Throned in her car, drives the high road to fame,

While more delight the labour can afford,

To rule four coursers, than obey one lord.

Behold, incumbent o'er her ponies backs,

The sounding lash our female Jehu smacks,

Thro' her small fingers plys her skilful reins,

And cheers the nags with hoarse equestrian strains.

"Gee Rainbow, Peacock, Button, gee along

Then squares her elbows, and confounds the throng

While her soft bosom too robustly feels,

A man like glory from her kindling wheels.

At these perhaps you have sometimes laugh'd before,

Yet faith I wish you'd laugh at them once more.

I'd do my best to oblige you, as I live,

Then in return for once to oblige me strive.

Nor now to modern France can we resort,

Murder and crimes make melancholy sport.

Once, 'twas a happy land for all conditions,

Now, all is assignats and requisitions

Nor does the war with Holland promise much,

For who e'er brought home fancy from the Dutch?

Pepper and cheese they had, let us not wrong 'em,

But scarce one sprig of bays e'er grew among 'em.

The use of language as most travellers tell

They think, was only given to buy and sell,

And when three weighty words, the price is spoke,

Mynheer sinks down again to mum and smoke.

But now 'tis time to drop the mimic art,

And breathe one wish that swells each honest heart.

May Britain's son's with victory by their side

Make Holland shake, and humble Gallia's pride

The God of battle thro' all dangers guard 'em,

And their best meed, a Nation's thanks reward 'em!

Information about this book

Title statement

Conspiracy, a tragedy. By R. Jephson, Esq

Jephson, Robert, 1736-1803.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3883

ID [isbn10]

1106008820

ID [isbn13]

9781106008824

ID [TCP]

K033182.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3314532438

ID [ECLL]

0832500700

Availability

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Source

— Conspiracy, a tragedy. By R. Jephson, Esq, Jephson, Robert, 1736-1803.. [14],82,[4]p. ; 8⁰. Dublin :: printed by Graisberry & Campbell, for John Archer,. 1796.. [Altered from P. Metastasio's 'La clemenza di Tito'.] [With a half-title and an epilogue.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT28330.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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