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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.
WOMEN.

SCENE. The Capital, and Places adjoing.

[]THE ROMAN REVENGE.

ACT 1.

SCENE 1.

A Hall in Caeſar's Houſe.
CASSIUS. TORBILIUS. (Croſſing.)
CASSIUS.
STAY! turn!—The imperfect Dawn de⯑ceives 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.
[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.
[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;
[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:
[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:
[6] Caſſrus, thy Phaebus—and his Gold, thy Jove.
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 Plain⯑neſs.
CAESAR.
Own it with conſcious Shame.—If Truth loves Plain⯑neſs.
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:
[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 Dark⯑neſs.
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:
[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!
[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.
[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.
[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:
[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,
[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.
[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.

[15]
Caeſar, ſeated: Antony, Brutus, Caſſius, Cimber, De⯑cimus, 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 Feel⯑ing:
Speak, Brutus—were your Choice your General's Lea⯑der,
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.
[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.
[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;
[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
[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,
[20] That makes Men Siaves, at Soul.—THINK freely, Brutus
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.
[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.
[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,
[23] Shalt know, that, when fall'n Rome's degenerate Conſuls
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.
[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.

[25]

SCENE I.

A Room in Caeſar's Houſe. Two Chairs plac'd: Cal⯑phurnia, 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.
[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.
[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
[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.
[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,
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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:
[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.
[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!
[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 Ven⯑gance.
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:
[39] And, if this Blank, that, now, conceals his Name,
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,
[40] Stoops a loſt Smile, to grace Plebeian Lightneſs!
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:
[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.

[42]

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.
[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.

[44]
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,
[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 Friend⯑ſhip.
BRUTUS.
I will not ſee Calphurnia.
TORBILIUS.
[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 Ser⯑vice!
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.
[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.
[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,
[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 Gui⯑der!".
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:
[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.
[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.
[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!
[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.
[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
[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.—
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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:
[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,
[61] Brutus, unbow'd to Kings, may kneel to Caeſar.
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,
[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,
[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.
[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.

[65]
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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[69] Learn, from this bleeding Proof, that,—when I ſhrink
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.
[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.

[71]
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:
[72] Sav'd, whom thou lov'ſt, and loſt a Third vain Mercy,
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.
[73] Brutus becomes the Void, with bloody Grace;
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 juſ⯑tified:
[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.
[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.
[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,
[77] None, but a Devil, at once can cauſe, and bear.
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:
[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.

[79]
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.
[80] —Yet, claim what e're my Weakneſs can:—Tis due
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.
[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!
[82] To Day, the inſulting Foot of Rome ſhall ſpurn him,
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,
[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.
[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
[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,
[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!
[87] Thou art not—can'ſt not be—the Son of Caeſar:
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;
[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:
[89] Help me to thank the Gods, I'm once more Brutus?
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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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,
[96] Bear offer'd In [...]enſe, thro' the Streets-of Rome;
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.
[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!
[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.

[99]
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.
[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, re⯑turning 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.
[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,
[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,
[103] Were to perpetuate Pain:—and Death grows Joy.
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, CIN⯑NA, 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,
[104] He bow'd to weep upon the Wound, he made:
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.
[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.
[] 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 mending
Paſt 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.
[]
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,
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