THE ROMAN REVENGE. A TRAGEDY. By AARON HILL, Esq
Sold by M. Mechell, at the King's arms in Fleet-street; and likewise to be had at the Booksellers of London and Westminster. M,DCC,LIII. Price one Shilling and Six-pence.]
PROLOGUE.
TELL me, ye matchless Fair! Ye fearless Brave!
Is there
one Briton— born to be a
Slave?
No.—While
your Prince half
Europe's Ri
[...]hts maintains,
Nor Souls, nor Bodies, here, can stoop to Chains.
Angels, and
Englishmen, like Homage, pay:
Bow, but, from Love,—and, but by Choice obey:
I oyal, to keason's Rights, not Slavery's Awe,
The Sons of Freedom serve the Kings, of Law.
Act, with no Clogs on Sense, no Clouds on Art,
But let in Truth's whole Light, to hear the Heart.
Such, once, was
Rome-to Strength, not Luxury, train'd:
Then Liberty was Hers, and Virtue reign'd:
Safe, in her own felt Power, and bluntly brave,
She scorn'd alike to
be— or
make— a Slave.
No puny
Popeling, yet, Man's Birth-right
Stole:
Foe, to th' invaded Empire—of the
SOUL!
Plain, prideless Rule bound short Ambition's Plea:
But left Thought, Art, Faith, Hope, and Conscience
free.
Far other Fame was hers, when
Church-craft reign'd,
Then, every
Cherub's Face, with Gall, was stain'd:
Sweet-ey'd Religion,
sow'rd, by priestly Leaven,
Frown'd on pale Peace—and shook her
Keys at Heaven.
More than her Maker's Rights, She found
too small,
And murmur'd, that his Grants cou'd give
—but ALL.
Wil'd, Inconsistent, Blasphemous, and Vain,
Revers'd God's Laws—to propogate his Reign!
Her Creeds taught Curses.—Her proud Schools Debate
Nothing, but Fool, a Flattery, 'scap'd her Hate.
She
lov'd Obedience,—but she lov'd it,
blind:
And, safelier to subdue,
debas'd Mankind.
No Pardon, there, let
Britain's Sins presume;
Freedom, and Truth, are
HERETICS—at
Rome.
Religion's Dark
[...]ners will no Reverence feel
For Faith, that bears no Craft, and blinds no Zeal:
Learning, uncurb'd by Cant; Truth, wash'd from Wiles,
An Earth, that Reasons—and a Heaven that smiles:
Homage, that no Sedition can betray,
Yet Liberty, that laughs at lawless Sway.
Such had the World's vain Mistress, then, been fram'd,
When this Night's Story
Rome's Attention claim'd;
Freedom had nurs'd no Son, to blast her Reign,
And
Caesar had a Soul, without one Stain.
Persons Represented.
MEN.
- Julius Caesar, Dictator.
- Marcus Brutus, his Son by Servilia, but not knowing himself to be so.
- Marc Antony, Consul of Rome.
- Ta [...]bilius; A Roman Poet, favour'd by Brutus.
-
- Cassius,
- C [...]ber,
- De [...]mus,
- Casca,
- Cinna,
- Marcellus,
- Trinovantius, A British Tribune, faithful to Caesar.
- Curio A Roman Tribune, in his Confidence.
- An Augur: Officers, Lictors, and Plebeians.
WOMEN.
- Calphurnia, Cae [...]ar's Wife.
- Portia, Wife to Brutus.
- Flavia, A Lady, Attendant on Calphurnia.
SCENE. The Capital, and Places adjoing.
[Page]THE ROMAN REVENGE.
ACT 1.
SCENE 1.
A Hall in
Caesar's House.
CASSIUS. TORBILIUS. (Crossing.)
CASSIUS.
STAY!
turn!—The imperfect Dawn deceives my Sight,
Or, 'tis
Torbilius.
TORBILIUS.
Cassius:
CASSIUS.
He!—How comes it,
I meet thee, in the House of hated
Caesar!
TORBILIUS.
Portia, to-night, was frighted, in a Dream;
And, hast'ning hither, to alarm
Calphurmia,
Call'd for my Hand, to guide her.
CASSIUS.
In the
Forum.
[Page 2] Expect strong Clash, this Morning.
TORBILIUS.
Will Caesar,
then,
Be
King.
CASSIUS.
He will—yet, Dreams of a to-morrow.
TORBILIUS.
So dies, our Plot abortive.
CASSIUS.
Rather, die
Caesar!
Fix
Brutus ours—and yon pale—rising Sun
Shall drink the Tyrant's Blood, before its setting.
TORBILIUS.
Speak softly.—'Tis an unsafe Scene, for Treason.
CASSIUS.
Not now.—The House is
Desart.—Every Eye,
Busied remote, strays upward, from the Grove;
Hard, thro' dim Dawn, the Patient
Augurs pore,
Watchful to teach mysterious Birds, to
lie,
And mock insulted Heaven, to flatter
Caesar.
TORBILIUS.
Wait
you the
Auguries?
CASSIUS.
Away—light Questioner!
Brutus, and I, with more tame
Slaves, call'd
Senators,
Last Night, beseeching Audience,
kingly Caesar
Told us, fair Meanings shun'd the Shade of Night,
And bad us, when Day rose, attend his Pleasure:
I came a willing Hour too soon—for, oh!
Such a Discovery!—Such Intelligence!
TORBILIUS.
Whence flows it?
CASSIUS.
[Page 3]
Whence do all Court Secrets flow?
Kings
trust their Minions—and King-Blasters
bribe 'em:
Caesar, to-night, sat writing, till alarmed,
He heard
Calphurnia shriek, and rose to aid her.
Left, in his Closet, lay a half transcrib'd,
And strangely—purpos'd WILL:—wherein
who (think'st thou)
But
Brutus!—Our last Hope
—Rome's freeborn
Brutus!
Is nam'd the Tyrant's SON! and Heir of Empire!
TORBILIUS.
In Form of
Will adopted?
CASSIUS.
Direly; adopted!
Own'd his true natural-born decendant Son,
By
Cato's solemn Sister!—Curse her Hypocrisy!
'Twas Ruin—to the Hopes of
Rome, and Liberty.
TORBILIUS.
What Bribe had Power, to force a Friend from
Caesar.
CASSIUS.
Thy Friend, and mine—imperial
Gold!—more Eloquent,
Than ten smooth
Caesars! bought a true
King-Server
From his Lord's Bosom,—Opportunely near,
He caught the inviting Moment:—left his Covert,—
Read—started—sent to press my early coming,
And, private here, in the still dusk, discolosed it.
TORBILIUS.
Gods! What persidious Friendships cheat Mankind!
CASSIUS.
Laugh, and be wise.—So, to betray, gives
Greatness.
—Forget not thou, mean-while, to speed thy Charge:
Prepare cold
Brutus for the Day's Impression:
Swell him, with all his prais'd Forefather's Pride;
[Page 4] Fume his enhaling Soul with Flatte'ry's Incence,
And share divided
Rome's best Hopes, with
Cassius
TORBILIUS.
Why must
Rome's Hopes depend on
One Man's Aid?
CASSIUS.
All Men are Ours in
Brutus.—Thou, and I,
And every
Roman, leagu'd, to cut off
Caesar,
Hate Caesar.—Every burning Breast, but His,
Has sep'arate, inselt, private Cause, for
Malice:
Who will believe, we strike for
Rome.—So known,
So mark'd, malignant to the Name of
Caesar?
Brutus is
Caesar's
Idol!—and loves
Caesar!
His Aid will consecrate Revenge to Virtue.
He can, when
Caesar bleeds, turn Tears to Triumph,
And blot the whitest Star, that lights his Character.
TORBILIUS.
But this is Baseness,
Cassius!—grant it needful,
The
Man shou'd die—why must we kill his
Virtues?
Why, to oppose his reigning, must we rob
His natural Rights?—why shade the Soul, he shines by?
No—let us own the Beauties of his
Heart:
Weeping, confess his Brave'ry, Tempe'rence, Pity,
Long patient Courtings of rejected Peace—
Yet—dreadful Darings, in Contempt of Danger?
Else, we shall spot
Laws Face, with Marks of
Envy,
Treating this vastness of a Mind, like Heaven's,
As if keen-ey'd for Guilt, but blind to Goodness.
CASSIUS.
Perish his Goodness!—grind my Ear no more
With his curst
Qualities:—I hate his
Power:
[Page 5] I hate myself—hate
Rome—hate Life, Joy, Victory,
Hate every Hope, but one.—to make
Him feel,
That slighted
Cassius drew down Fate on
Caesar.
This let me live to teach him
—Then,—tho'
Rome,
Sunk, round me, till her tumbling Capital
Smoak'd, for my funeral Pile.—'Twere Death, with
Glory.
TORBILIUS.
Cassius! my Soul, less fiery, cannot strain
Resentment into Frenzy:—In my Sense,
Reason, not Rage, shou'd measure Plotter's Passions.
Be temperate, or
CASSIUS.
Hastily.
By Heaven! he comes! you Gallery
Sounds, with his Step.—The holy Farce is ended:
Poet,—farewell.—
Exit
Cassius.
TORBILIUS.
alone.
Farewell, detested Envy!
Motives like thine, turn Justice into Murder.
Something shall, strait, be done.—Caesar! be safe:
He, who forgave my Guilt, demands my Virtue.
Exit.
SCENE II.
CAESAR, Preceded by Lictors, and Officers, and follow'd at some Distance, by an Augur.
AUGUR.
Caesar! imperial
Caesar! hear the
Gods.
CAESAR.
Go:—Thou art known.—The Gods, thou serv'st, are Senators:
AUGUR.
Rest, from this fatal
March, restrain'd by Heaven,
And, by such unpropitious Auguries, warn'd.
CAESAR.
Shame on your
pious Frauds! they tire Indulgence.
AUGUR.
Check not the Voice of Truth: 'twas form'd, for Plainness.
CAESAR.
Own it with conscious Shame.—If Truth loves Plainness.
Why are the God's clear Wills perplex'd, by Art?
AUGUR.
Speaks
Rome's high
Pontiff This?
CAESAR.
He does, bold
Augur!
'To rescue Zeal, from Pride's unhallow'd Claim;
That
robs, to reve'rence Heaven.
AUGUR.
Heaven calls for Faith.
CAESAR.
How dare you, then, make Infidels, by Falsehood?
Wou'd you, o're Reason, stretch the Chain of Faith,
Gild it, with Heaven's broad Light: Touch the taught
Heart.
Nobly, speak out:—and tell th' attracted World,
Nothing is from the Gods, that shakes Man's Honesty.
AUGUR.
Oh! stay thy fatal March—change thy rash Views;
Bid thy rais'd Eagles fall the expanded Wing:
[Page 7]
Air's plumy People, screaming from the Left,
Stoop in their Flight, to warn Thee:—Omens on Omens,
Bode unauspecious Doom—and teem, with Death.
CAESAR.
No more.
Augur
the Gods
Caesar
away—I know 'em, best,
Who know 'em Friends to Virtue.—
AUGUR.
Virtue is
Liberty.
The Foes of Freedom can attract no
Gods,
To prop their falling Standards;—Heaven beglooms
Thy Star, with some dire Fate:—but
what, is Darkness.
CAESAR.
Go: search it, in the
Air,—and, if thou find'st it,
Arm'd, in its ugliest Menace, bring it hither.—
When Screams of Birds can shake a Soldier's Heart,
Thou shalt lead
Priests to fight, for feeble
Rome,
And lend their
Arts, to
Caesar.
AUGUR.
Tremble.—
CAESAR.
Away.
Exit
Augur.
SCENE III.
CAESAR alone.
CAESAR.
I
wou'd, be
happy.—Why, then, am I
Great?
Men, who desert their Peace, to serve their Glory,
Toil, for the
Malice of oblig'd Mankind:
[Page 8] Yet—weigh, warm Heart, impartially sincere,
Whence Opposition Springs—and Love its Boldness.
Why claim I Power Supreme?—was Empire—mine?
Freedom is every
Roman's native Right;
And every
Roman Voice demands it back,
Where Power's, unjustly, held—the
Opposer's just:
But,—where even Freedom is, by Choice,
corrupt,
How fruitless—to redeem the
willing Slave.
Can I recall the
Dead?—Rome gives up
Rome;
The cheapen'd Varlets rate their venal Votes,
And sell their Soul's Redeemer.—Sleep, Ambition?
How easier 'tis to
save, than
mend, a People!
Fall, servile
Rome!—No.
—Rome is
Caesar's Country.
And, who dares
injure, where he's born—to
save?
Foes! wrong me on—till pardon'd into Friends:
Busy, for Greatness, I'll neglect Revenge;
Take Envy in Reward, and make it Fame.
What new, kind Fear, alarms thy Lady's Love?
Enter
Flavia frighted.
FLAVIA.
Danger, most instant, she wou'd, now, impart,
E're
Cassius, and his proud Confederates come—
Those Enemies of all her Hopes—and
Gaesar!
CAESAR.
Go: tell her,
Caesar dreads no Enemies,
But those,
Her selt Afflictions teach to wound him.
Exit
Flavia.
CAESAR.
Kneeling.
Hear me,
Thou! self-producing, dark, first Cause!
All-ruling! all-evading! aweful Power,
Whom, under various Names, blind worship seeks!
[Page 9] If, till compell'd, I drew the public Sword,
Sheath'd, in my Bosom, let the Guilty fall!
rises
But, if brib'd Hopes, or partial Sense of Liberty,
Sovereign'd, a
Senate, o'er a Nation,
Slaves:
Then, Tyranny (assum'd, to bar a Tyrant)
Gave
Rome five Hundred Kings—lest one shou'd reign.
If I
must war—be edg'd my Sword, for Glory:
Better to
hold, than
bear tyrannic Sway:
Where
but the Great are free—Reason's, a Slave,
SCENE IV.
CALPHURNIA, to CAESAR, (ent'ring hastily.)
CALPHURNIA.
Caesar! my Life!—my Love!
CAESAR.
my Soul's soft Care!
Thou tremblest!—Some new Vision has alarm'd Thee.
CALPHURNIA.
Heaven is alarm'd—for Virtue sleeps, in Danger.
CAESAR.
Rest, from thy Dreams, by
Day—thou dear Intruder!
Fears, and Affections, are for happier Hours:
War, and our Country's Cares, demand us, now.
CALPHURNIA.
Can you be deaf to Warnings, from the
Gods?
Portia came, trembling, from a dreadful Dream,
That proves mine ominous.
CAESAR.
What has she dreamt?
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 10]
Frighted, she saw her Father's ent'ring Shadow
Glide thro' her Chamber, in a dusky Ray:
Stopping, it fix'd a pale, and empty Eye,
Spoke, in a thin, faint, death-denoting Voice,
And pierc'd her to the Soul.
—Portia, Thou'rt mine,
Th' unbodied Phantom cry'd.
—Brutus no more
Thy Lord—nor Caesar Rome's.—It said, and pass'd,
And melted into Air, and flow'd away.
CAESAR.
The night-born Tremblings of a timid Love,
Unstedfasted by Reason!
CALPHURNIA.
Be it no more!—
Yet, see not these dire Men:—They find, and dread
Their Power's Destruction, in the Crown of
Caesar.
Hence, have their plotting Fears, this Day, combin'd,
To blast thy Purpose—or, cut short thy Life.
Soft knocking at the Door.
CAESAR.
Go, with thy medling Tenderness.—They come;
Anon, thou shalt be heard:
CALPHURNIA.
—One Word indulge me:
E're to the People's public Voice propos'd,
Plebian Votes permit this Crown to
Caesar,
Hear a sad Secret, my touch'd Heart wou'd tell Thee.
CAESAR.
Give thyself Peace.—I
will.
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 11]
May all
Rome's Gods,
In pity of her Fate, defend, and bless thee.
Exit
Calphurnia, meeting
Antony who bows to her, in passing.
SCENE. V.
CAESAR, MARC ANTONY.
ANTONY.
Health, and a length of happy Days to
Caesar!
Freedom, and Faction join, to crown him King.
CAESAR.
Who wou'd be King of Faction,
Antony?
Monarchs, by Freedom crown'd, reign Kings, indeed!
ANTONY.
Why checks that boding Sigh, the public Joy?
What is there, in the Course of worldly Dread,
That thy great Heart can Sigh for?
CAESAR.
—For a
Friend
ANTONY.
No Friend to
Caesar needs a Sigh, in
Rome.
CAESAR.
Oh,
Antony!—who wou'd not sigh, in
Rome,
That thinks of her lost Virtues.
ANTONY.
—If there lives
One, who not hates Oppression, let him love
Rome, and her Virtues.—Both grown false, and hateful.
CAESAR.
Hate not the Guilty, but the guilt, my
Antony:
[Page 12] Ne're shall thy Soul expand, in public Love,
Till it can bear, and pardon, private Wrongs.
ANTONY.
When Slander stings us, what shou'd Sufferers do?
CAESAR.
Invulnerably Faultless, shame Detraction.—
Why shou'd th'ungrounded Slanders of th' Unjust,
Provoke us, to
deserve 'em?—Late, when here
We met, I told thee,
Caesar, had a
Son.
ANTONY.
If I forsake thy Race
—Caesar
swear nothing,
Antony
Exacting Oaths, I must suspect Deceit:
And he, who trusts the doubted, cheats
Himself.
ANTONY.
But who?—what Star of
Rome is
Caesar's
—Son!
CAESAR.
Suppose it
Brutus.—
ANTONY.
Starting.
—Every God renounce him!
CAESAR.
What God renounces Excellence, in Man?
ANTONY.
Brutus is hard, and stern.—and, what
is Man,
Who cannot weep
for Man—and feel, for Nature?
CAESAR.
Servilia was, in secret, vow'd my Wife,
When
Cato, whose austere, and captious Virtue,
Repell'd even
Virtue—if it cross'd his own
Jealous of our Assistance,—yet, undreaming,
How far one soft, stol'n, amo'rous Hour had borne us,
[Page 13] Snatch'd the succeeding Day, and, in my Absence,
Forc'd her, distracted, to a
Brutus's Arms.
ANTONY.
What mean the wanton Powers, who license Chance,
To shame thee, with a Son, unlike, as
Brutus!
Sedition, will not hear, the call of Blood:
Intractably morose, it shuts out Pity,
And starves Humanity, to cherish Pride.
CAESAR.
Time, that transforms us all, shall win back
Brutus.
ANTONY.
Time's Comqueror might reclaim him.
CAESAR.
Who's that?
ANTONY.
—Death.
CAESAR.
How!—To
whom speak'st thou this?
ANTONY.
—To Man.
CAESAR.
—Be one.
And, when thou speak'st again—speak, to the
Father.
ANTONY.
If I offended
—Caesar can be partial.
CAESAR.
No.—For, I see thee honest, through thy Error.
ANTONY.
I thought, Revenge of Wrongs was right of Nature.
CAESAR.
Men think but to the Limits of their Minds.
For me—despising Wrongs, I shun Severity.
ANTONY.
[Page 14]
Yet, sure! Allenvied Greatness, wou'd be
safe.
CAESAR.
Greatness is safest, when it dares
forgive.
ANTONY.
Rome hates your Power.
CAESAR.
Then, she shall love my
Mercy.
ANTONY.
I can but wish thee bless'd:—And, still, serve on.
CAESAR.
Come, thou shalt
aid me.—Thou hast lent thy Arm
To conquer Nations for me:—Conquer
Brutus:
Teach him, that noblest Courage shuns to hate:
Charm him, to taste the Power of
gentle Sway;
New humanize his Heart, to
thy soft Model,
And graft Politeness on his Savage Virtue.
ANTONY.
When
Caesar bids—his
Antony obeys:
Had
Brutus been
my Son—I, too, had hop'd.
Enter CURIO.
CURIO.
Caesar!—th' expected Lords'
CAESAR.
Admit 'em,
Curio.
Exit Curio
SCENE VI.
Caesar, seated:
Antony, Brutus, Cassius, Cimber, Decimus, Casca, Cinna, Marcellus, advancing to their Seats.
CAESAR.
Health to the Jealous for their Country's Freedom;
Caesar's Distrusters, welcome!
—Cimber! Decimus!
Marcellus! Gasca! Cassius! Brutus!—All!
This Day, the Senate sits: quick, therefore, teach me
The previous Purpose of your offer'd Zeal.
BRUTUS.
Rome dreads to lose her
Caesar, in a King.
CAESAR.
What wou'd you do with this fam'd
Sybil's
Prophesy?
How check the public
Terror?—Must I march
With trembling Legions, unsustain'd at Heart,
And desperate, from Defect of, but a
Name?
By Oracles fore-doom'd for
Parthia's Fall?
Cassius, you
smile.—The
Great should judge the Great:
For, never mean Man's Thoughts out-stretch'd his
Feeling:
Speak,
Brutus—were
your Choice your General's Leader,
What wou'd you wish him
called?
BRUTUS.
Rome call'd him
—Consul.
CAESAR.
Rome did so—but, when superstitious Dread
Of hostile Arms has damp'd a Nation's Fire,
Changes, which tend to raise dejected Hope,
Are
Wisdom.
BRUTUS.
[Page 16]
Wisdom has its
Fears.—
CAESAR.
—Speak boldly:
Attentive, even from
Foes, to borrow Benefit,
I court Suspicion's Gall, to aid my Judgment,
With all th' instructive Doubts of Men, who
hate me.
BRUTUS.
No Foe has
Caesar—but his
Crown has many.
ANTONY.
King, was a Title, aweful, anicent, sacred.
CIMBER.
Rising.
Plain Truth is a blunt Talker—never, rash Consul.
Never did
Sylla, Marius, Pompey,—Never,
In all the Boldness of usurp'd Command,
Dare the shun'd
Name—howe'er they grasp'd the
Power:
Nor challenge kingly Style, in freeborn
Rome.
But Liberty, perhaps, becomes too bold.
CAESAR.
True Liberty is bold, without Presumption:
And, without Flattery, gentle.
—Cassius, be heard.
CASSIUS.
Raising.
Caesar has
sworn, to guard our ancient Rights;
Sworn, to uphold one sole Supreme—the
Law:
Caesar unperjur'd,
Rome can fear no
King.
CAESAR.
Malice, disguis'd in Counsel,—Keep it,
Cassius:
Permitted Slander is a
willing Tax,
That patient Power pays, to the Rights of Liberty.
DECIMUS.
[Page 17]
rising
Be
Caesar King—but, still, let
Rome be free!
CAESAR.
A plain Man's honest Prayer.
—Brutus why dumb?
BRUTUS.
rising mournfully.
I must be dumb, if neutral:—but, compell'd
To
speak, disdain to speak, unlike a
Roman:
What helps it to
Rome's Friends, if
Rome wears Fetters,
That Foes, in
Asia, join, to drag her Chain?
Leave
Parthea safely fierce:—Dangers remote
Touch but our
Fears—Domestick Ones are
felt.
CAESAR.
Brutus! Thou err'st, undreaming it.
—Thou, Cassius,
Art, knowingly, an unmisled Misleader:
Thy Passions fram'd the Pile:—good
Decimus,
Marcellus, Cimber, and such
live Materials,
Buttress thy factious Building:—'Tis in vain,
To reason with the
Partial: Men, who call
Their own corrected Pride, the public Danger;
Else, I wou'd say, to Minds, that could reflect,
Be Freemen
among Freemen.—hard Controul
Breaks a wrong'd People's Spirits, into Slaves,
Or, spur's 'em into Rebell's.—'Tis dishonest:
What Right have we to Freedom, not alike
The Property, ev'n of the
Poorest Roman?
BRUTUS.
When fed the lab'ring
Ox, abreast the
Lion?
CAESAR.
How venal is all
Rome!—Her every
Senator
Sold, to his Passion's Biddings.
—Brutus is sold
To Pride,—to avarice, some:—These
Envy draw;
[Page 18] Those
Fear;—in Others, hopes of promis'd Power
Warp the Dependent Will, to crooked Reasonings;
Loose, as the Bribes, that bought 'em.
CASSIUS.
—Voices, Caesar!
Are, sometimes, sold—where
Hands retain their Liberty.
CAESAR.
True—Angry
Cassius!—But, the
Head, misguiding,
Hands will mistake the Mark, and wound
Themselves.
How soon have you forgot
Pharsalia's Field?
CASSIUS.
Fortune decided,
there:—At
Rome, 'tis
Law,
CAESAR.
Fortune decided strangely
Caius Cassius!
If I, by having conquer'd, must
obey,
And you, from being beaten, claim
Command!
ANTONY.
rising with
Emotion.
Aften such sierce, unveil'd, presumtuous Menace,
Rome must forget,
ferever, to obey,
Or
Caesar, once, to pardon.
CAESAR.
to
Cassius.
—Cassius, it grieves me,
That Thou compell'st a Sentence, too severe,
rises
Since Mercy serves but to excite Offence,
And Bounty spurs Ingratitude—be
—safe:—
Sunk, to the Shelter of a wrong'd Man's
Pity,
Too feeble to provoke.—Escape Revenge.
comes forward
BRUTUS
[Page 19]
holding him.
Call it no Crime, to apprehend Distress!
If Liberty offends, and Truth grows Treason,
Thank Heaven, the most dejected Slave, on Earth,
Holds Priviledge to
die.—But
Caesar frowns!
Note it, attentive Gods! and wake, for Freedom!
Imperial
Caesar frowns!—
Rome's Master frowns—
That Opposition speaks uncourtly Truth.
turning to
go.
CAESAR.
No more.—The Rest, when in full
Senate, met:—
Till then, farewell.—
Exeunt Senators.
—Stay
Consul,—Brutus—stay.
SCENE VII.
CAESAR. BRUTUS. ANTONY.
CAESAR.
—after a long Look, fix'd carnestly upon Brutus,
Maxims, inhumam, fierce, and blind, like Thine,
Disgrace a Freeman's Name.
Brutus turns
to go
—Stay, I command Thee;
Return, rash Man—and know—'tis
Caesar, calls.
BRUTUS.
returning.
All my adhering Heart feels
Caesar, King,
Leave but
Rome's Senate free, devoted
Brutus
Shall rest thy willing Slave.—
CAESAR.
Proud, as Thou art
Of Liberty, thou hast not learnt, that Freedom,
Beyond all Yokes, hates, most, this Yoke of
Prejudice,
And let us argue, like unbiass'd
Romans:
Thou talk'st of Rights
—Rome's Rights:—are not the People
The assembled People; ROME? Is not Law
Theirs?
Counsel, that, not complied with, would
compell,
Turns Law to
Tyranny.
BRUTUS.
Shall
Tumult reign?
Shall high-born
Senates serve, and Groundlings
govern?
CAESAR.
No.—Mark the
Senate's Bounds—and mark the People's:
Foresight, and Guardian Care, and weigh'd Advice.
Debated Means, and Remedies propos'd,
These and these
only, are the SENATE's Rights:
Propounded Laws accepted, or refus'd,
This is the PEOPLE's Claim: and
both are
Rome.
BRUTUS.
Thanks to the Gods,
Rome boasts some Patriots, still.
CAESAR.
Yes—grasping Hopes undue and check'd of Aim,
Patriots, in Aid of Vengeance! they combine,
To
clog the Wheels, they can no longer guide:
Hiding low-self, behind the Public Cause,
They Murmur, till they purchase private Ease,
Then, License General Pain, to curse Mankind.
BRUTUS.
Held not the
Senate S
[...]ale most Weight, in
Rome?
CAESAR.
[Page 21]
Rome felt it,
Brutus—till my Arms relive'd her.
BRUTUS.
He, who, by Arms, rules Freemen, teaches
Slaves—
By Arms, to rule that Ruler.
CAESAR.
Trust a try'd Sword.
BRUTUS.
Curse its bold Use—in any Hand, but
Caesar's,
When, to the vulgar Herd, it levels Nobles,
Born, to be Great—and mixes Hinds with
Consuls.
CAESAR.
Born did'st thou say?—mark, how thy partial Pride,
Barring the Gates of Hope, wou'd shut out Merit!
No Man was ever
Born, but
form'd to Greatness:
Who, but aspiring—Hinds—were
—Rome's first Fathers?
Unvulgar Spirit rais'd their Deeds to Fame,
And, thence, unvulgar
Reverence mark'd 'em
Noble.
—But, in our Hands, diminish'd Honour Shrinks
To bare
Degree,—and shames the Rights of
Rank.
Heaven!—what a difference 'twixt
Old Rome, and
Ours?
Our first fam'd Ancestors
gave worth—to Blood:—
We, from a worthless
Birth, wou'd
steal Distinction.
Pensions, with us, take Place:—with them, 'twas Virtue.
Our Av'rice Plunders Friends: Their conquering Bounty
Took nothing, ev'n from Foes—but Power of Insult.
BRUTUS.
Grant us less worthy; still Their Claims are Ours:
And Sons, who basely quit their Father's Rights,
Deserve to live, like Slaves—or die, like Traitors.
CAESAR.
[Page 22]
Fie!—let us Blush, to name our Father's Right's,
Who leave their Claim to Honesty,
forgot!
BRUTUS.
Oft, in sunk States, when Power presumes, on
Vice,
New Crimes call out new
Virtues.
CAESAR.
Rome's new Virtues
Match her new Maxims: Mark their Grandeur,
Brutus
Active, in other's Industry, we build,—
Race, Game, Dress, Dance, Feast, and drink deep, for Glory:
Ours are the
Tastes of Life: Let
humbler States
Learn its lean
Duties:—We, to lighten Joy,
Have, elegantly painless! cast off Care:—
Hunger, and Thirst, and loose Desires—anticipate:
Posponing nothing—but Thought, Fame, and Justice.
Vallies we teach to rise: O'er levell'd Hills
Stretch the tir'd Sight:—But, inward turn no Eye:
Ourselves the darkest Part of our own Prospect.
Well say they,
Rome is chang'd.
—'Tis chang'd, indeed!
Women are chang'd to Men,—and Men to Women.
Anger has chang'd its Mark:
—Roman's shock
Roman's,
Yet, tame to
Parthian Insults, hold back Vengeance,
That Robbers may have Rest,—and Bribery Leisure.
ANTONY.
To Sons of Faction, screen'd but by
Rome's
Crimes,
Why name we
Roman Virtues?
BRUTUS.
—On
Thy Voice
Dwells Eloquence, that make ev'n Error charming,
O, too persuasive
Caesar!—But Thou,
Antony,
Live,—a King's Slaves,
—Brutus shall die—a
Roman.
Exit.
SCENE VIII.
CAESAR. ANTONY.
ANTONY.
after a
Pause.
Now, Caesar! what deserve such
Romans?
CAESAR.
after a short
Pause.
—Freedom.
ANTONY.
They are
too f
[...]ee, who treat their
Friends, with Insult,
CAESAR.
If Man were plac'd above the Reach of Insult.
To Pardon, were no Virtue:—Think, warm
Antony,
What Mercy
is—'Tis daring to be wrong'd,
Yet, unprovok'd by Pride, persist in Pity.
ANTONY.
Power, that endures Contempt,
invites Rebellion,
CAESAR.
Dream not, that Moderation weakens Power:
The heart-felt Sovereign smiles, at Faction's Rage;
And those malignant Men, who hate unjustly,
We punish most, when we are most belov'd.
ANTONY.
What Prince, who was not
fear'd, was, eyer, safe?
CAESAR.
Only, in War, he shoud be
fear'd.—In Peace, be
honour'd Antony.
ANTONY.
Even Self-defence requires, at least, that bloody
Cassius fall.
CAESAR.
[Page 24]
Why shou'd I strike the
Weak, who cannot wound me▪
ANTONY.
Punish the guilty
Will, that dar'd
imagine.
CAESAR.
So
Minions teach
tame Kings, to merit
Hate.
ANTONY.
Where Kings suspect,
—preventing, they secure.
CAESAR.
Scorn to
suspect, where thou woud'st scorn to
fear.
Nor waste, on ev'ry slight and weak Offence,
The
Dignity of Vengeance.—I will, anon,
Trust
Brutus with his Birth: Nature must move him.
If not—I leave him to the Gods, and Time.
ANTONY.
Shall he
oppose, yet,
wear his Father's Crown?
CAESAR.
Shou'd Life allot me Hope, to stretch
Rome's Soul
To Latitude for Liberty—'twere more
Than Empire, to restore her.—If the Task,
Hard, and extensive, calls for lengthening Years,
While, in untimely Hour, I, distant, die,
Brutus, by this last Light, will judge my Purpose.
gives a Paper.
ANTONY.
Long may the Gods, preserving
Caesar's Life,
Protect his Purposes, from Care, not
Caesar's.
CAESAR.
Life has too short a Reach, for long Designs:
And, oft, the Fruit not ripe, the Tree declines:
No Help unneedful, Man shou'd
all purfue,
Lest Time slide from him,—and his Hopes die, too.
End of the First
ACT.
ACT. II.
SCENE I.
A Room in Caesar's
House. Two Chairs plac'd: Calphurnia, Flavia.
CALPHURNIA.
GO,
Flavia;—spread Enquiry through the Palace:
While I, prolonging Time, by every Art
Of apprehensive Love, hold
Caesar, fix'd
In Conference, till slow
Torbilius comes:
Fittest Reporter of his own sad Tale,
To force Belief, and fire reluctant Vengeance.
CAESAR.
without
Where is this bosom Counseller of
Caesar?
CALPHURNIA.
Fly—find
Torbilius:—when he comes, touch soft
My Silver Bell, that the known Sound may war me.
Exit
Flavia.
CAESAR.
Tis past,
Calphurnia.—The try'd Faction's hatred
Repell'd obtruded Candor.
CALPHURNIA.
Shun thy Forgiveness?
CAESAR.
Men, of contracted Views, distrust
kind Meanings;
For, no Heart credits, what it cannot feel.
What frightful
Story has my Dreamer, now?
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 26]
A sad, and dreadful Truth.-No Dream-No Doubting:
He, whose dire Property the Secret rests,
Guardian of
Caesar's Life, demands his Ear.
For me—I cou'd but speak my Fears, and Follies.
CAESAR
Follies have Charms, when Fears, like thine, are follies:
Man may draw Profit, then, from Woman's Weakness:
And, in one tender Wife's mistaking Faith,
Find Recompence, for every Friend, that's
false.
they sit.
CALPHURNIA
Can there be Rest, in Danger?
CAESAR.
Sure! There shou'd not:
CALPHURNIA.
Why is Ambition, then, too hard for Peace?
Why, always busy, to be never blest,
Does restless
Caesar sacrifice, unthank'd,
The Taste, the Quiet, the
Serene, of Life,
For an ungrateful World, that hates his Bounty?
CAESAR.
'Tis the great Mind's
expected Pain,
Calphurnia
To Labour for the Thankless:—He, who seeks
Reward in Ruling, makes Ambition Guilt:
And, living for
Himself, disclaims Mankind.
CALPHURNIA.
Alas!—the Friend to
All obliges none.
CAESAR.
'Tis nobler to protect Mankind, than please.
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 27]
Is it a Crime, when Virtue loves
itself?
CAESAR.
Princes shou'd
widen self:—Their Power, and Heart,
Alike Receptive, must make room for
All:
'Tis theirs, to Sigh, for every Sufferer's Woe;
Lend their own Joys, that others may be glad:
Think ev'en for unborn Ages; and transmit
Blessings unshar'd—and quiet, not their own.
CALPHURNIA.
Virtues, so rais-d, as these, but waste their Warmth,
And shine, unfelt, in
Rome.—The Vulgar Eye
Sees, by its own low Level:—As Men
act,
They
judge: and, by corrupt Self-Interest weigh'd,
Goodness,
like Heaven's, wou'd seem Self-Interest, too.
CAESAR.
No Matter.—Virtue Triumphs, by Neglect:
Vice, while it darkens, lends but
Foil, to Brightness:
And juster Times, removing Slander's Veil,
Wrong'd Merit, after Death, is help'd to live.
CALPHURNIA.
Can present Pain be cur'd, by future Ease?
CAESAR.
Who wou'd not, once, look dim, to shine, for ever?
CALPHURNIA.
How happy is it for a Wife, who
loves,
When
lowlier Prospects bound her Lord's Desires,
And Home-felt Quiet fills his peaceful Heart!
Why wou'd you be a
King?—wait, till some King
Aspires, to be a
Caesar:—Lend not Envy
[Page 28] New Props to lean against: This threat'ning Name
Beats on the
Roman's unaccustom'd Ear,
Like a black Storm—and blasts the Hope of Liberty.
CAESAR.
Never, henceforth, disturb thy gentle Breast,
With false Forebodings, from a regal Toy!
Know me above its Want:—beyond its Glory:
Given, tho' unheld, It meets the Parthian Prophesy;
Bids the rous'd Legion's superstitious Hearts
Resume lost Ardor:—and fure Victory's, Theirs.
CALPHURNIA.
Tho'
Parthia fell, there's a
Patrician Envy,
That, never quench'd, burns but with fiercer Blaze,
From each new Proof, that Old Injustice wrong'd thee:
Taink of those Midnight Haunters of my Fancy!
Think, how I saw thee bleed, at every Vein:
While, at each spouting Stream, a murderous
Roman
Stain'd his extended Arm, and roar'd for Liberty.
Cassius!—stern
Cassius!—
starting up
—Blast him, Heaven!—methinks,
I
see him,
there,—full, in my Eyes, he glares!
Pale, in the horrid Transport of his Vengeance;
And, dreadfully, enjoys the ghastly Scene!—
Kneels.
Oh! grant thyself, to
live: Grant sad
Calphurnia
That Prayer:—She begs it, but for
Rome, and Nature.
CAESAR.
Why wilt thou kneel?-What coud'st thou ask, in vain!
CALPHURNIA.
Death—instant Death, to that malignant
Cassius!
CAESAR.
[Page 29]
Since thou were't first my Wife, I never saw thee
Cruel, till this strange Moment!—Dovelike gentle,
Healing Compassion sooth'd thy Heart, to Softness:
And, on thy sparkling Eye, sat weeping Mercy.
CALPHURNIA.
'Tis Mercy, to Mankind, to punish Villains.
CAESAR.
Rise: and relieve me, from this new Distress.
Bell rings without.
CALPHURNIA.
Rising.
I will:—And thou shalt owe to Woman's Fear
A Safety, manly Confidence had lost Thee.
CAESAR.
How art thou heated, by an idle Dream,
To strike at fansied Guilt, with real Anger!
CALPHURNIA.
The Wife of
Caesar wrongs not, even his Foes.
Flavia! Lucilia! here—who waits, without?
Enter a Lady.
The Man, with whom I held Discourse, this Morning!
Bid him Re-enter.
Exit Lady.
CAESAR.
Who!
—What Man is this?
CALPHURNIA.
Torbilius—the sow're Satirist:—Thy Enemy.—
CAESAR.
No Enemy of mine—if Wit's his Friend.
CALPHURNIA.
Once, when condemn'd, for libelling my
Caesar,
[Page 30] Thy all-permitting Mercy, not alone
Forgave—but, bad him claim distinguish'd
Bounty;
Till Wit, misled, cou'd find the way to Judgment.
CAESAR.
I know him not:—What can'st thou hope,
Calphurnid,
From these
slight Men?—So bold, yet, blind of Soul,
That Wit, with them, supplies the Place of Virtue;
And, censuring other's Faults, absolves their own.
CALPHURNIA.
Staying, when
Portia went, his trembling Gratitude.
Pray'd Audience, in a Cause, that touch'd the
Life
Of threat'ned
Caesar:—For the Rest, he comes:
Let his own Tongue retrace the horrid Tale.
SCENE II.
CAESAR, CALPHURNIA, TORBILIUS.
TORBILIUS.
Hail,
Caesar! more than Victor!—Common Conquerors
Vanquish but Power:
Caesar subdues the
Will.
CAESAR.
Why dost thou flatter!—Stranger to my Passions,
Whence wou'd thy Skill presume, to judge my Virtue?
Take heed, thou sell'st not Praise, to purchase Scorn!
Encomium is a bold, and dange'rous Province!
It calls for Reason:—Slander asks but Rage:
Who
drt Thou?—what is thy Pretence, in
Rome?
TORBILIUS.
Touch'd by the
Muse's Love, I, there, indulge
The tuneful Transports of Satiric Fire:
Rome is a fruitful Field, for
Themes, like mine!
And
Brutus, wit's kind Patron! loves my Verse.
CAESAR.
[Page 31]
Where Wit wants Patronage—a
State wants Wisdom.
Keen, tho' the Darts, by angry Genious thrown,
The Wise can
Guide 'em, while the Base
Restrain:
Satire, in honest Hands, is Murmuring Virtue:
And He, who fears its
Hiss, deserves its
Sting.
Yet, tis a dangerous, and malignant, Good!
Tho' Freedom's Property, 'tis Faction's Spoil.
Where justly bold, 'tis Reason's manliest Impulse:
Where blindly virulent, 'tis Wit's Disease.
Think, and distinguish:—Are thy Censures
weigh'd?
Dost thou Proportion Anger, to its Cause?
TORBILIUS.
Had I done that, I had not wrong'd thy Name:
I was
not just:—For, I was
Caesar's Foe.—
Can
Caesar have forgot
Torbilius Asper?
CAESAR.
Why wonder'st thou at that?—For my own Sake,
My
Friend imprints Remembrance;—but my
Foe,
For
His, shou'd be FORGOTTEN.
TORBILIUS.
Generous
Caesar,
Forgetting
me, forgets the Guilt, he pardon'd,
And Claims not his own Virtues!
CAESAR.
Roman! learn
To measure Truth, more justly:
—Benefits,
From their Receiver only, claim
Remembrance:
He, who bestows, and not
forgets—resumes 'em
TORBILIUS.
Perish the Mem'ory, and the Man, together,
When I forget such Greatnef?—
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 32]
Spare thy Words:—
And hasten to disclose thy Thanks, in Action.
CAESAR.
What know'st Thou, that deserv'd Attention, here?
TORBILIUS.
Cassius, whose Love of
Rome, is Hate of
Caesar,
Lists an implicit Clan of warm Resenters:
Men, who, with dim Discernment, tracing Liberty,
Plunge headlong in Sedition.—Among these,
He stoop'd his active Bribe'ry, ev'n to
me:
Courting my humble Aid, to influence
Brutus,
Whose Name, and Power, might Mask the Face of
Murder.
CAESAR.
Whom would they Murder?
TORBILIUS.
—Rome's last Hope, in
Caesar.
CALPHURNIA.
Now,
Caesar! now, am I an idle Dreamer?
CAESAR.
Does
Brutus know this Purpose?
TORBILIUS.
—Yet he does not:
And
Caesar, still, might guard the generous Heart
Of his belov'd: And save him, from the Vile.
All Flatter'y's full-try'd Power
Unites, to shake him:
That done, the
Tempter ply's his Master Engine;
Draws him, this Day, to meet the assassin Faction:
Then—but that Heaven defends Thee—join'd by
Brutus,
Th' encourag'd Murde'rers
strike:—not join'd
forbear.
CAESAR.
[Page 33]
If
Caesar's Death must wait, till
Brutus strikes,
His Life wou'd prove immortal!—Men, of Heat,
Like
Cassius, torture their distemper'd Reason,
To Act their Passion's Impulse:
—Brutus weighs
Desire's warm Pleas, in the cool Scale of Justice:
Finds Force, in Other's Claims, against
Himself,
And loves the Virtue. that
condemns him.
CALPHURNIA.
Go on,
Torbilius!—Set, in
Caesar's View,
What
Cassius loves; and Point us out
His Virtues.
CAESAR.
It shall not need:—He stands condemn'd, already.
CALPHURNIA.
Joyfully.
To
what condemn'd?
CAESAR.
Condemn'd to
live, Calphurnia.
CALPHURNIA.
What! and not tortur'd?
CAESAR.
—Pride's severest
Rack
Is that sharp
Mercy, which descends from
Scorn.
Think it a Fault, to fear these choleric Praters:
Their hot, slight, Threat'nings
waste themselves, in Slander;
And rail away Revenge, to gradual Peace:
But, there's a cold, slow, silent, patient Malice,
That carries
Mischief with it!—Such a Soul,
As
Brutus Acts by—had it
Will, for Murder:
Cool, in its govern'd Hate, might call for Cruelty.—
What read'st Thou?
TORBILIUS.
[Page 34]
—Silent Summoners, to Murder
These
Cassius Causes to be dropt, with Art,
Where
Brutus must be sure to find, and read 'em.
CALPHUREIA.
What wiles has Malice!
CAESAR.
Poor, and petty,
Crafts!
They want but my Regard, to lend 'em
Weight.
Returning the
Paper.
Torbilius, meet 'em:—and, with strictest Note,
Mark, what Impression
Cassius makes on
Brutus.
All, Thou canst learn of
That, be swift to bring me;
And trust the Claims of Gratitude, to
Caesar.
TORBILIUS.
The
grateful make no
Claims.—A mindful Debtor
Pays—not
obliges:—Never met, in one,
The
Poet, and the
Miser:—The same Fire,]
That sparkles, in his Fancy's native Blaze,
Glows, at his honest
Heart; and burns out Baseness:
True Genious will not—cannot; stoop to Bribes:
And He, who sells his
Passions, ne're had Wit,—
Or had it, for a Curse, unmix'd with Judgment.
CAESAR.
'Tis nobly said;—and, with a warmth, that only
Suspected Virtue feels.—Henceforth, be
mine:
On modest Merit, not to
force Reward,
Were to
degrade Supremacy.
CALPHURNIA.
Where meet They?
TORBILIUS.
[Page 35]
In the cool
Grot, behind the
Platan Grove:
There
Brutus, oft alone, and oft with Friends,
Steals an unbusied Hour, for reasoning deeply:
Or, in free Mirth, dilates the slack'ning Soul.
CALPHURNIA,
What was the appointed
Time?
TORBILIUS.
The fatal Choice,
Yet doubtful, must depend alone on
Brutus.
Some Three Hours, hence, I look to find 'em met,
CALPHURNIA.
Go, good
Tarbilius.—Wait within my Call:
For I shall Try thy Faith in
Caesar's Cause.
Exit Torbilius
SCENE III.
CAESAR, CALPHURNIA.
CALPHURNIA.
I am alarm'd. for
Brutus!
CAESAR.
Doubt him not:
CALPHURNIA.
Is he
ambitious?
CAESAR.
No,—but he is
vain.
CALPHURNIA.
Then, beyond Hope, he's lost.—Ambitious Men
Lead, and discern—but vain Ones follow, blind.
CAESAR.
Thou hast contagious Power, in that Suspicion:
[Page 36] Great Minds, on some unguarded Quarter,
weak,
Find their try'd Virtue,
there, sublimely frail:
Were
Cassius artful!—Had his Malice,
Coldness,
—Cou'd he first
praise,—and, then, attack, where warmest,
The Public-hearted
Brutus.
CALPURNIA.
Nay he does;
'Tis from that Point, he levels all his Aim.—
Who knows not
Brutus proud!—and Flattery's Art
Sets Pride at work, to
sap her own Foundation:
And pull down Character, to build up Name.
CAESAR.
Then,
Cassius merits my regard:—and dies:
Light, in
himself, he, yet, deserves but Scora:
Awak'ning Danger, in corrupted
Brutus,
He makes his own rais'd Mischief worth Revenge.
CALPHURNIA.
But, can I trust a Doubt, like this, to chance?
Th' unsure Conversion of a rash Man's Spleen?
Who knows, but, feigning Penitence,
Torbilius
Courts you to Confidence, he would betsay?
No.—It shall ne'er be said, that
Caesar's
Wife
Left
Caesar's Safety, to Another's Faith.
She, who, too lightly weighs a Husband's Danger,
Takes Arms, at Heart, against him.
CAESAR.
Trust
Torbillius,
He will deserve thy Faith:—Reflecting Minds,
By Gratitude once gain'd, relapse no more.
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 37]
Thus will I
sound his Purpose:—then, confide.—
Portia, this Morning, press'd a
Visit, from me:
Oft, thro' her Garden's private Gate, unmark'd,
Ent'ring alone, that
Grot, invites my Notice:
There, silently conceal'd, where Art-form'd Rocks
Lend jutting Umbrage to the
cavy Screen,
I
hear, what
Cassius moves:—What
Brutus yields:
This, if the Satrist dissuades:—he's
false:
This, if he aids,
Calphurnia judges
Cassius:
And
Life, or
Death, be His, as Justice Dooms.
CAESAR.
In Love, and Anger, Woman's Will is
deaf;
I know, thy gen'rous Purpose is too firm,
To let my Fears for
Thee, forbid this Danger.
Yet, while, in Dread of mine, thou dar'st thus rashly,
Be it my Care to interpose, in Thine.
Curio, the
Tribune, with a Guard, must wait Thee.
CALPHURNIA.
Their Number will detect me.
CAESAR.
No,—let
Torbilius,
Singly, and slow, unnotic'd, introduce 'em;
Thro' the lone Postern, that adjoins the Grove.
CALPHURNIA.
Bless the kind Thought!—And now, shou'd Murder dare
One
Glance, at thy dear Bosom, bloody
Cassius
Shall, on the guilty Spot, that Moment
die.
CAESAR.
Spare thy disorder'd Heart.
—Cassius is hasty!
[Page 38] But,
Brutus shall with mild Reproof, reduce
The Madman's Rage, and shame him into Safety.
I dread to
arm Thee.—Prejudice is rash.—
CALPHURNIA.
Have I been
subject, then, to rash Impressions?
CAESAR.
Thy Reason, I cou'd trust—but not thy Anger:
Religion's Curb, in He
[...]rt's, like Thine, binds surest:
Swear, by some sacred
Tye.—
CALPHURNIA.
Hear me,
whole Heaven!
By
Rome's raiss'd Fate!—By her Forefather's God's!
By aweful
Vesta's unexpiring Flame!
By
Venus, M
[...]ther of thy Race, o'
Caesar!
If Treason leaves out Time to reach thy Ear,
E're Danger catch thy Life
—Cassius shall live,
To learn his Doom from Thee.—and 'scape my Vengance.
CAESAR.
See! the concurring Gods have sent Thee
Curio!
SCENE IV.
CAESAR, CALPHURNIA, CURIO.
CURIO.
Shouts, from
[...]patient Crowds, demand a King;
And
royal
[...]aesar glads the Streets of
Rome.
CAESAR.
after writing in a Table-Book.
Curio!—Joy's flattering Sounds are loud Deceivers:—
C
[...]lphurnia's busy Fears have trac'd a Traitor,
B
[...]rn to high Rank, and fam'd for Arms, and Envy.
Go, with due Strength; guard thou the Wife of
Caesar:
Fill'd, by
her Hand, points out the guilty
Roman,
Weigh
Caesar's Life, with
His:—and be
this Warrant
Thy Sword's
Authority, to do me Right.
giving the Table-Book to Curio.
CURIO.
Where e're your Danger warrant's me to strike,
If Treason 'scape my Sword—let Flight in War,
Want—and eternal Infamy, Revenge,
The Cause of
Caesar, on his Soldier's Name!
CAESAR.
Marc
Antony return'd!
CALPHURNIA.
Curio! thy Ear.—
SCENE V.
CAESAR, ANTONY.
ANTONY.
All is prepar'd;—pale
Cassius Looks, still paler:
And starts at every
Shout, that Shakes the
Forum:
Never, henceforth, let Noise be call'd Sedition:
Rome's public Mouth outroars a
hundred Senates!
One loud Consent unites her grateful Tribes,
And
Parthia's Fall takes Date, from
Caesar's Crown.
CAESAR.
Join'd
Brutus, in that Voice.—
ANTONY.
No Roman hop'd it:
Reserves, they know, must guard the
Stoick's Gravity:
What sowre Solemnity of Look, like His,
Men, who can
laugh, as I do—jovial Thinkers!
Fram'd for their Ease, and born, to hate Affliction!
See Things, but as they
are! void of the
Wit,
That hunts for cover'd Anguish! long, sound Sleepers!
Dull, satisfied, glad Rogues! they trust their Senses,
Love their Friend's,
best: and wish, but what they want.
Brutus is deep:—dives farther into Bliss—
Shakes his superior Brow, and
pities Fools,
Who dare be
happy, against Rules of Policy,
CAESAR.
Where coud'st thou find him, now?
ANTONY.
Immur'd, at Home,
Sagely despising his good Lords,—the People:—
And shutting
Caesar's Triumph, from his Ear.
CAESAR.
Take this Occasion,
Antony, to visit him;
Bid his wish'd Presence grace thy publick Zeal!
If he declines it, sting him, to Resentment:
Watch, in that Warmth of Heart. what Thoughts escape him;
Sound the dark Depth of his Designs;—and tell him,
That to the Capitol, thou mean'st to bring me:
Rome's
Crown, by Freemen given to guard their Liberty,
ANTONY.
How noisy is that
Nothing! All its Virtue
Dwells in its Sound:—It means but covered Tyranny.
CAESAR.
Ever distinguishing Substances, from Sound:
[Page 41] There is in Liberty, what God's approve;
And only Men,
like Gods, have Taste, to share.
There is in Liberty, what Pride perverts,
To serve Sedition, and perplex Command:
True Liberty leaves all Things free,—but Guilt;
And fetters every Thing,—but Art and Virtue.
False Liberty holds nothing bound, but
Power,
And lets loose every Tye, that strengthens Law.
ANTONY.
Caesar, in Science, as in Power, Supream,
Calls Lustre, out of Darkness!—But to
Me,
What seems most strange, of Faction's strange Effects,
Is, that among those Crowds, she tempts to Mischeif,
I see
good Men, belov'd for every Virtue!
Blindly misdrawn, to
hate the peace they
wish.
CAESAR.
Boast fully blind, a Bigot's Proof is
Trust;
Faultless in Purpose, yet—his Choice unjust!
Active, that erring Zeal may Truth invade,
Enthusiast Pride obtrudes her blund'ring Aid.
Fierce to the Field, keen Disputants she draws,
Implicit Props of some unreasoning Cause!
Th' absur'd Reformer
Order overthrows,
And works up Discord—for the World's
Repose!
Jealous of Enemies, disquiets Friends,
Groans, without Wound; and without Fruit, contends,
Wildly sincere! unprevalently strong!
Struggling for Right—and introducing Wrong:
End of the Second Act.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Grand Apartment in the House of Brutus.
BRUTUS, ANTONY.
BRUTUS.
URGE it no more—I am fix'd.
ANTONY.
Think wiselier
Brutus
BRUTUS.
Consul! when bold Oppression grapples Law,
Men, who protect the Oppressor, stab the State.
ANTONY.
Men, who so roughly dare Mischarge their
Lord,
Pretending Liberty, pursue but Pride.
BRUTUS.
Caesar, however rais'd, is less than
Lord.
ANTONY.
Caesar however wrong'd, is more than Friend:
Even Gratitude has made
Respect, a Duty:
Present, or absent Thou—the Tribes will crown him.
BRUTUS.
Crown? whom?
ANTONY.
One, whom if
Brutus knew but rightly,
BRUTUS.
I fear I do!
ANTONY.
[Page 43]
No—if you did, you'd tremble.
BRUTUS.
I have already, trembled
Antony!
Trembled—to hear a
Roman tempt a
Roman,
And dare corrupt a Patrsot, yet unsold!
ANTONY.
Corrupt, I wou'd not.—All I wou'd, I dare.
BRUTUS.
The basely bold shou'd learn, to dread the Just.
ANTONY.
When
Brutus bids me dread—I hear and Smile.
BRUTUS.
Smile on your
King: Flattery was made for Thrones.
The rough, wrong'd
Roman frowns, with honest scorn.
ANTONY.
Brutus, I rev'erence
Firmness; but despise
Th' Hypocrisy of Envy! I have a heart,
That being human, feels for humankind.
I tow're not to the Gods:—Virtue, once rais'd
Above Compassion, ceases to
be Virtue:
Aiming at more than
Man, thou sink'st to less.
BRUTUS.
I wou'd be less than
King; and more than
Slave.
ANTONY.
Farewell:—rash Zealots blindly grow unjust;
And Pride inflexible,, and deaf, as Thine,
Professing Virtue, make's ev'n Virtue
hateful.
Exit.
SCENE II.
BRUTUS
alone.
Heaven! what a Change in
Rome!—breathe these
her Sou
[...]
Oh! griev'd
Quirinus! what Reproach wero Thine,
Did not thy fellow Gods disdain to note us!
Rome has no Remnant, now, of
Roman Greatness:
Sold, or seduced, we give up Claim by Claim,
Till even our Virtues are engros'd by
Caesar!
O, Souls of long lost Glory!
Fabii! Decii
O, all ye
Pompey's! Scipio's! Cato's! hear me!
Re-kindle, in my Breast, your patriot Lights:
And live, once more in
Brutus!—fill this Heart,
With
Caesar's Fire—but, let it flame, for
Rome.
SCENE III.
BRUTUS, TORBILIUS
BRUTUS.
Torbilius! Thou intrud'st on my Retirement:
The Muse, and my sad Heart are, now, not social,
TORBILIUS.
Cassius approaches.
—There's a Name, indeed,
Unsocial!—Every
Muse wou'd start, to hear it.
BRUTUS.
Thou wrong'st him.
—Cassius is a noble
Roman.
TORBILIUS.
There is a
Jaundice, in thy Judgment,
Brutus,
That lends him Golden Colour, from thy own:
I know him, to the Soul.—Have sounded all
The Shallows of his Envy;—and I
cou'd,
But that an
Oath, injoin'd, has bound my Tongue,
[Page 45] Convince thee, that he dares assault thy
Honour;
And plots, to blast thee to the World, for ever.
BRUTUS.
Who bound thee, by such Oath?
TORBILIUS.
Calphurnia's Piety.
BRUTUS.
What had
Calphurnia's Piety to do
With Plots? and Oaths? and Secrecy? and
Brutus?
TORBILIUS.
Earnest,
herself, to warn endanger'd
Brutus
With Consequence, she fear'd,
my Words might
lose,
She claims your instant Ear:—Be swift—incline it.
Shun the too near Approach of
Cassius, hither:
And, hast'ning to the House of
Caesar, weigh,
What her Wish forms, to guard thy Fame, and Virtue.
BRUTUS.
Thou art too bold,
Torbilius:—Tell
Calphurnia,
I, best, myself, defend my Honour's Claims:
And grasp, too hard, to need a
Woman's Aiding.
Torbilius!—
Rome has
lost thee.
—Caesar's Bounties
Have brib'd thy
Gratitude, to slander Honesty.
TORBILIUS.
Ill am I known, where, most, my Heart lies open,
If, after all my rash Contempts of
Power,
Brutus can doubt me
Venal:—Yet, doubt on:
No
undeserv'd Reproach
adheres to Virtue.
No Matter what bold Slander wounds
Torbilius,
Where he, who Wrongs him, has the Rights of Friendship.
BRUTUS.
I will not see
Calphurnia.
TORBILIUS.
[Page 46]
Oh! revoke those fatal Words, lest
BRUTUS.
By the Gods! I will not; till
Cassius, and his Friends have, first, been heard.
TORBILIUS.
Cassius is
Caesar's Enemy.
BRUTUS.
But I am
Brutus;- and thou know'st me
Caesar's
Friend.
Let that Truth, known, content thee.
TORBILIUS.
—No.—It cannot:
Brutus not fearing, I must fear for
Brutus.
Greatness of Soul, confiding in
itself,
Exposes an unguarded Side, to Baseness.
BRUTUS.
What woud'st thou lead me to?
TORBILIUS.
To one kind
Promise:
I urge it but to
save thee.—I conjure thee;
By every Claim of long, untir'd Adherence!
By every Recompence, thou ow'st my Dangers!
By every grateful Sense of every Duty!
Love, Friendship, Reverence, Faith, Advice, and Service!
Promise, whatever dire Result the Gods
Permit,—for
Cassius comes on no light Errand!
Previous to any
Deed, thy will may purpose,
To hear
my Thoughts:—Intrust me with thy own:
And teach my willing Hand, and Heart, to aid thee.
BRUTUS.
I see the strangely
mov'd:—I will, by Heaven!
Intrust thee, unreserv'd, and seek thy Counsel.
TORBILIUS.
[Page 47]
Bark on, ye Dogs of envy! Bark, in vain:
Brutus is Safe, and Spotless
Exit Torbilius.
BRUTUS.
Alone.
—Caesar's
Graces.
Win every Heart! and no
Corruption's Power
Out-bribes the native Sweetness of his
Pity.
SCENE IV.
BRUTUS, CASSIUS, DECIMUS, CINNA, CASCA.
CASSIUS.
Hail! death-devoted
Brutus! Romes last Friend!
DECIMUS.
Guardian, in vain, of our expiring Liberty!
CASSIUS.
Caesar, To-morrow, marches hence, a
King.
BRUTUS.
What are
Rome's Prospects,
then?
CASSIUS.
Taxes, and Chains.
Brutus, farewell,
for ever
Embracing.
—Life grows Shameful,
Where Freedom is resign'd, and Man's a
Slave.
BRUTUS.
Can
Cassius feel Despair?
CASSIUS.
When
Rome Despairs.
DECIMUS.
When even her
Soul—her
Brutus!—Breaths for
Caesar▪
CASSIUS.
No Force on Earth, but
our unshaken Hearts
Held back this bold Invader.
DECIMUS.
[Page 48]
Caesar's too
Wise,
To spare our Lives, who live,—to shake his Throne.
CASSIUS.
Escaping us, he meets but
Men:—Not
Romans.
BRUTUS.
Oh! Honour, Virtue, and the Rights of
Law!
CASSIUS.
Tis
past:—The Laws
have been.—Honour, and Virtue
Are, now, the public Jest of penfion'd Parasites:
Who
sell Submission, and receive back—Scorn.
DECIMUS.
Rome, and the World are fall'n!—'tis
Caesar, All!
CASSIUS.
All, that Six Hundred bleeding Years have gain'd,
Thrown, at one Cast, to
Caesar!—Why had Times,
Like these, a
Brutus?—Grac'd with fruitless Virtues?
BRUTUS.
If I have Virtues
—Why shou'd They be
Fruitless?
CASSIUS
Join every Power, above?—To bless that Question!
DECIMUS.
Hear yon licentios Noise!
Shouts at a Distance
BRUTUS.
—Curse the vile Sound!
'Tis Breath of Adulation!
Rome's lost Gods
Expell'd!—And Insense paid to human
Pride!
Shouts again.
CASSIUS.
Again!—Those Shouts are Insult.
DECIMUS.
—Cimber comes,
[Page 49] And, if I read him Rightly, in his
Look,
Caesar's Attempts
succeeds; for, see! he's
Angry.
SCENE V.
BRUTUS, CASSIUS, DECIMUS, CINNA, CASCA, CIMBER.
CASSIUS.
Tell us, what
wou'd they?
CIMBER.
—Slavery, they wou'd
BRUTUS.
Have we a
King, in
Rome?
CIMBER.
Have we a
Freeman?
CASSIUS.
What call you
Caesar?
BRUTUS.
Less, when he dares be
more.
CIMBER.
Caesar high-seated,—Sovereign of the Slaves!
Shone, from the Capitol, as who wou'd say,
Make me a
God, and
Rome shall shake with Thunder:
Up, from Ten Thousand bribe-attesting Throats,
Flew purchas'd Gratulation: "Hail, Great
Caesar!
"Rome's dread Avenger!—Fate of punish'd
Parthia!
"Star of thy Country's Hope? And War's brave Guider!".
Timely, to cool this Madness, at its Height,
So Heaven decreed it!—In Stalks
Antony;
Blast him, deaf Genius of devoted
Rome!
A cushion'd
Crown, and
Scepter, sham'd his Hands:
[Page 50] Yet, was his venal Eye fix'd bold, on
Caesar.
Down sunk, at once, the Tempest of Applause;
Hush'd, as a Coward, in his Midnight Bush,
The sick'ning People
flatter'd into Silence;
He, 'midst a horrid Glare of wide-stretch'd Eyes,
Unheeding, on his Master's Brow, set, soft,
The regal
Gew-gaw:—Then, with abject Knee,
Bent, for
inflructive Homage,
—be a KING,
He cry'd—and reign o'er
Rome, that rules the
World,
Caesar, mean while, who watch'd the public Eye,
And read Reluctance, Grief, and Terror,
there;
Starting indignant with well-acted Scorn,
Hurl'd, from his Front, the
uninclining Toy;
And cry'd—"I am
not King, my Friend—but
Caesar.
BRUTUS.
O, Truth!—Beyond all Pride of kingly Greatness!
CIMBER.
Then, general Joy new-voic'd the gaping Press;
And shook the distant Roofs, with loud Concurrence;
Even
Antony, then, blush'd.
CASSIUS.
—And did not
Caesar?
CIMBER.
Caesar smil'd sweet
Contempt:—And then,
again,
Th' unfeeling Fools, more charm'd, renew'd their Shouting:
I laugh'd, aloud: to mark him thanking
Rome,
For
finding Virtues in him, which he had not!
At length, disdainful of the hard Constraint,
Parting, he frown'd
Sincerity.—The Rest
You'l learn, when I do.
BRUTUS.
[Page 51]
What means That?
CIMBER.
—Anon,
The Senate sits.
BRUTUS.
What then?
CIMBER.
Why then, Six Hours
May pass, betwixt
his pushing back the Crown,
And our exacted Votes, to bid him
take it.
BRUTUS.
Holds he that Hope?
DECIMUS.
Yes: And who
helps us?
CASSIUS.
—Death.
BRUTUS.
Death is, indeed, the Slave's last Hope:—but, he,
Who dares embrace that Help, might find a better.
CASSIUS.
While my doom'd Country had a Gasp for Life,
I struggled on, to
live:—Now, World, farewell!
No God sustain'd me, to
support the State:
But, to
die, with it, still, is left to Freedom.
To Heaven's imperial
Rome, from ours, I go;
There, no bold
Caesar sways:
—There Pompey serves!
No
Roman, there, need blush to owne a
Master:
Where even a
Cato finds, and fears, a
Lord!
These will I follow, thus.
Drawing his Sword.
BRUTUS.
Disarming him.
—Follow we
none:
'Tis ours, to lend, not borrow, brave Example.
[Page 52] 'Tis ours, to stem the Tide of a bad World,
And justify to
Time the
Roman Greatness.
Much is to
Anger due—but more to
Rome.
Cato had died, unblam'd—first,
killing Caesar;
But, turning on
himself, his erring Sword,
He fell,
unjustly:—For, he punish'd
Innocence.
CASSIUS.
What
can we, in a World, despairing, round us?
BRUTUS.
Shewing a Billet.
See! What the Friends of Liberty expect!
See! What they
hope from
Romans!
CASSIUS.
This Reproach
I, too, have met with:—And 'twas hard to bear!
BRUTUS.
Cassius!—'twas harder, far,—to have
deserv'd it.
CIMBER.
Good
Talkers might attract a
Gown-man's Praise:
And had Time
Ears—fine Words were Marks of
Wisdom:
But lose this Day, no Orator, in
Rome,
Must be admir'd, but
Caesar.
BRUTUS.
—E're this Day
Yet passes,—Twenty Tyrant's
Fortunate,
As ours—but never
Greatness equall'd
Caesar!
Might expiate, with their
Lives, their bold Ambition.
CIMBER.
Ay! That's a Flower of Speech,
my Rhetoric reaches!
CASSIUS.
Rome lives again! She breath'd, in that rais'd Voice!
[Page 53] And
Brutus has receiv'd her.—
DECIMUS.
—Fatal
Name
To Tyrants!
—Brutus, to assert his
Race,
Speaks the dire Duty, which
We dar'd but
think.
CASSIUS.
My Friend has reconcil'd me to myself;—
If there is future
Glory due to
Cassius,
Brutus bestows it, all—BRUTUS! and ROME!
Flow mix'd, ye reverend Names! down Time's dark Stream!
By Ages emulating Ages, bless'd!
Decimus! Cinna! Casca! Patriot's! Roman's!
Join your Sword's Aid: Obey this gener'ous Leader.
Live to approve, and to support his Vengeance;
And drive Dejection from the Heart of Virtue,
CIMBER.
All
Rome will think, and Act, with
Roman Brutus.
DECIMUS.
Born the Sustainers of patrician Honour,
Senates, despis'd, wou'd fall with double
Shame,
Surviv'd, by their Despiser.—
CASSIUS.
—See a
List,
Shinning with Names, of
Rome's distinguish'd Sons!
Associates, All, to strike one Glorious Blow!
BRUTUS.
Taking the
Paper
Soft,
Cassius!—have a Care! nor arm Revenge
Too Strongly:—lest it look, perhaps, like Baseness.
One were enough, to bid a Tyrant
die,
Who dar'd Himself,
die with him.
CASSIUS.
[Page 54]
Roman's numberless
Stand, now prepar'd for Summons.
BRUTUS.
Summon
none:
Shou'd they be
sold to
Caesar, they're untrusty:—
And, if they
fear him, heartless.—
CASSIUS.
Such a
Tongue,
As Cicero's.
CIMBER.
No.—let us list no
Praters;
These Speechmen of the
Senate range but Periods:
Tropes are their
Javelins:—Climax forms their
Ranks:
And, when they
charge, 'tis with some smart
Harangue.
Twill be Renown enough, for these
Tongue—Cohorts,
To praise our Bravery, when it meets
Success:
Or, if it
fails, teach pliant Law to
teize us.
CASSIUS.
Enough!- then,
Caesar finds us, in the
Senate.—
BRUTUS.
There, be it lawful, O, immortal Guiders!
To consecrate
this Sword, that, once, was
Cato's,
To
Cato's Death, reveng'd! and murder'd
Pompey's.
Draws.
All the Conspitators
draw their Swords.
CASSIUS.
Now, I
will
[...]ive.—Li
[...], now, becomes a
Roman.
BRUTUS.
No.—Let no vain false
Hope of
Life deceive ye:
Know—yet despise, your
Danger.—Caesar's Friends
[Page 55] Crowd his tame
Senate:—Ardent, All! and try'd,
In Service of their Master, while the People,
The suffe'ring People! pleas'd at once, and wretched!
Doat on the Tyrant's
Heart, whose
Hand they fear!
Think, too, tis CAESAR, we presume to wound:
Caesar! who aw'd an
Army, with his
Frown!
Our Death, in the Attempt, is fix'd as Fate:
But,
what a Death!—How to be wish'd, and envied!
Dying, that
unborn Rome may live, in Liberty!
CASSIUS.
How will our Deaths endear yon aweful
Capitol!
That Seat of our Oppression, doom'd by Heaven,
The Scene of our Revenge!
DECIMUS.
—But, shou'd the People—
CIMBER.
Why let the People
prate:—So People
will—
Bless the Light Murmurings of their hungry Love!
Poor
Gnats! They know, tis Summer, now, with
Caesar:
Cloud but his Sunshine—all their Buzzing ceases.
BRUTUS.
Kneel, gener'ous Friends:
They kneel,
Brutus continues standing.
Raise your Right Hands, to Heaven;
Swear—by the all-dreaded Powers, to wait
my Call:
Nor, till I
sound him, touch the
Life of
Caesar.—All the Conspirators.
We
swear.—
BRUTUS.
—But shou'd he—(some kind God restrain him!)
Force my afflicted Hand, to point the Way.—
[Page 56] Then,—by that thin, pale, Flight of Roman Ghosts,
Whose hov'ring Forms skim o'er th' unburied Bones,
Which the wan Moon sees whit'ning twelve lost Fields!
Their Murd'rer, if he Reigns, in
Rome.
All
shall
die!CASSIUS.
Brutus, kneel
with us.
—Rome exempts no Knee:
BRUTUS.
Kneels.
Blast, Heaven! The Man, who spares a Tyrant's Life!
Be he Son, Patron, Brother, Friend, or—Father!
BRUTUS.
Or
Father?—Cassius!
CASSIUS.
Son, Friend, Father, Brother:
Tyrants can Claim no Kindred: They renounce
All
social Ties:—And
hate a hating World.
The expanding Soul, that swells a
Roman Breast.
Stretch'd beyond Rights of Blood,
attones 'em,
All,
By Virtue, Glory, Liberty, and Law.
BRUTUS.
Be it, then, SWORN.—
All
—By Earth, and Heaven, we
swear.BRUTUS.
Soul-shaking Oath!—tis past, and, from this Moment,
Rise and put up their Swords.
No Man has Parent, Child, or Friend—but
Rome,
If there, among us,
shrinks one recreant Slave,
Curse him, ye Gods! For every Guilt of
Caesar!
And never let his
Race know Comfort, more.
loud Thunder.
Hark! the confirming Powers
approve my Curse—
Or, testify
Dislike, in Peals of Thunder!
CASSIUS.
[Page 57]
Let 'em
call on: The Brave, they know, are ready,
BRUTUS.
We meet, then, at the
Capitol.
CASSIUS.
—Haste,
Decimus—
With heedful Caution, Summon each great Name,
That gilds our Glorious List:—previous, we meet,
(Immortal
Brutus!) in thy aweful
Grot.
There, shalt thou fan their Fire; confirm their Hearts:
Unite their Purpose, and instruct their Hands:
That one concurring Spirit may direct,
And no Confusion Rise, to blast our Vengeance.
BRUTUS.
'Tis dreadful!—But, 'tis
necessary:—Mark!
When you pale
Sun, that, with receding Ray,
Starts from our notic'd Purpose!—When that
Sun,
Slow-measuring, sheds an
Hour—This private Key
Admits you, thro' the Grove:—Be punctual All.
Gives Cassius
a Key, then, advances to a Statue of Cato.
Cato! Lost
Soul of Freedom!
Witness forme!
Here, I divest my Heart of Love, Grief, Pity,
Of every tender call of pleading
Nature,
That moves too soft a Pang.
The Thunder repeated.
—Again!—'Tis Strange!
Why hangs this infelt
Weight, upon my Purpose?
Can it be
terrible.—To die for
Rome!
What has he left to
fear, who saves his
Country!
Enter Marcellus,
hastily
MARCELLUS.
[Page 58]
Break off—or, be prevented:
—Caesar comes.
CASSIUS.
Now, let him die.
BRUTUS.
—Avoid him, thro' that Gallery.
Exeunt Conspirators.
SCENE VI.
BRUTUS, CAESAR.
CAESAR.
With whom dost thou retire?
BRUTUS.
—With banish'd Liberty.
CAESAR.
Vain, honest Purposer! Made weak by Virtue!
Thou wrong'st the Friend of every Wish, thou form'st!
Cited by
Antony, why cam'st thou not?
Or why,
not coming, was Reproach thought needful?
With insolent
Contempt of Power above thee?
Find'st thou Delight, in living to
offend?
There's not a Name, in all thy private Friendships,
That is not mark'd, in public, as
my Foe.
BRUTUS.
When Foes to
Caesar are the Friends of
Rome,
May Heaven inspire his Will, to love their Counsel!
CAESAR.
Speak out:—The
just Enjoy the Slanderer's
Malice,
And weigh their Virtue's Force, by bad Men's
Censure.
BRUTUS.
All Men confess the Force of
Caesar's Virtues:
Resistless Virtues!—They
endear the
Chains
Of a submitting World, that smiles, and suffers!
CAESAR.
[Page 59]
Thou art, thyself, in Chains, and see'st it not;
Thou art that poorest of blind Slaves—a
Tool!
Whose Bluntness works for Wills, that scorn thy Promptness.
So work'd they, once, on
Pompey.—Weak well-meaner.
Driven, yet, too proud to
follow!—Had
he conquer'd,
His flexile Yoke had gall'd, both Men, and Laws:
Then, what had
Brutus been?
BRUTUS.
—Lord of
one Dagger.
CAESAR.
Fell mind!—And can there none be found, for
Caesar?
BRUTUS.
Strike, first—and blast the distant Possibility!
CAESAR.
No.
—Brutus!—There's a Power
forbids that Blow:
Read this, blind Wanderer!—Know
thyself, and
me.
Gives him Servilia's
Letter.
BRUTUS.
Caesar, I
die:—Punish'd by Heaven's just Hand,
At once, my
Life forsakes me, and my
Love.
Pity, when I am gone, and think of
—Brutus:
The Life,
you gave him
[Starts] will deserve your Care.
Farewell!—And, for the
Father, may the Gods,
To the Son's Heart, transfer the Mother's Love!
Servilia!—Heaven,
Servilia!—wrote
she this?
She
did—and, if I
wake, Rome sleeps forever.
CAESAR.
I had not thought, till my return from
Parthia,
To trust thee with this Secret, of thy Birth:
[Page 60] But to protect Thee, from the Willes of
Cassius,
I claim Thee, and Precipitate my Purpose.
Offers to embrace him, who starts back
BRUTUS.
Rome! Virtue! Nature!
CAESAR.
Nature! young Man, call it
By its sincerer Titles? call it
Pride,
Self-soothing.—Hurl your Bolts, ye Gods! at
Faction!
Faction!—that finds a Power to blot out
Nature!
BRUTUS.
Spare an astonished
Wretch, who lives too long.
CAESAR.
Is there, who
fears to be the Son of
Caesar?
Wretch, say'st thou?—to be born the World's
next Heir,
And reap the Laurels of a Hundred Victories?
BRUTUS.
Oh,
Caesar!—
CAESAR.
Lab'ring with a
Will to speak,
Some infelt Horror checks thy rising Accents.
BRUTUS.
Caesar!
CAESAR.
Speak like my Son.
BRUTUS.
Wou'd I were
dead.
CAESAR.
Sounds
Death more soft than Son?
BRUTUS.
Such if I
am,
Kneels.
CAESAR.
On.—
BRUTUS.
Offering his Sword
—Kill me;—or, forbear to be a
King.
CAESAR.
Thy very
Soul's a Rebel:—not alone
To
Power, but ev'en to
Blood:—unatural Traitor!
Rise, and repent:—and, when thou think'st, like
Man,
Be own'd
Rome's Son, and mine:—till then, be
Brutus,
Turning to go.
BRUTUS.
Holding his Robe.
Oh! stay.—I never can quit Claim to
Caesar:
Hear, if a
Father, with a father's Ear;
Or, judge with a Friend's Heart, and ease my Horror.
CAESAR.
Leave me.—My Heart is
Adamant:—Away;—
My Blood grows warm against thee: Dread thy danger.
Be gone—or, I shall catch Disdain, from Thine,
Till, conqu'ring
Pity, to repel
Presumption,
To punish Insolence, I push back
Nature.
Caesar, at least, was
born, to govern
Brutus.
BRUTUS.
He was—he was—but
not to govern
Rome.
CAESAR.
Headstrong
Enthusiast! Stubborness, like Thine,
Embroils Republicks; and makes Tyrants
needful:
Go: join thy savage Friends: chase
Fear from Faction:
Bid Guilt sleep safe, in my
Contempt of Treachery:
Their Conqueror stands subdued, by his own
Mercy:
—Yet bid their Blindness
learn, when Claims contend,
[Page 62] And Rights invaded rouse resenting Realms,
'Tis
Fierceness, in the Free, most, hazards Freedom.
And Liberty is
lost to punish Pride.
Exit Caesar.
BRUTUS.
Rising
Let me not
leave him, tho' Despair has caught me:
But, following, sigh for
Rome—and live for
Caesar.
Why was I born to
think, and be
unbless'd,
To licence Reason, is to forfeit Rest:
He, who assumes
Distinction, calls for Woe;
Peace is a Cottage Claim, and loves the Low.
Nor Shame, nor Trust, nor Envy,
finds us, there!
Hearts,
fill'd with Quiet, leave no Void, for
Care.
End of the Third Act.
ACT. IV.
SCENE I.
A Grot in the Garden of Brutus.
CALPHURNIA, TORBILIUS.
CALPHURNIA
'TIS near the appointed Hour:
TORBILIUS.
I judge, tis
past.
CALPHURNIA.
Then Heaven, that loves its
Likeness, wake for
Caesar,!
TORBILIUS.
In this Out-Grot, they meet:—In that adjoining,
Curio has close conceal'd his chosen Guard,
[Page 63] Each Moment strength'ning, by admitted Files:
Hence vocal Windings, which pervade the Rock,
Swell whisp'ring Sounds to Loudness.
CALPHURNIA.
How
look'd Portia?
TORBILIUS.
Sad—till she heard your animating Name:
Then, like a Sun-beam, radiant thro' a Mist,
She smil'd away her Anguish.
CALPHURNIA.
—At her Approach,
Leave me
Torbilius.
TORBILIUS.
—Who then guards you hence?
CALPHURNIA.
I mark'd th' impending
Ivy, o'er the Arch—
Grieve, not tho' Pride repell'd thy honest Purpose,
Nor fear the endangering Fate of stubborn
Brutus:
My Friendship, in alarming
Portia's dread,
Will caution, and preserve him.—Go:—she's here.
[Exit Toroilius
bowing to Portia,
whom he meets ent'ring.
SCENE II.
CALPHURNIA, PORTIA.
PORTIA.
This mournful Grot ne're touch'd my Taste till now:
But present Friends bring
Sunshine to the Soul.
And Seats of Horror change to Scenes of Bliss.
'Twas fortunate, thou call'dst thy
Portia, hither!
Brutus is sad to-day, and Purposes
Retirement, here, beneath this sullen Shade:
Our Presence will relieve him.
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 64]
—Stop him,
Portia!
Let me not find him:—save my Eyes that Horror!
PORTIA.
Good Heaven!—what has he done?
CALPHURNIA.
Stay not, to ask:
Even that lost Moment may be
fatal to him.
Go; bid him guard his Ear from cruel
Cassius:
Time will permit no more; go warn him—save him.—
If thou delay'st a Moment, Fate o'ertakes him;
And staying but, till
Cassius comes—he
dies.
PORTIA.
Be clear in Pity to my beating Heart;
Brutus has been traduced.—He loaths all Falsehood▪
CALPHURNIA.
Shunning the Falsehood loath'd, he may be safe.
PORTIA.
He comes.—Now, hear him justify his Fame,
From this foul Charge—and vindicate thy Goodness.
CALPHURNIA.
No.—Tis thy Weight must shake his concious Soul.
Save his endanger'd Name, and bless my Notice.
PORTIA.
I cannot
move:—forgive my trembling
Knees,
My Heart restrains their Power.
CALPHURNIA.
Alas! I pity Thee:
Rest, and recall thy Spirits, and receive him.
Aside.
Now, to my fatal Post.—
Exit.
SCENE III.
PORTIA.
alone.
After an astonish'd Pause.
—Some dreadful Meaning!
And my too wakeful
Fears confirm it
just:
Cassius, of late, with warm, assiduous Art,
Flatters my
Brutus, whom his Envy
shun'd:
Cassius is wily, proud, malicious, bitter!
Burns, with ungovern'd Hate: and brooks not
Caesar.
Associate Vice may
taint the soundest Virtue:
And
Honour bleeds, shou'd
Caesar fall by
Brutus!
Not that my patriot Heart disclaims the
Roman!
I, who was born to Liberty's great Guardian,
By right of
Nature, shun tyrannic Sway:
Yet
Brutus—twice offending—twice forgiven,
Twice, forfeited to
Caesar's Clemency,
His own lost rights to Justice:—shou'd he, then,
Quench the kind Light, he lives by, the rash Murderer
Kills his own Fame, and dies to every Virtue;
SCENE IV.
PORTIA, BRUTUS
BRUTUS.
Who call'd thee hither
Portia?
PORTIA.
Rome's kind Gods.
BRUTUS.
In Haste they summon'd, and, in Haste they left thee.
Was it, because they saw
Calphurnia with thee?
And shun Society with
Caesar's Friends?
PORTIA.
[Page 66]
Ne're may the Gods forsake the
Friends of
Caesar,
Since
Brutus more than all Men, such, by Gratitude,
Merits Protection from the Powers, who
love it.—
Does
Cassius move in Grots?
BRUTUS.
Why ask'st thou that?
PORTIA.
Romans, who meditate the Death of
Caesar,
And owe him not their
Lives, may mean
no Murder.
BRUTUS.
Torbilius is a Traitor:
—Rome is
bought,
And all those guardian Gods, who lov'd her Liberty.
Forsake her, and support the Cause of
Caesar.
PORTIA.
Rome bought?—and Traitors?—If I watch thy Look:
Rage, and Despair, have dim'd thy Eyes with Anguish,
If I regard thy Language,—Death dwells,
there,
And, like a Groan, at Midnight, frights my Fancy.
Stay I would ask.
BRUTUS.
Ask nothing;—'tis a Time
For
Action:—keep thy
Words for idler moments
[is going.
PORTIA.
Holding him.
Hark! tis thy Fate, that calls the.
BRUTUS.
I
have heard it:
Why woud'st thou thus restrain me?
-thoughtless Portia!
Be wiser.—All the Lives of
Rome's best Friends
Demand me!
Theirs the Fate, that
calls!—Away:—
Honour, and Oaths, and Death, and Glory
—call me.
PORTIA.
[Page 67]
Still holding him.
By Heaven! you go not, till you first relieve me,
From this dark Torment, which your Words implant:
I'll know,
what Friends? what Oaths?
BRUTUS.
Loosen thy Hold:
Nay, if thou
stay'st me, my unwilling Strength
Must break ungently from this ill-tim'd Rashness.
Forces himself away
PORTIA.
With a Dagger
Turn,
Brutus! turn,—regard this
silent Pleader?
If thou woud'st wish to spare the Breast of
Portia,
Dread the determin'd Hand of
Cato's Daughter.
BRUTUS.
What wou'd thy Madness hint? what means that dagger▪
PORTIA.
Pointing a Dagger to her Breast.
Stir, not a Step.—Thy first vain Start to seize me,
Plunges Deliverance to my rescued
Heart,
Which unconfiding
Brutus loves to
torture.
BRUTUS.
What would thy Soul-distracting Purpose frame?
PORTIA.
The bloody Secret, thou conceal'st from
Portia,
Thou shar'st, with every vulgar Friend of
Rome.
BRUTUS.
Suspended, and amaz'd.
Why woud'st thou bid me
license future Scorn,
To haunt my hated Name?—Make me not
faithless,
Lest
Songs teach Times to come my Hearts fond weakness;
That, to a
Woman's Tongue, resign'd a
Secret,
Which sunk the World's last Hope;—and gave up
Rome.
PORTIA.
[Page 68]
Where
sleeps the Spirit of thy stern Forefather?
Whose awful Firmness, sculptur'd into Life,
Frowning thro'
Stone, disclaims degenerate
Rome!
Teach him, some
God! that CATO call'd
Me Daughter▪
Brutus believes me
light, like
vulgar Woman!
Oh!—'twas for
this, the sorrowing Shade resought me;
Hinted Futurity, through mystic Night,
And shew'd me,
Brutus wou'd be Mine
—no more.
Find, in that dreadful Warning, how HE judg'd:
Feel, what he thought of his own
Portia's
Daring.
Trusting the Fortitude, he gave—HE knew,
That
Cato's Daughter could not dread to
hear
The worst, that
Cato's Spirit dar'd to
tell.
BRUTUS.
Generous, I know thou art;—But thou art
Woman:
Secrets of State, and Blood, o'erload your Minds.
PORTIA.
Tis the false Reasoning of a Sex, that
wrongs us:
Why shou'd a Secret's weight o'erload the Heart
Of
Portia—yet, disturb not that of
Brutus?
All, thou can'st
wish me, thou shalt find, I am:
All, thou can'st
suffer, thou shalt feel, I
dare.
Poorly, perhaps, thou think'st, the Fear of
Wounds,
And
Pain, and
Sword's, and threat'ning
Death, might shake me!
—Judge,—by this willing Blow—
Strikes the Dagger into her Left Arm, which Brutus,
advancing swiftly, snatches from her.
"—off—off—by Heaven
Thy
Failure had transferr'd it to my
Heart.
from Thoughts of
Death, I fear not for my
own.
BRUTUS.
What has thy Pride's ill-grounded Rashness done!
Oh! let me
Mend that error of thy Hand:—
Bind up th' ungentle Wound, and call
Aid to thee.
PORTIA.
Never!—tho'Death
divide us!—Never—never
Shall
Portia veil this Mark, how
Brutus lov'd her;
Till, to Redeem her
Life, he trusts her
Vertue.
BRUTUS.
Perish the
Pride of such a dear-bought Fame,
As costs my widow'd Heart the
Life of
Portia!
—Read that dire
List.
Gives her the Roll.
Till my Return
conceal it:
And weigh those mighty Names, against ONE
Caesar.
PORTIA
Permitting
Brutus to bind her Arm with his Handkerchief.
Must
Caesar die?
BRUTUS.
—Twas
sworn.
PORTIA.
—Did
Brutus swear.
BRUTUS.
He
did:—A dreadful Oath!—ask
what, hereafter▪
Bound to the
Gods, those angry Souls of
Rome.
Submitting to
my Hand, the public Vengeance,
Kill Caesar, instant,—or permit his
Life,
As
Brutus warrants, or with-holds, the Blow.
PORTIA.
Then,
Caesar cannot die.—He
pardoned Brutus.
BRUTUS.
[Page 70]
Oh! I cou'd tell thee Wonders!—But the Help,
I fly to send thee.—and
their forfeit Lives,
Whose Rashness I must
warn, permit no more.
Portia, farewell:—If e're we meet again,
I will
complain, of thy impatient Ardor,
And thou shalt justify the Heart of
Brutus.
Exit hastily
SCENE V.
PORTIA. (alone.)
PORTIA.
Live,
Caesar! live, and reign!—Tho'
Cato's Blood.
Calls for Revenge;—and a whole People's Rights,
Usurp'd,
absolve one bold Assumer's Fall;—
The Hand of
Brutus must not
stain Rome's Justice;
Nor, with detested Murder, pay back
Mercy.
Peruses the Paper.
Heaven! what confederate Power! what Names, least likely,
Start from this dreadful Roll, and threaten
Caesar!
—Wou'd I were still a
Stranger to this Secret!
Yet, that unknown,
—who had
dissuaded Brutus?
Is he dissuaded?—let me
weigh that Question.
Who knows but, while I
speak, th' appointed Hour
Impends!—It DOES!—Farewell, he said—and
left me!
Farewell!—then added
—if again we meet!
IF!—Heaven! what meant that
if?- tis plain he
doubted,
Whether we ever
were to meet, or No!
SCENE VI.
To PORTIA,
enter CALPHURNIA,
with TORBILIUS, CURIO,
and Soldiers.
CALPHURNIA.
Never, unhappy
Portia!—Far divided
Be Innocence like
Thine, from Guilt and Murder!
Teach thy reluctant Heart, to
give up Brutus:
For never will thy Eyes behold him more.
Portia
fix'd in Amazement, lets fall the Roll, which Torbilius
takes up, looks into, and offers to Calphurnia.
Let not the hated Scroll pollute my Touch!
Fly with it, hence—bear it, with Speed to
Caesar:
Tell him,
Torbilius! how the Gods have sav'd him:
TORBILIUS.
Happy, to miss thy Name, lov'd
Brutus, here!
Well-vers'd in
Caesar's
Pity,—glad, I go.
Exit.
SCENE VII.
PORTIA, CALPHURNIA, SOLDIERS.
PORTIA.
Oh!—
CALPHURNIA.
Wife of
Brutus!
PORTIA.
—Chill'd to
Stone, by Horror,
Kindly, thou
wak'st me, with that powerful Name.
And my recov'ring Breath implores thy Mercy.
CALPHURNIA.
The
Wife of
Caesar speaks: Absolve her Justice:
Had the too dreadul Danger been
Calphurnia's,
Then, had my willing Pity met thy Prayer:
But thou hast
heard it!
Brutus murders
Caesar!
—Yes
Cassius!—bloody
Cassius!—I have wrong'd thee:
The Foe but
wish'd Revenge:—The Friend
resolv'd it.
PORTIA.
What does thy angry Virtue mean to do?
CALPHURNIA.
—Blast his vow'd Guilt, and force him to be safe.
Round, from the neighb'ring Grot, rush
Caesar's friends,
Rapid for Interception:—If they find him,
Try thy wish'd Power: reclaim his Will, from
Cassius,
Whom if his Fate has driven him, now, to
join,
By all my Fear for
Caesar's Life—he
dies!
PORTIA.
Detain him, all ye Powers, who pity
Woe!
Enter Curio
with other Soldiers.
CURIO.
Vain was our speed:—There is an Iron Door,
That, opening to a Vault, beneath these Rocks,
Leads toward th'
Aemilian Baths:—'scap'd thro' that Passage,
E'ere now, he rises in the Shade of
Rome.
Portia
faints.
CALPHURNIA.
To a Soldier.
See! th' unhappy Sufferer faints!—support her:
To Curio,
in a lower Voice.
Mean Time, while slow-returning
Sense forsakes
Her pitied Ear, whose Sighs my Soul deplores,
Curio!—The
blank Commision, Caesar gave thee,
Claims, from
my Hand, a
Name, to guide thy Duty:
Receives the Table-Book, from Curio,
writes in, and returns it to him.
Take it, and know thy Hour.
PORTIA.
Bless'd, ye kind Rocks!
Bless'd, be your guardian
Echos! That have swell'd
Death's Murmurings to my Ear:—If my Strength fail
Home, on the Wings of Love, and Fear, I'll fly: [not,
Brutus shall
live; and every God shall guard him.
Starts up and goes out.
CALPHURNIA.
Restrain her,
Curio!—The preventive Love,
This weeping Vertue bears her sentenc'd Lord,
Wou'd warm him from the Fate, his Guilt compells.
Curio
brings her back.
Come—guide th' afflicted Trembler to
my Palace.
PORTIA.
No.—Kill me,
here:—Earth has no Place, so fit
For
Portia's Death, as where her
Brutus left her:
Art thou a
Soldier? hear me:—All the Brave
Have Hearts to weep the Woe, their Hands have caus'd.
But
Man is
cruel.—Hear,
Calphurnia!—Thou
Art Woman:—Thou art
Caesar's tender
Wife.
Measure another's Mis'ery, by thy own.
Pause but, to think thyself the Wife of
Brutus;
'Twill plead
my Cause, and force thee to forgive.
CALPHURNIA.
Cou'd
Portia so forgive the sought, sworn,
Death
Of Him, beyond whose Life she shuns to live?
Knock at thy own Heart's Door, and find mine justified:
[Page 74] Yet, bleeds my social Soul, and feels thy Fate;
Poor, suffering
Excellence! And wretch, unguilty!
PORTIA.
Oh! I can never by a Wretch, by
Thee!
I am thy
Friend:- Dwell on that Thought,
Calphurnia:
Even, when the CRADLE claim'd me, I was
Thine:
Sorrows, and Pains,
must come:—They come to All,
But, sure! they shou'd not come from those, we
love.
CALPHURNIA
They
cannot come from Love:-They
may from Justice.
PORTIA.
Let
Foes, and
Strangers be, severely
Just:
Friendship declines to punish, tho' 'tis wrong'd.
CALPHURNIA.
Think of the
present Hour.
PORTIA.
Think of the
Past;
When pratling Childhood, yet, had learnt no Power,
To lisp its little Meanings, into Sense;
Stammering our untaught Instinct, Side by Side,
We wander'd, fearful of each other's
Fall,
And tripp'd, and smil'd, and totter'd, into
Love.
Scarce felt our
rip'ning Years a Sense of
Woe:
'Twas
Foreign, all—for all, within, was Peace.
While the divided City, round us, glow'd
With cruel Discord, and domestic Rage;
Even, while our dearest Friends took different Sides,
And Civil Fury shook the partial Soul:
We, still superior, to a
Nation's Hate!
Smil'd on—confided, mix'd embracing Minds;
And all
our Contest was
—which, most, shou'd
Love.
CALPHURNIA.
[Page 75]
Why woud'st thou, thus, recall past Hours of Joy?
Those were the sun-shine Days, of Mirth, and Peace.
Now, 'tis all win'try Darkness,—War, and Blood!
PORTIA.
Brutus is
dear to
Portia.
CALPHURNIA.
—Not
less dear
Is Godlike
Caesar, to
Calphurnia's Soul.
PORTIA.
If
Brutus lives.
CALPHURNIA.
—Caesar, he swore, must
die.
PORTIA.
Cruel Impatience! Not to
hear Distress!
CALPHURNIA.
Patient I heard, till he confess'd it
sworn:
Heard, till he told thee,—each dire Murderer dar'd
Vow
Caesar dead,—when
Brutus Wills it done.
PORTIA.
Brutus will
not.
CALPHURNIA.
—Away- 'twas
Sworn, 'twas SWORN.
Hear
that, all-judging Heaven! And think, by
whom
[...]!
Ingratitude's a Guilt, that startles Nature,
And, with a Fury's Foulness, stains Mankind!
Constrain her,
Curio!—Force her gently, on:
PORTIA.
Stay, Stay—I
will be heard,
—cruel Calphurnia!
CALPHURNIA.
Alas! What woud'st thou say?
PORTIA.
[Page 76]
—Wou'd I cou'd tell!
Wou'd I were skill'd in Woe, to touch thy Pity!
Perhaps, I shou'd be
Humbler?—Teach me, tell me.
Oh! I'm not stubborn.—If the
Queen of
Caesar,
Waits for the bended Knee; and, looking
down
To suppliant Homage, tastes the
Flatterer's Prayer:
See!
Portia, prostrate on the Dust, implores thee,
Kneels.
See her Soul agoniz'd,—and ease her Terrors.
Grant him
but Life! Spare his mistaking Virtue:
Banish him—far from
Rome, and Power, and
Caesar.
To
unhous'd Seythia's bleakest Wilds, expose him:
Leave him one—one
—but one! Sad, humble
Shelter!
His
Portia's
aching Bosom!—Never—ah?—Never,
Will
she forsake him!—Off, ye glittering Trifles!
Tears off her Jewels.
Ye
Toys! That help to blind unbless'd
Distinction!
Come—in
their Place—Despair! Affliction! Penitence!
Be these
my Claims!—For these my
Brutus shares in.
Shuddering, and bare, I'll trace th' unsheltry Desert
Tread the bleak Wilderness of
Want, unsighing,
Unwishing
Comfort, and content with
Pain.
Sleepless, myself, I'll watch his weary Slumbers,
Feed his pale
Fire, hang o'er his heedless Bosom:
Break ye rude
Snow-drifts, which the Storm blows round him,
And love him into
Taste of safe Distress.
CALPHURNIA.
To the Soldiers.
Why will ye wound Compassion, by Delay?
The Sorrows of a
suffering Friend, are Torture,
Relieve me, and, with tenderest Force, obey.
PORTIA.
To the Soldiers,
Reverence, ye Slaves of Power! The Race of
Cato:
His unsubmitting Soul survives, in
mine:
And swells against Compulsion.
Soldiers step back.
—Dare not think,
I dread to
die.—But
know, that
Portia's Death
Shall be the
Choice of
Portia.
At a Signal from Calphurnia,
they seize her Hands.
—Hope, as soon,
To claim
impassive Spirit!—High Disdain,
Resisting
Insult, at a Thousand Doors,
Can let out Life, and laugh at vain
Restraint!
I will, with stubborn Pain, imprison Breath,
And burst, indignant, from a World, that holds me.
I will, on stony Pavements, hard and cold,
As deaf
Calphurnia! Dash my dizzy Brain:
I'll swallow
Fire:—Rend, with impatient Teeth,
This suffering Flesh, and plunge from hated
Light:
Unhand me, Torturers! Murderers!
—Help! HELP!
I will extend my Voice, if
Brutns hears not,
Till the forgetful
Gods are rous'd to
Justice!
CASSIUS.
From the Garden.
Where
are you? say! Whence flow'd that suffering Sound?
PORTIA.
Blest be th' attentive Powers!—'Tis
Cassius calls.
CASSIUS.
Without.
Haste,
Cimber! Join
Marcellus; guard the Postern:
[Page 78] Cross those
arm'd Enter'ers, e're they reach the Grove:
Fabius!—Fulgentius!
CALPHURNIA.
Save me, righteous
Jove!
CURIO.
Scorn this new Terror. Think,
whose conquering Fortune
Summons a Sword, untaught to wrong his Cause.
Exeunt Curio,
and Soldiers, drawing their Swords.
CALPHURNIA.
Heaven guard my
Caesar,
PORTIA.
Save my
Brutus, Gods!
Clashing of Swords heard, without.
SCENE VIII.
CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, CASSIUS,
CASSIUS.
Entering.
Guard well those Priso'ners, while I—
Starts.
Calphurnia, here!
Nay
then, some Villian has betray'd our Cause.
PORTIA.
Torbilius bears your
listed Names to
Caesar,
And
Brutus, if you save him not, must die.
CASSIUS.
Freedom has Friends, in Heaven, too strong for
Caesar;
No Note of Danger, ever, more shall reach
The Tyrant's watchful Ear:
—Rome's vow'd
Avenger's,
Now, at his Entrance to the insulted
Senate,
Led on, by Liberty's returning Gods,
Shall, there, appease them, with his offer'd
Blood.
Exit hastily.
SCENE. IX.
CALPHURNIA.
Aside.
Hold firm my frighted Heart! Tis but a Moment!
Suffering with Dignity, disgrace not Glory:
Ev'n, in this dreadful Turn, preserve thy Greatness
Nor let thy trembling Fears, alarm'd for
Caesar,
Lose the
Distinction, due to
Caesar's
Wife.
Advances to Portia.
Portia! A Change, like this, might prompt
weak Minds,
To justify Despair, and give up Virtue.
But I, who trust the Gods, with good Men's Safety,
Know, that, in
Caesar's
Triumphs, Heaven but guards
Th' assaulted Greatness, which, Itself, inspir'd:
Rising
against Distress, Calphurnia smiles
At Traitor's Threats, and
brightens from Eclipse.
Fearless, to
persevere her Lord has taught her;
And, from meant Evil,
force unwilling
Good.
All, Thou must hope, when
Caesar's cloudless Star
Meets, and shines through, and burns above this Tempest;
Is—that
my Sentence may remain suspended,
Till the
Dictator's never-wearied Mercy
Pours Penitence, on the touch'd Heart of
Brutus.
PORTIA.
Slow Blessings come too late, and bring new Curses:
This, but a Moment past, had sav'd us, Both:
Now, Portia rules not, here:—Tis angry
Cassius:
The proud
Conspirators possess my Gates,
And
Brutus, absent, leaves me to their Power,
He flew, to
warn those rash, discover'd,
Romans:
But hasty Rage makes frustrate every Care.
To kind Forgiveness of a Friend's first Fault:
To our past Wish's, and our present Fears:
For, ah! Who knows, what dire Events
impend,
To blast eluded Hope, and make
both wretched?
—Come, to
my Chamber, let us sadly move,
Pensive, from Fear, and terrified for Love:
There, let us mourn
Ambition's restless Rage,
And mutual Mise'ry mutual Help engage.
CALPHURNIA,
Warm, from my willing Heart, I join that Prayer,
Ne're may Ambition
waste a good Man's Care!
Vain are his Hopes reluctant Foes to
bless:
And still, the more his Toils, his Praise the less.
End of the Fourth
ACT.
ACT.V.
SENEI.
A Court before the Capitol.
CASSIUS, CIMBER, CINNA, CASCA.
CIMBER.
Sure! Never Day
ran back, like this, before!
So sweet a Dawn, so chang'd, at once to
Tempest:
CASSIUS.
Chang'd, like the
Fate of
Rome! Above, tis
Sunshine:
Beneath, tis, all, due
Darkness!—Senate's Power
Shall brighten, and plebeian Clouds ride
low.
What hasty
Footstep that?
CIMBER.
[Page 81]
—'Tis
Decimus!
Enter Decimus.
CASSIUS.
Alone! Why comes not
Brutus?
DECIMUS.
—Near thy
House
I met him hast'ning to suppend our Meeting:
And urg'd the general Cause, that claim'd his Presence.
CASSIUS.
He shou'd not, yet, have heard of
Portia's Danger,
Nor
Caesar's
Warrant, found.—
DECIMUS.
I told no more
Than that
Torbilius, trusted with our
Names,
Lodg'd 'em, in
Caesar's Hand.—So, what, before,
Was common
Glory, common
Safety, now,
Demanded instant:—therefore, here we met,
No more to part, till
Rome, or
Caesar fall.
CASSIUS.
Heard he that, firmly?
DECIMUS.
He's at Hand, to join us.
CASSIUS.
Then Fate is
Ours: And this proud Climber's
Height
Sinks to the Level, where his Name shall rot:
Mark, with what
Ease a Tyrant's Empire falls!
But yesterday, this Man's exalted Praise
Trod on the
Stars: and
Caesar was a
God!
And mix his powerless Ashes with the Dust.
CIMBER.
Hark! Was not that a
Scream?
CASSIUS.
Some Prophet
Raven,
That, conscious, on the
Dome's high moold'ring Roos,
Feels, and foretells, that
Caesar's Ghost is
rising.
A Noise hear'd, without, like the Fall of a Building
CIMBER.
Some horrid
Ruin that!
CASSIUS.
Look out, good
Decimus.
DECIMUS.
Looking out
Amazement! The long, venerable, Line
Of Statues,—All
Rome's old, and aweful
Chiefs
Lie fallen! And shapeless Fragments load the Floor!
Long, and loud Thunder.
CIMBER.
Shoud not a Change, like this, that mixes Palaces
With the up heaving
Center, at the Moment,
When our bold Purpose
moves, alarm our Caution?
CASSIUS.
Blow, till ye burst, ye big-mouth'd
Menacers!
'Tis but a
Breeze, to Hearts, inflam'd for Glory.
CIMBER.
Breeze!—In such Breezes, Furies imp their Wings
Death! The Storm howls, as if the Winds felt
Envy;
And woudd
out-mouth the Thunder!—Call ye
This
A
Breeze?—my Feet want Steadiness!—The Pavement,
[Page 83] Heav'd, in disjointed Surge, rolls loose beneath me.
CASSIUS.
By Heaven, tis Glorious Ruin!—Round our Heads
Fall
Rome's imperial Turrets:—Earthquake, and Tempest
Plow the mix'd Elements: Noises, far heard,
Live, in the Winds, and
Voice the frantic Air.
Day darkens: and the Eye of Heaven seems
quench'd.
Nature's wide-loos'ning Fabrick
shakes, about us!
While
we, with Nerves of Steel, press on to Vengeance.
Oh! my brave Friends! What future Fame is Ours!
What
Cato cou'd not—what nor
Asia's Aid,
Nor
Pompey's failing
Fleets—not tawny
Afric,
With all her Sun-defying Swarms of War!
We few—we,
Roman Few
—have done—this Day!
CIMBER.
One Way, or other, we shall
serve the
Senate:
Living, we set it
free.—And, if we
die,
We teach it to
vote safe;—and rail, in
private.
DECIMUS.
See! What a pensive Visage
Brutus brings!
CASSIUS.
Save us! He looks, as if the tumbling
Statues
Had crush'd him into
Cowardice!
SCENE II.
CASSIUS, CIMBER, DECIMUS,
CINNNA, CASCA, BRUTUS.
BRUTUS.
Rome's
lost.
CIMBER.
Then,
Coesar timely
warn'd, has shun'd his
Danger.
BRUTUS.
[Page 84]
No.—The last Thing,
Caesar will shun, is
Danger.
—Roman's! Att
[...]nd; and weep your Country's Fate:
I swore the Death of
Caesar:—Curse me not,
Ye
Parent Gods!—I thought it
due, to
Rome.
To Law—to Liberty—to
Man's lost Rights;
To Power's Restraint, and a deliver'd World.
The Hour—the dreadful Hour, high Heaven!
I nam'd!
Ev'n now, its, last dire Moment calls on
Brutus:
And now, ev'n
now, Brutus is
Caesar's—SON!
Conspirator's, all start, and look down, in a speechless Astonishment.
BRUTUS
after a long Pause.
Servilia was in secret wedlock join'd—
And gave
He
[...]self, and
me—to
Caesar's Love.
Conspirators still silent, fix'd, and amaz'd.
BRUTUS.
After another short Pause.
Is there a
Roman, so benumb'd of Soul,
So firm, so passionless, so steel'd a
Stoick!
So nerv'd, beyond all vulgar Strength of
Man!
That he dares
urge what
Brutus swore to
do?
Cassius!—Thou tremblest.—
CASSIUS.
Thou shalt tremble,
too,
At the last Counsel, I will live, to give thee.
BRUTUS.
Think, e're thou speak'st—for
Nature is at Stake;
And, list'ning, dreads th' Advice, thou dar'st obtrude.
CASSIUS.
Mark then—were
Brutus of
Plebeian Mould,
Cassius wou'd say,
serve on: The Tyrant Son
[Page 85] Shou'd aid th' Ambition of the Tyrant Father.
Rome had but mark'd
two Caesar's for
one Fate.
But thou wer't born her
Friend—thy Name is
Brutus,
And every
Brutus breath'd, to
bless Mankind.
Thy changeless Heart, inflexible for Virtue,
Patriots a Tyrant Blood, tho' drawn from
Caesar.
BRUTUS.
Be dumb—be warn'd—'twere
impious more to hear thee,
CASSIUS.
Nay mark—thou know'st what
Cataline propos'd,
When, with a Rebel Hand, he shook his Country:
BRUTUS.
I know it,
Cassius!
CASSIUS.
—On that lawless Day,
When, desp'rate, he presum'd an Act, like
Caesar's,
Suppose—all—wily, with a Tyrant's
Craft,
This
Catiline had claim'd thee, for his
Son?
BRUTUS.
Roman thou wrong'st me.—
CASSIUS.
Call me, then
no Roman:
BRUTUS.
Twas a disgraceful Question:—It imply'd,—
A
Brutus might be
brib'd, to wrong his Country.
CASSIUS.
Caesar yet
lives.—
BRUTUS.
—Caesar—and
Catiline!
Gods!—what Disparities thou yok'st together!
—That
Caesar's
Policy not
feigns me His,
[Page 86] Learn—I have Proof, too plain.
—Servilia spoke
Spoke, from the Shades of
Death, and own'd me
Caesar's.
CASSIUS.
Did her
Ghost tell this Dream?
BRUTUS.
The
Dream is
Thine,
Light
Cassius!—She confess'd it, in her Letter:
CASSIUS.
Caesar has
Arts, beyond thy honest reaching,—
But, let it pass
—Caesar is
Caesar, still;—
Be
Bru
[...]us cheated, by his Tale, or no—
He no less guilty.
—Thou no less a
Roman.
BRUTUS.
If he's my
Father.—
CASSIUS.
Rome was still his
Mother:
Where lives a bolder
Paricide, than
Caesar?
BRUTUS.
Away—my shrinking
Soul abhors thy Purpose!
If I am
Caesar's
Son, Caesar, to
me,
Is faultless:—Nature made me
not his Judge.
And, till
Rome's
Gods redeem her,
Brutus dares not.
CASSIUS.
If
Duty binds—thy
Soul was
Son to
Cato:
He form'd thy Truth, thy Firmness, and thy Virtue:
He taught thee to
revere the Gods, thou swor'st by:
And feel the sacred Force, that firms on
Oath.
BRUTUS.
Perish an Oath
—against the Birth, I
breathe by!
CASSIUS.
Thou but contribut'st
Faith, to help
Deceit!
I
know, thou art not.
BRUTUS.
Cassius!—If I
am!
—What Clash of Contradictions rends my Soul!
Horror, and Piety,
divide my Virtue,
Save Caesar, all ye Gods!—But
save Rome from him,
CASSIUS.
Caesar must not be safe,—Or,
Rome must fall.
BRUTUS.
Oh,
Cassius! partial
Hatred weighs unjustly:
Mercy so tempers his Pretence to Power,
That Tyranny grows
safe—and
looks, like Freedom.
CASSIUS
There is an awful Equity, that towre's
Above Men's private Passions:—Tyrants
die.—
And
Sons of Tyrants
want their Father's Virtues:
Then bleeds a groaning State! and
Right, and
Rapine
Descend from Heir to Heir, for ten red Ages,
E're comes
Another Caesar.—Hence, 'us
Mercy,
When One Man dies, to save the Blood of
Nations.
BRUTUS.
Dies, Cassius!—by a SON!—Oh! righteous Heaven!
Ayert the impending
Horror!—Foe to
Nature,
Hint it no more—Or,
Brutus, turns the Sword,
Thou point'st at
Caesar's Life—against thy
own.
CASSIUS,
I've
heard I am
too hasty!—Judge me
Romans:—
You, who have seen the Proof, that Heaven has lent me;
[Page 88] Judge, to what
daring Length, this rash, blind, Man
Provokes his Friend's Impatience:—Let that punish thee.
Gives him Caesar's
Table-Book.
Read
there, what envied Rights thy Birth derives
From
Caesar's Blood—who, thus, cou'd sentence
Thine.
BRUTUS.
Reading.
"Wrong'd
Caesar claims Redress from
Curio's
Sword'
"Be this his
Warrant for dispatching
—Brutus.
—If this was
Caesar's, he believ'd me
not
His
Son.—and I have treated
Truth, unkindly,
CASSIUS.
Yes—thou hast thank'd us well!—these Friends!—this
Cassius,
Who in the
Grove, from
Caesar's Murderers,
sav'd
Doom'd
Portia, thy Belov'd! on Death's dire Verge.
And seizing
Curio, found that Warrant with him.
BRUTUS.
Reviewing the Warrant.
By Heav'n! tis
Caesar's
Hand.
CASSIUS,
—Tis
Caesar's
Heart:
He judg'd the Virtue, like his
own-Disguise:
So try'd Corruption's Power—and held out
Hope
Of proud
Succession: Thou, if
Caesar's Son.
Wert Heir to
Caesar's Empire.—Failing, there,
He found One surer Way:
—Marius, his Uncle,
Had taught him, that
dead Foes resist no longer.
BRUTUS.
Oh! it is all, too plain!—Come,
Cassius! Cimber!
Decimus! Casca! Cinna!—Guardian Friends?
Dwell in my Bosom; share the
Joy, you give:
Oh; I cou'd play the Wanton—let loose Pleasure;—
Laugh with the light: grow thoughtless, and
forget
Rome's
Danger, for a
Day—to Cherish Rapture!
Now, where's the
Tempest?- where's the
Thunder, Now?
Loud let it rend, unfear'd, the Arch of Heaven:
Tis ominous, no longer:—let it roar
Delightful? Brutus is no Son of
Caesar!
That! let it
swell that Sound?—let it to Earth,
Air—Heaven, and lowest
Hell's lost Hope
—proclaim,
That
Roman Brutus is not SON to
Caesar.
CASSIUS.
Thank the kind Gods, who sav'd thee from such Horror.
BRUTUS.
Indulgent Heaven! were I like happier
Roman's,
Nature had now set free my patriot Hand,
And
Brutus were again,
but Friend to
Caesar.
CASSIUS:
Time calls;—the Senate waits us.
BRUTUS.
Stay, stay
Cassius!
I feel, I know not what, of Nameless
Doubting,
Still, hov'ring dark, and slack'ning half my Heart:
Oh! I am,
yet, his Son.—A
Friends a Father:
And
That kind Title has been,
ever, Caesar's.
Trumpet heard at a distance.
Help Heaven! that Trumphet calls him to his Fate!
Fly,
Decimus? prevent him: court him
hither:
For the
last Time, I'll
press my Power, to
save him.
CASSIUS.
Think—how expos'd thou leav'st the Friends of
Rome!
BRUTUS.
[Page 90]
If I betray you, may the Gods, I swore by,
Revenge your Cause! and
Rome renounce my Name!
CASSIUS.
On thy known Truth, deserted we depend:
Fix'd in Belief, as if those Gods, invok'd,
Stood Pledges for thy Purpose.—On to the Senate.
Exeunt all, except Brutus.
BRUTUS.
alone.
Immortal Taskers of this fatal Moment!
Free my entangled Thoughts from gathering Darkness,
And let
Rome's safety flow from
Caesar's Will!
—He comes—Oh, Shade of
Cato! guard my Virtue
SCENE III.
BRUTUS, CAESAR. and LICTORS.
CAESAR.
To the Lictors.
Retire, and wait within:—I wou'd be private.
Exeunt Lictors.
They tell me, thou ha'st
Secrets to impart:
What are they?
BRUTUS.
—May the Soul of
Rome inspire me!
CAESAR.
Wilt thou be Son to
Caesar?
BRUTUS.
—Caesar's Son,—
With
Pride—if
Caesar will be Son of
Rome.—
CAESAR.
Again?—persumptous Weakness!
know thy Duty:
Whether wou'd popular Pretension drive Thee?
BRUTUS.
To
live for Liberty—Or
die for Glory:
CAESAR.
[Page 91]
Thou mean'st a Substance, but thou serv'st a Name.
BRUTUS.
Rome's Senate held her Freedom
more than
Name.
CAESAR.
Her Senate, rich and proud, oppress'd her People:
Her People, poor and headstrong, spurn'd their Yoke:
Hence, rose the new Necessity, thou see'st not,
Of some unformal, Self-supporting
Sword,
To cut Sedition boldly, to it's
Root,
And rectify the crooked Growth of Empire.
This done—regenerate
Rome grown
fit f
[...]r Liberty,
Make it thy future Gift:—and, therefore reign.
Now, 'tis Seditian's Cloak.—Her Trumpet's
Call,
That State-disturbers arm by.
BRUTUS.
Teach the
Senate
These found Defects; and shape their wish'd Redress,
Theirs is the Right to
think, for
councell'd Rome:
Caesar a
King—Were all his Virtues
Stars,
Rome's Rights invading, makes his Virtues—Crimes.
Caesar a
Citizen, protecting Law,
Mix'd
with the People, reigns the People's
God.
CAESAR.
What Law?
what People?—Government grew
Graft,
And
Violation throve by Law's Protection:
Power's tott'ring Ballance shall be fix'd more
justly.
BRUTUS.
What
single Hand has Right to fix
Rome's Scale?
CAESAR.
[Page 92]
All Men have
Nature's Right, to bless their Country.
BRUTUS.
Blessings are
Insuits, if by Force, impos'd.
CAESAR.
Then
Heaven, that bless'd an
unconcurring World,
Insulted Nature's Freedom.
BRUTUS.
Give up the
Stubborn;
Trust
Rome to
Rome; and Freedom, to the
God.
CAESAR.
Errors that spring
from Pity, call for Pity.
BRUTUS.
Pity thy Country's
Tears: the Groans of
Millions!
CAESAR.
I
did.—and, therefore, I assum'd
Dominion.
BRUTUS.
Dominion adds no Fame to Worth like
Caesar's:
Nature proclaim'd
Thee Noblest.—Deeds, like thine,
Raise their Performer's
Rank, till
King sounds poorly,
Times purple plunderers, All, shall steal
thy Name,
And bid their proudest
Title be but
—Caesar.
CAESAR.
Surphace, without a
Depth!—false Patriots, thus,
Busied in
Forms, let slip the
Soul of Purpose!
While with delusive Toil, thou plow'st for Freedom,
Cheated by
factious Seed, thou
sow'st but
Slavery.
Against
One fansied Tyrant, blindly warm'd,
Thou, for a
Hundred, help'st to curse thy Country.
BRUTUS.
They curse their Country, who disturb her
Peace;
And march their iron Legions, o'er her Bosom.
CAESAR.
[Page 93]
I shew'd thee, obstinate, persisting Rebel!
Peace had no
Root, in
Rome:—Her Rights were
Forms:
Her Senate—a loud Hive of insect
Kings;
That robb'd, and stung: and call'd Oppression
—Priviledge.
Their lawful sovereign Lord, the People
—Slaves:
Slaves! in the Mockery of imagin'd Freedom!
See thy Misguiders rightly.—Trust a Father:
Affection
cannot injure:—Thou art
pale!
Look on me
Brutus!—What new Dream disturbs thee?
BRUTUS.
—Wake me some
Roman God!
CAESAR.
—Wake thee, to
feel
Nature's lost Power.
BRUTUS,
—I feel it
All, for
Caesar.
CAESAR.
What woud'st thou teach my Doubts to apprehend?
BRUTUS.
Vengeance, and
Death, from
Romans.
CAESAR.
Vengeance is
Mine:
I won it in the Field,—to throw it back,—
And scorn'd the unmanly Trophy:
Death is my Friend:
Come, when it will—tis but discharge from Care:
'Tis but to 'scape false Fears, and real Sorrows,
'Tis but to rest from Wrongs, and rise to Glory.
BRUTUS.
There's not an unbought
Roman, in the Senate,
But meditates thy Murder.
CAESAR.
[Page 94]
Murderers,
Brutus;
Kill their own Character:—He, whom they strike,
Dies, to his Memory's
Profit.—All, they can
dare,
When they attempt like Men,—like
Man, Itll meet.
BRUTUS.
But shou'd they
mean some dark, dishonest Blow?
CAESAR.
Then
Heav'n, that hates the
base, will strike the Strikers.
BRUTUS.
If thou
can'st fear, fear
All.
CAESAR.
To say, I
cannot,
Were light:—I
will not, Brutus.—Feeble
Fear
Is a low, fruitless, Passion:—It unnerves
Resistance; and obscures Prevention's
Eye:
Meets a'short Blow, half-way;—and aids its Weakness
Life is not worth a Fear.
BRUTUS.
Fear for Mankind;
Fear, for the sate of
Rome, that
loses Caesar.
CAESAR.
No more. I know
Rome's wants, and reign, to serve he▪
Menace to me, means Nothing: spare thy Terrors:
Not ev'n the Threats of
Heaven alarm the
Just:
Shou'd the contending
Elements break
loose,
And into formless Atoms,
rend the
World,
The Friend of Truth
must fall—but falls
unshaken.
BRUTUS.
Oh,
Caesar!—my full Heart!
—farewell, forever.
Turning away, Disordered.
CAESAR.
[Page 95]
Brutus, in
Tears!—so mourn we Griefs, we
make?
Immortal Gods!—what
Madness blinds Conceit!
He, who, unmov'd, resists the Voice of
Nature,
Melts, in imagin'd Woes, and weeps for
Rome.
BRUTUS.
No:—I but
die for
Rome.—I
weep for
Caesar,
Exit, in
Confusion.
SCENE IV.
CAESAR, TRINOVANTIUS.
CAESAR.
What? my bold
Briton—Welcome,
Trinovantius,
I love thy Country's Virtues.
TRINOVANTIUS.
Caesar, hail!
When thy Friends
fear—and ev'en a
Brutus weeps.
May thy
Gods guard thee, as thy
Soldier wou'd!
CAESAR.
Long, has thy brave and faithful
Cohort serv'd Me;
What are their
Want's?—teach
Caesar how please Thee.
TRINOVANTIUS.
No
Briton wastes a Prayer upon
Himself,
When his
Friend's Life's in
Danger.
CAESAR.
What then woud'st thou?
TRINOVANTIUS.
The
Senate, met, and full of seeming Faith,
Wait thy wish'd Presence;
—Rome's rais'd
Throne invitee, thee,
Thy plain, well-m
[...]aning. Friends, the Populace,
And pay their willing Worship to thy
Statues.
All the pleas'd City smiles.—Yet, cou'd
I move thee;
Cou'd thy old Soldier's first-felt
Fear perswade;—
Caesar shou'd
shun the sad-presaging Hour,
And bid this
Diadem attend his
Leisure.
CAESAR.
I thought, the Sons of
Thame's had felt no
Fears.
TRINOVANTIUS.
No Fears they feel from Earth's uniting Anger:
But▪ when
Heaven frowns, 'tis impious,
not to tremble.
All Nature, thro' her Works, seems, now,
convuls'd:
—I met the pali
[...]
Vestals, wildly screaming:
Fled, from the
e
[...]tin
[...]uish'd Fire, robeless, and
bare:
And blind amidst the Dust of
crumbling Towers;
Shook from the dark'nd Summits!—Doors of
Sepulchre's
Untouch'd, fly open: and from silent
Urns,
Where slept in Monumental Rest, the Bones
Of
Rome's first Founders, slow-ascending
Shades
Catch form;—and hov'ring, in the
quick'n'd Air,
View some
sad Fate, they want the Power to
tell:
And shrink, and start—and fly the sick'ning Sun.
—Such boding
Signs fore-note impending
Fate:
And Heaven, from whom Kings hold, postpones thy Claim.
CAESAR.
Fie
Trinovantius!—'T is to bold for
Man!
'Tis
Insolence, to list the Eternal
Gods:
Make Nature
bus, and
un-hinge a
World.
To lengthen, or cut short, a Mortal's Moment?
Th' all-ruling Powers have
fi
[...]'d our destin'd Space;
And we, too weak to
shun, must
wait their Will.
TRINOVANTIUS.
[Page 97] Tis whisper'd,—some great Names
unite for Mischief.
CAESAR.
Ambition, born for
Contest, owes Contempt
To Threat'ners.—
TRINOVANTIUS.
Yes.—But, cautious
Note of Treason,
Timely, and oft, averts the Traitor's Purpose.
CAESAR.
To live in daily
Dread, is daily
dying:
'
[...]is
worse than Death:—'Tis Sickness
never cur'd!
TRINOVANTIUS.
Suffer my
Briton's to surround the Temple,
And trust malicious
Senates to their Eye.
CAESAR.
Who awes his Enemy, submits to fear him.
—Stay, my good Friend, thou comst no farther on.
TRINOVANTIUS.
I leave thee,
Caesar! with a strange
Regret!
For my fore-boding Heart is filled with Terror.
CAESAR.
Be comforted.—Thou over-rat'st my Danger.
Three hundred
new Patrician's swell the
Senate:
All, mine, for their own Safety:—Half the
old,—
Names, like the
Julian, fam'd, e're
Rome was Rome!
Converts to slow-found Truth, embrace her warmly,
These, nobly owning, teach the
Rest to
owne,
When Error is
Disgrace, Retraction's
Virtue.
What apprehend'st thou, then, from that small Remnant,
Whose Weakness is too
wise, to dare their With,
TRINOVANTUS.
O,
Pallas! Pallas!—Guide of Martial
Caesar!
[Page 98] How grew the Master-Soldier of the World
Unmindful, what
Success, in Deeds of Blood,
Crowns
unexpected Rashness!—If we but
think
Th' Attempt impossible, we
make it safe.
—Had (but that Heaven forbids) this unfear'd
Few,
Weak as they seem, dar'd in full
Senate, strike,
Firm, and combin'd, at
Caesar's sacred
Life;
His Friends, th' astonish'd
many—powerless unnerv'd,
In Gaze of helpless Horror, had sat passive;
Each doubting each—a
Foe; till Fate had reach'd thee,
And, while Prevention paus'd, Presumption triumph'd.
CAESAR.
Briton! Thy Heart is manly: and thy Mind
Adorn'd with every Gift of Faith, and Wisdom!
Act, as thy Doubts inspire thee.—Since
thou fear'st,
'Tis strange, that I, too, cannot!—Yet, beware,
Thou call'st no Aid of
Arms:—Civil
to Civil,
And, but to
martial military.—Hear'st thou
Loud Cry of A Caesar
—A Caesar!
You shoutig Swarm, that shakes
Rome's echoing
Domes?
Lead those
loud Voters, from the o'rerowded Streets,
To where their Cry may reach the
Senate's Ear:
'Twill caution Guilt, perhaps! And aid Resolves.
TRINOVANTIUS.
Thanks to the Gods, thy Friends! Who led thee, once,
To charm our fraudless
Isle!—By
them inspir'd,
One grateful
Briton saves the
Roman Soul!
Caesar,
and Trinovantius,
turn to go off, on opposite Sides.
SCENE V.
TORBILIUS. (Ent'ring hastily.)
TRINOVANTIUS.
meeting him.
Bless thy quick Step! Com'st thou to hold back
Caesar?
TORBILIUS.
Brave
Islander, I
do:
TRINOVANTIUS.
Emperor! Dictator!
CAESAR.
Hush thy too busy Terrors.
TRINOVANTIUS.
Aside.
Hold him, sweet
Roman!
Tun'd
Eloquence is thine: Tell him some
Tale,
No matter on what Subject, make it but
long,
Exit hastily.
CAESAR.
seeing Torbilius.
Why art THOU, here!—Did
Brutus vote for Murder?
TORBILIUS.
Shun the met
Senate:—All mean Murder,
there:
CAESAR.
All cannot.—Thou defam'st too
broadly:—WHO?
TORBILIUS.
The Patriot Faction.
CAESAR.
Thou has't
yoak'd Ideas,
Which Reason must
divide.—Patriot, and Faction,
Like
Oil on
Waters, mix, when strongly
shaken:
But never can
unite.—disjoin'd, by Nature!
TORBILIUS.
Patriot's can
envy.—And who envies
—hates.
CAESAR.
[Page 100]
Let 'em hate on.—In Men, who love their Country,
Envy but quickens Virtue.
TORBILIUS.
This black
List
Contains O,
Caesar! thirty Traitor's Names:
Traitors, by great
Calphurnia's Care detected:
Traitors, who under
Friendship's fair Disguise,
Have with confederate Malice,
sworn thy Murder.
CAESAR.
Taking the Roll.
Did my
Calphurnia send thee?
TORBILIUS.
Caesar, she
did:
CAESAR.
My
Friend's Names, say'st thou, in this Roll of
Traitors?
TORBILIUS.
All thy most
trusted, most
distinguished Friends?
CAESAR.
After a Pause, returning the Roll, unopened.
Take
back thy bloody List. and
hide Man's baseness:
Where
Trust is tainted by such dire
Deceit,
Life is not
worth preserving.
TORBILIUS.
Lov'd
Calphurnia.
Demands it:—for her sake, repress thy Scorn.—
Stay but to go
well-guarded.
CAESAR,
Against
Enemies,
Caesar suffices for the
Guard of
Caesar:—
But, against Friends, Distrust were
Violation.
TORBILIUS.
Holding his Robe.
Stay, but to be
convinced—ill-fated
Caesar!
CAESAR.
[Page 101]
I
will not be convinced, that
Faith is Weakness.
W
[...]o wou'd take Pains to
lose that Peace, he feels,
From generous Confidence in human Virtues?
If there
are Wretches, who, oblig'd,
betray,
'Tis Comfort,
not to know 'em
Exit Caesar
SCENE VI.
To TORBILIUS
enter TRINOVANTIUS
and two Roman
Officers.
TORBILIUS.
Oh! farewell,
Rome's Fame!—Her
Evil Genius has prevail'd:
And
Caesar's
Death shall doom declining Empire.
Exit.
TRINOVANTIUS.
Repelling a crowd of Plebeians?
Stand back, keep distance; reverence the sitting Senate:
Whom will you crown your
King?
PLEBEIANS.
A
Caesar.! A
Caesar!
TRINOVANTIUS.
Bless your concurring Joy! ye grateful People!
Caesar is yours—and you are justly
Caesar's!
Crown him with Rapture.—For were
Caesar King,
Rome had
no Tyrants: All your lordly
Patrons,
Stripp'd of oppressive Power, shall call you
Brothers.
Office, with equal Eye, shall search for
Skill,
And Liberty become the
poor Man's Claim.
There
are, who justly dread in
Caesar's Crown,
His Love of the
Unhappy:—dread his
Pity.
He will not see the groaning Debtor
sold,
[Page 102] To feed the rich Man's Luxury.—No Tears
Of starving
Want;—no iron Hand of Law;
No Slaves to fellow-subjects, shall make
sad
The Streets of
happy Rome—If
Caesar reigns.
A cry from within—Liberty! Liberty: Liberty!
Hark! in that Cry, arose no voice of
Joy!
By Heaven; they Murder
Caesar! guard this Door,
Good
Romans! Fulvius! Aetius! your try'd Swords,
And mine, dare
enter.—Follow
Me, and save him.
As they are going off, with their Swords drawn; they are stopt by
Antony, who enters disordered.
ANTONY.
Spare your meant Aid:—alas! it comes to late:
Murder, with all
Briareus's hundred Hands,
Pierc'd the
World's
Soul—and Conquest
is no more.
TRINOVANTIUS.
Curses consume their Names; what villain Hand!—
ANTONY.
Casca struck first.
—Caesar, up-starting seiz'd
The assassin Steel—back plung'd it home,—and cry'd,
No—villain
Casca! No—thus, thy own
Poiniard
Corrects thy feeble Purpose:
—die—
die—Traitor!
Down to the expecting Shades—say
Caesar sent thee.
There, press'd beneath a storm of Wounds, at once,
He stood, and frown'd, and bled, on every Side:
Moving at last, Majestic—the red Hand
Of miscreant
Brutus met his radiant Eye.
Then
thus.—
All, cruel Murderers? what!
All?
And Thou! My SON 1 My BRUTUS! Nay then, to
conquer,
Speaking, he sunk:—Soft, o'er his manly form,
Smooth'd his disorder'd Robe—and, sighless,
died.
Cry again, from within, Liberty! Liberty!
TRINOVANTIUS.
Edge this true Sword, kind Heaven! they dare
descend.
Advancing to meet the Conspirators, he is held back by Marc Antony.
SCENE VII.
TRINOVANTIUS, ANTONY,
and Officers, CASSIUS, DECIMUS, CINNA, MARCELLUS,
with bloody Daggers.
'Tis past—Ambition bleeds; and
Rome is
free:
Hail Lords of
Rome reviv'd! Nation of
Princes.
Now once more,
Masters of a World, you won!
Dare
vindicate the Hands, that
broke your Chain.
TRINOVANTIUS.
struggling against Antony.
Cowards! cold-hearted
Cowards!—You, who thus
Fear to
Revenge—'tis you, have
murder'd Caesar.
ANTONY.
No,
Trinovantius.—Trust the Gods, and
Rome.
With
Caesar's Vengeance!—carefull, thro' the Crowd,
I seek, but find not
Brutus.
CIMBER.
Enters wounded
—Who nam'd
Brutus?
CASSIUS.
'Twas
Antony—come forward, valiant
Cimber!
Where ha'st thou left our Chief?
CIMBER.
[Unhappy Brutus!
Struck, by the Words, and Look, of dying
Caesar,
When, from a Gallery, bursting in,
above,
Held twixt the
frantic Vestals, there appear'd
Cato'
[...] yet living Sister
—lost Servilia!
See! cry'd the breathless Trembler,
-Traitor! Paricide!
Call'd by
thy Crimes, in vain, from a Retreat,
W'ere
hid, (not
dead) I shun'd a hated World,
Thy Mother's blasted Eye,—fell Monster! Murderer!
Finds thee, too late: And ev
[...]ry God shall Curse thee,
She
scream'd, and sunk, amid the vestal Train.
Brutus! all Wild, as with a
Fury's Horror,
Gaz'd, up, down, round—wrung his clos'd Hands—ran—stopt,
Return'd—then, with a bursting sigh, resum'd
Composure: kneel'd, and kiss'd the Robe of
Caesar?
But sn
[...]tchin
[...] a fall'n
Dagger, rose, distracted,
And cry'd—take, take me Vengeance!
Rome is
free:
"But
Brutus, in her Cause, has
stabb'd a Father!
Near, as he aim'd the meditated Blow,
I br
[...]ke its erring Force—and on this Arm,
Receiv'd the pointed Mischief.—So,
prevented,
I left him, 'midst a Guard of weeping
Romans.
ANTONY.
Well may he
weep!—but when he
reads a Charge,
The murder'd Father left the murdering Son;
What will he
then endure?—what
Cave has Earth,
So deep, so dark, to hide him from
Himself!
When he shall see, that, to his bloody Hand;
Caesar consign'd the Power to
fix Rom's Liberty.
CASSIUS.
Thou speak'st in Mystery,
Marc Antony!
ANTONY.
[Page 105]
Move to the
Forum.—In the Face of
Rome,
I shall unfold the
Will of
Rome's lost Guardian.
CASSIUS.
Cou'd artful
Antony, prove
Caesar wrong'd;
Cassius wou'd then
confess, he was
too hasty.
ANTONY.
Traitor! thy willing
Envy lov'd the Error:
And thou shalt expiate—far, as lowest
Vice.
Too weakly can attone for murdered
Virtue,
This Hour's detested Guilt, by
Death and
Infamy.
TRINOVANTIUS.
Summon the People:—I'll revenge this Murder;
Then, mourn lost
Rome—and guard
Britannia's Liberty.
Exeunt Roman Offic
[...]rs,
and Plebeians.
ANTONY.
coming forward.
Had but Ambition
Eyes, to look thro' Time,
Twoud see its
[...]rui
[...]l
[...]ss Toil, and shun to climb:
Fondness of Noise, and Crowds of Court would cease,
And Man's whole Happiness be plac'd in
Peace.
Safe Liberty would guard each Patriot
Throne,
And
Tyrant be, henceforth, a Name
unknown:
All Fruit of Power is
Pain: and what is
Fame?
When ev'n a
Caesar's Glory stains his Name.
The END.
EPILOGUE. In D [...]etta:
CALPHURNIA.
WHAT think ye
[...] Sirs, of ou
[...] Quack-stage
Ph
[...]sician;
Who gives Folks Pills, in Verse—to cure
Ambition?
PORTIA.
entering Opposite
Fifty to One, he
breaks:—for, to my Knowledge,
That Cure's too hard, even for our
Female College!
And, (don't look silly, Sirs, when plainly
told it)
Where we give out, You've poor Pretence, to hold it.
CALPHURNIA.
Well—but, pray, Madam!—was not this
Intrusion?
Two—to One Epilogue?
PORTIA.
Bar—false Conclusion.
Cupid, that yokes you
Smarts, nere dragg'd 'em hither,
Till
broke to Female Tongues,
Twice Two, together
CALPHURNIA.
Nay—if
They're pleas'd, I am.—your
Plot? pray tell us.
PORTIA.
The Plot, of
Petticoats—to charm the
Fellows.
CALPHURNIA.
Hang Petticoats.—I came, to roast
Sedition.
PORTIA.
Well. and I'll souse it's
Cause,—Stand clear,
Ambition.
Begin.—
CALPHURNIA.
Do you
PORTIA.
I dare not.
CALPHRNIA.
Why?
PORTIA.
Depend on't
My Tongue, once well beginning, makes no end on't
CALPHURNIA.
N
[...] matter.
—Woman's Woman's
Match, nere fear it.
PORTIA.
Is She?—come.
plead the
[...]use—The
Bench shall hear it.
CALPHURNIA.
turns to the Audience
Tho', born, a
Maid.—and, therefore, no
Man-hater.
There's ONE
He Thing I
loathe—and That's, a
Traitor.
[...]. Contentless Monster▪—form'd to
grumble.
No
King can please him—and no
Wife can humble.
[Page] What'ere hard Durance binds him,—(make no doubt on't)
He'll find some strange new Hole. and creep safe ou't on't.
Horrid, the
Traitor's
Wife's abhorr'd Condition!
PORTIA.
Worse, ten times worse, the
Maid's, that weds
Ambition!
Oh▪ Ladies!—too, too apt, to over rate it,
Catch a few, private
Hints: and learn to hate it.
The
Traitor, once for all's,
but hang'd and
quiet:
Th'
ambitious Fribbler's
Life's one, long-stretch'd,
Riot.
Like a Nun's Flannel Shift, worn
close, to
teaze ye.
Ais Cow-itch Clasp sticks fast, and fondly yeFleas
CALPHURNIA.
Now, tis
my Turn to speak
—Avant, SEDITION!
PORTIA.
Not yet, this half hour.—Ladies, fly AMB
[...]T
[...]ON
Husbands, who that hard
horny Taste, inherit,
Dry, like
'still Rose-Cakes, and turn, all, to
Spirit.
Wrapt in
Thought's Cloud, they're like (no doubt) to
chear ye,
CALPHURNIA.
Who see, hear, touch.—and, yet, scarce know, there near ye.
Good
Friend, and dear
Ally!—henceforth,
uniting,
Spite of
bad Patterns, let's
join Hands, for Fighting.
PORTIA.
A
Match. so join'd, each Star must
Conquest, mean us.
Lord help the poor
French Prig. that falls,
between us!
CALPHURNIA.
Say, what Ambition
is.
PORTIA.
Tis Treason's
Mother:
Nurse, of Debate—
CALPHURNIA.
Sly Devils! Both one, and To'ther!
What is
Sedition?
PORTIA.
Virtue's false
Pretence:
Religions
Cloak,—the
two-edg'd Sword, of Sense.
Tis Freedom's
resty Start: Pride's
patriot Plea:
Sound, that
ca'nt hear: and Sight, that
will not see.
Sedition! Thou art Discord never ending.
CALPHURNIA.
Ambition! Thou art
pointing to the Head
crack'd, past Power of mendingPast even
St. Edward's Cure, thou dire
King's Evil!
Thou first
Plague Mark,—on Angel, Man, and Devil!
Snubborn as
Woman's Will, thou hat'st Restriction:
And grow'st but ten Times
worse, for Contradiction.
PORTIA.
[Page]
Shun plotting Heads, dear Ladies—All miscarries,
When one, that hums and haws at Midnight,
—Marries,
Better, plain downright
Dunce. no Dreams pursuing.
CALPHURNIA.
One, that means bluntly and knows, what he's doing.
PORTIA.
Not him, whose towr'ing Mind, estrang'd from Pleasure,
Holds him, still
busiest,—when his Wife's at
Leizure.
CALPHURNIA.
Better, a
Sportsman, sound of Wind, and hearty.
PORTIA.
Better a
Sot—than Spouse
dry drunk with
Party.
CALPHURNIA.
A
hunting Husband
hallows, and wé
beár him.
PORTIA.
A
drunken Deary
Staggers, and we
steer him.
CALPHURNIA.
Each, conseious of his
Wife, take Care to make her,
One Way, or other—an indulged
Partaker.
But, your sage, Secret,
Politician Lover,
Has nothing, fit for Woman to discover,
PORTIA.
No. He's a deep, dark, pensive, Comfort-hater-Bodied for
Solitude.
CALPHURNIA.
And
[...]ould—for
Satire.
PORTIA
Stranger, at home, he
looks abroad for Blessing!
And finds whatere he
has, not w
[...]rth Poss
[...]ssing.
CALPHURNIA
Freedom, and Mirth, and Health, and Joy
—despises.
PORTIA.
And Shuns all
Rest.—H
[...] so Profoundly,
wise, is!
CALPHURNIA.
At length, (Thank Heaven) he
dies: kind Vapours strike him.
And leaves behind—
PORTIA.
Ten Thousand Madmen,
like him,