University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

CÆSAR. BRUTUS. ANTONY.
CÆSAR.
—(after a long Look, fix'd earnestly upon Brutus,
Maxims, inhuman, fierce, and blind, like Thine,
Disgrace a Freeman's Name.
(Brutus turns to go)
—Stay, I command Thee;
Return, rash Man—and know—'tis Cæsar, calls.

BRUTUS.
(returning.)
All my adhering Heart feels Cæsar, King,
Leave but Rome's Senate free, devoted Brutus
Shall rest thy willing Slave.—

CÆSAR.
Proud, as Thou art
Of Liberty, thou hast not learnt, that Freedom,
Beyond all Yokes, hates, most, this Yoke of Prejudice,
That makes Men Slaves, at Soul.—Think freely, Brutus
And let us argue, like unbias'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?

CÆSAR.
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.

CÆSAR.
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 Scale most Weight, in Rome?

CÆSAR.
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.

CÆSAR.
Trust a try'd Sword.

BRUTUS.
Curse its bold Use—in any Hand, but Cæsar's,
When, to the vulgar Herd, it levels Nobles,
Born, to be Great—and mixes Hinds with Consuls.

CÆSAR.
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.

CÆSAR.
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.

CÆSAR.
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 Cæsar!—But Thou, Antony,
Shalt know, that, when fall'n Rome's degenerate Consuls
Live,—a King's Slaves,—Brutus shall die—a Roman.

[Exit.