io_.--I wish to hear from yourself the history of that parting, and
what could make it so hard and painful to you.

_Titus_.--While I served in Palestine under the auspices of my father,
Vespasian, I became acquainted with Berenice, sister to King Agrippa, and
who was herself a queen in one of those Eastern countries. She was the
most beautiful woman in Asia, but she had graces more irresistible still
than her beauty. She had all the insinuation and wit of Cleopatra,
without her coquetry. I loved her, and was beloved; she loved my person,
not my greatness. Her tenderness, her fidelity so inflamed my passion
for her that I gave her a promise of marriage.

_Scipio_.--What do I hear? A Roman senator promise to marry a queen!

_Titus_.--I expected, Scipio, that your ears would be offended with the
sound of such a match. But consider that Rome was very different in my
time from Rome in yours. The ferocious pride of our ancient republican
senators had bent itself to the obsequious complaisance of a court.
Berenice made no doubt, and I flattered myself that it would not be
inflexible in this point alone. But we thought it necessary to defer the
completion of our wishes till the death of my father. On that event the
Roman Empire and (what I knew she valued more) my hand became due to her,
according to my engagements.

_Scipio_.--The Roman Empire due to a Syrian queen! Oh, Rome, how art
thou fallen! Accursed be the memory of Octavius Caesar, who by
oppressing its liberty so lowered the majesty of the republic, that a
brave and virtuous Roman, in whom was vested all the power of that mighty
state, could entertain such a thought! But did you find the senate and
people so servile, so lost to all sense of their honour and dignity, as
to affront the great genius of imperial Rome and the eyes of her tutelary
gods, the eyes of Jupiter Capitolinus, with the sight of a queen--an
Asiatic queen--on the throne of the Caesars?

_Titus_.--I did not. They judged of it as you, Scipio, judge; they
detested, they disdained it. In vain did I urge to some particular
friends, who represented to me the sense of the Senate and people, that a
Messalina, a Poppaea, were a much greater dishonour to the throne of the
Caesars than a virtuous foreign princess. Their prejudices were
unconquerable; I saw it would be impossible for me to remove them. But I
might have used my authority to silence their murmurs. A liberal
donative to the sol