to fall back, and advances from the JudgmentSeat to the front of the Stage, on a line with his Son. Well, Titus, speak--how is it with thee now?

Tell me, my son, art thou prepared to die?

Tit. Father, I call the powers of Heaven to witness

Titus dares die, if so you have decreed.
The gods will have it so!

Bru. They will, my Titus:

Nor heaven nor earth can have it otherwise.
It seemed as if thy fate were pre-ordained,
To fix the reeling spirits of the people,
And settle the loose liberty of Rome.

"Tis fixed ;--oh, therefore, let not fancy cheat thee:
So fixed thy death, that 'tis not in the power

Of mortal man to save thee from the axe.

Tit. The axe! O Heaven!--Then must I fall so basely?

What! shall I perish like a common felon ?

Bru. How else do traitors suffer ?-Nay, Titus, more—

I must myself ascend yon sad tribunal-

And there behold thee meet this shame of death,
With all thy hopes and all thy youth upon thee,-
See thy head taken by the common axe,—
All, if the gods can hold me to my purpose,
Without one groan, without one pitying tear.

[Turns about, as if in agony.

Tit. Die like a felon ?-Ha! a common felon!-

But I deserve it all:—yet here I fail :-
This ignominy quite unmans me!
O Brutus, Brutus! must I call you father,
Yet have no token of your tenderness,
No sign of mercy?—not even leave to fall
As noble Romans fall, by my own sword?

[Kneels.

Father, why should you make my heart suspect
That all your late compassion was dissembled ?
How can I think that you did ever love me?
Bru. Think that I love thee by my present passion,
By these unmanly tears, these earthquakes here,
These sighs that strain the very strings of life,-
Let these convince you that no other cause
Could force a father thus to wrong his nature.
Tit. Oh, hold, thou violated majesty !

I now submit with calmness to my fate.

Come forth, ye executioners of justice—

Come, take my life, and give it to my country!

-

Bru. Embrace thy wretched father.

[Rises.

May the gods

Arm thee with patience in this awful hour.
The sovereign magistrate of injured Rome
Condemns

A crime thy father's bleeding heart forgives.
Go-meet thy death with a more manly courage
Than grief now suffers me to show in parting;
And, while she punishes, let Rome admire thee!
Farewell! Eternally farewell!-

Tit. O Brutus! O my father!—

Bru. What wouldst thou say, my son?
Tit. Wilt thou forgive me?

When I shall be no more, forget not my Tarquinia.

Bru. Leave her to my care.

Tit. Farewell forever!

Bru. Forever!

[Reascends the Tribunal.

Lictors, attend!-conduct your pris'ner forth!

Val. [Rapidly and anxiously.] Whither?

Bru. To death!-[All start.] When you do reach the

spot,

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

[TITUS is conducted out by the Lictors.-A dead march, which gradually dies away as it becomes more distant. BRUTUS remains seated in a melancholy posture on the Tribunal.

Poor youth! Thy pilgrimage is at an end!

A few sad steps have brought thee to the brink Of that tremendous precipice, whose depth No thought of man can fathom. Justice now Demands her victim! A little moment, And I am childless.-One effort, and 'tis past ![He rises and waves his hand, convulsed with agitation, then drops in his seat, and shrouds his face with his toga. Three sounds of the trumpet are heard instantly. All the Characters assume attitudes of deep misery.-BRUTUS starts up wildly, descends to the front in extreme agitation, looks out on the side by which TITUS departed, for an instant, then, with an hysterical burst, exclaims

Justice is satisfied, and Rome is free!

[BRUTUS falls.-The Characters group around him.

Nathaniel Parker Willis.

BIANCA VISCONTI; OR, THE HEART OVERTASKED. A TRAGEDY.

FRANCESCO SFORZA, a Condottiero of the Fourteenth Century, besieges Milan. To save his Dominions, FRANCESCO VISCONTI, Duke of Milan, offers his Daughter, BIANCA, in marriage to SFORZA, who accepts the offer.

The Apartment of BIANCA.-FIAMETTA, her WaitingWoman, embroidering, and GIULIO, the Page, thrumming his Guitar.

Page. I'd give my greyhound now-gold collar and silken leash—to know why the duke sent for my lady. Fiametta. Would you, Master Curiosity?

Page. Mistress Pert, I would-and thy acquaintance into the bargain.

Fia. Better keep the goods you come honestly by. I would you knew as well how your mistress came by you. Page. I came to her from heaven-like her taste for my music. [Hums a tune. Fia. Did you! do they make sacks in heaven? Page. There's a waiting-woman's question for you! Why sacks?

Fia. Because I think you came in one, like a present of a puppy-dog.

Page. Silence, dull pin-woman! here comes my mistress! [Takes off his cap as BIANCA enters. She walks across the stage, without heeding her Attendants.

Bianca. To marry Sforza!

My dream come true! my long, long cherished dream!
The star come out of heaven that I had worshipped!

The paradise I built with soaring fancy,
And filled with rapture like a honey-bee,
Dropped from the clouds at last!

Am I awake?—

Noble mistress!

Am I awake, dear Giulio?
Page. [Half advancing to her.]
Bian. Thank God, they speak to me!

It was this hand my father took to tell me
It was with these lips that I tried to speak-
It was this heart that beat its giddy prison
As if the exulting joy new-sprung within it
Would out and fill the world ! . . . . .

.

It is no dream?

Wed him to-morrow!

So suddenly a wife! Will it seem modest,
With but twelve hours of giddy preparation
To come a bride to church! Will he remember
I was ten years ago affianced to him?

I have had time to think on't!

Oh, I'll tell him-

When I dare speak, I'll tell him—how I've loved him!
And day and night dreamed of him, and through all
The changing wars treasured the solemn troth
Broke by my father! If he listens kindly,
I'll tell him how I fed my eyes upon him
In Venice at his triumph-when he walked
Like a descended god beside the Doge,

Who thanked him for his victories, and the people,
From every roof and balcony, by thousands

Shouted out,

"Sforza! Live the gallant Sforza !" I was a child then-but I felt my heart

Grow, in one hour, to woman!

Page. Would it please you To hear my new song, lady? Bian. No, good Giulio!