University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Palace Garden.
Cæsario, Araspes, Leander.
Cæs.
By all the Trophies of the Conquer'd Field,
By ev'ry vanquish'd Sword, and batter'd Shield,
He dyes, though the Auxiliar Fates shou'd stand
To fence the lifted forces of my hand;
Though bulwark'd with Rome's Hills in Tow'rs of Brass,
Yet like Laocoon's Launce my Sword shall pass
Through all:—By Heav'n to Hell he shall be thrown,
His Universal mightiness shall down.

Aras.
Your ruine must inevitable be.

Cæs.
It matters not what shall become of me.
Though all the Winds from their black corners rush,
Though Seas dash Clouds, old Rocks young Thunder crush,
Exempt from fear th'event we will attend,
And with big rays in Ports of Glory end.
If I must fall, I'le tumble with a Crown,
And grasp this Giant with me when I drown.

Lea.
But, Royal Sir, can you your Friend forget?
Can an abuse so vast, a wrong so great
Be offer'd, that your Vows you shou'd recall?

Cæs.
Smoak, vanish air!—be they forgotten all.
No, dear Marcellus, you must pardon me;
A stroak! a stab! 'tis such an injury,
Were Jove in flesh and thunder'd with a blow,
I wou'd retort it like a God below.

Aras.
E're ruine swallows you take one look more,
While yet you stand upon the beaten shore.

Lea.
Yet e're you launch behold the rolling deep,
Where danger groans, and death it self does weep.

Cæs.
Hence with thy Coward counsels! fly to Caves!
I'le climb these tow'ring dangers bark the waves:
And as I ride to the kick'd Flouds I'le cry,
Bear Cæsar with his Fathers fortune high.
Why do ye ask me then, and vainly mourn?
Can words move death, or Time cariering turn?
Can human eloquence the Stars controul,
Or when their doom has damn'd it, save a Soul?
Pray to descending Storms, or mounting Fire;
Them ye may weary, me ye shall not tire.

Aras.
Since then no pray'rs can your wild fury tame,
The way least dang'rous to Revenge we'le name;
Though Cæsar from Heav'ns partial hand receive
Immediate pow'r, small vertue she did give.

Lea.
When fierce Embassadors from Parthia's King
Shew'd their huge Bows, and did long Arrows bring,
He to their threats in scornful answer laugh'd;
Yet this great Scoffer shrinks at Cupids shaft:
Still may his glutted hands more Empire have,
So he continue Love's inglorious slave.

Cæs.
What is his Mightiness by Beauty aw'd?
Is this th'Augustus so renown'd abroad,
The World's first man, and new created God?
The bright Narcissa with her Spring of charms,
'Tis true, has warm'd my heart half froze in Arms;
Her melting language strook my Winter back,
Loosn'd my Nerves, and made my heart-strings slack:
Yet were it possible that she cou'd weep
As long as I have practis'd toilsom War,
She shou'd not in her Lap my Honour keep,
Nor from its Trade my burning spirit bar.
When Conquest calls my Sword to fetch the prize,
And I stand listning to a Ladies cries,
Sighing to see the Roses pale,—O Heav'n!
O glorious War! let me be ne're forgiv'n.

Aras.
There is a Bower, the mystick seat of Love,
Where death stands Centinel before the Grove;
Guards ever waking at the threshold lye,
And suffer none but, Cæsar to pass by:
There his loose heart does in full Pastures graze,
And various Shes with awe upon him gaze.

Lea.
Like Heav'ns proud King follow'd by Deities,
The Tyrant walks with shinings through the Trees;
His brow dilates, and his purs'd lips awhile
Forget their angry use, and gravely smile,
To see officious Beauties charm his cares,
Like Nights black locks all powderd o're with Stars.

Aras.
There your revenge, if vengeance urge you still,
May glut your appetite, and drink her fill.
I have observ'd, and can your fury guide,
To a slight-guarded Gate oth' Tiber side,
Watch'd by some drowsie Slaves, not more then we,
Whom having kill'd, you may have passage free.

Cæs.
Methinks already thou hast talk'd 'em dead,
And I am o're the fatal Barriers fled,
Like Perseus mounted on a Stead of Air,
Beating the Lists to find the Monster there.

Lea.
There you may take him swoln with drunken joy,
And the Crown'd brute with a full stroak destroy:
Behold him sporting on spread Memphian spoils,
In Mantles wrap'd that breath rich od'rous oils,
Like a gay Snake basking in Sunny fields,
Embrac'd by her who ripest pleasure yields.

Cæs.
Be gone, now instantly let's post away,
The black revenging minutes will not stay;
As the half-god Augæan Stables clear'd,
I'le purge these Gardens with his bloud besmear'd.
Slow till the deed be done move the wing'd hours,
I'le do't though Dragons guard the golden Bowers.

Exeunt.