University of Virginia Library

SCENE. I.

CASSIUS, CIMBER, DECIMUS, CINNA, CASCA, and the other Conspirators.
CASSIUS.
At length the time draws near, when Rome shall gain
A new existence; this auspicious day
The mistress of the world shall burst the bonds
Of her usurping lord. To you belongs
This unexampled glory, Cimber, Casca,
Probus, and Decimus. A single hour
Is the brief period of the tyrant's fate.
What Cato, Pompey, Asia's powers combined,
Fail'd to perform, our small determined band
Shall execute, we shall avenge our country.
While sounds like these shall strike th'astonish'd world,
Respect ye sons of men, imperial Rome!
Her chains exist no more.

CIMBER.
Connected by the strongest ties we stand
Prepar'd to follow thee, to strike, to die.
To live, if life with honour may be purchased;
To serve the senate, levelling with the dust
Cæsar's ambition, or to fall ourselves.

DECIMUS.
But wherefore look we round in vain for Brutus?
The mortal foe of this abhorred tyrant?
Who prompted, and receiv'd our solemn oaths?
Whose dagger must th'example give to ours?
This tardiness methinks agrees not well
With Cato's son-in-law.—Yet may he not
Be stopp'd by force? And Cæsar have discovered—
But see at length he comes.—Immortal gods,
With what dejection in his aspect!

CASSIUS.
Brutus!
My friend! what fatal accident o'erclouds
The lustre of thy virtue? Is the tyrant
Acquainted with it all? Is Rome betray'd?

BRUTUS.
Of the conspiracy against his life
Cæsar is ignorant: without suspicion,
He still confides in you.

DECIMUS.
What then afflicts thee?

BRUTUS.
An evil unforeseen, a dreadful secret,
Which known, will make you tremble.

CASSIUS.
Say, is death
Decreed to us, or to the proud usurper?
We all can die, but 'tis not our's to tremble.

BRUTUS.
No more; but hear; while I at least disclose
What will amaze thee.—I confess his life
To Rome, to you is forfeited; to kill him
Is meritorious; 'tis a debt we owe
To our posterity, and to the good
Of all mankind. I fix'd the time, the means,
The place, the very instant of his death.
I claim'd the privilege to strike the first
Most glorious blow; all is prepared.—Now learn
That Cæsar is my father.

CIMBER.
Thou his son!

CASSIUS.
The son of Cæsar!

DECIMUS.
Oh! my suffering country!

BRUTUS.
In private he was wedded to Servilia;
From which ill-omen'd marriage, I, most wretched,
Derive my birth.

CIMBER.
And is it possible?
Could the free blood which animates thy heart
Flow from a tyrant's veins?

CASSIUS.
It cannot be—
From such an origin thou could'st not spring—
Thy bosom glows with too much Roman virtue.

BRUTUS.
My shame (oh that it were not!) is most plain,
Glaring and manifest. You see my friend
The horror of my fate.—Yet by my word,
And by my solemn oath, that fate is yours;
To your arbitrement shall I submit.—
Which of you all hath strength of mind sufficient,
And stoic fortitude, surpassing far
Man's vulgar race, with justice to decide
How Brutus ought to act? Be you my guides;
All silent! All with downcast eyes! and Cassius,
Is he too mute? Will no one, on the brink
Of this abyss, lend me his succouring arm?
None urge me by encouragement to follow
Our predetermined course? Or from his store
Produce one argument to separate
My soul from guilt?—I see e'en Cassius trembles,
And with astonishment.—

CASSIUS.
When I reflect
Upon the counsel which I needs must give,
I cannot choose but tremble.

BRUTUS.
Speak!

CASSIUS.
Were Brutus
An ordinary citizen, my speech
Should thus proceed; go serve, and tyrannize
Beneath thy father! Level to its base
The state, which conscience, honour, every tie,
Bids thee support.—Rome will hereafter find
A favourable moment to destroy,
Instead of one, two execrable traitors.
But I am speaking to a different Brutus,
Of elevated soul, inferior scarce
To those of demigods and heroes old.
That champion, in the cause of liberty
Arm'd at all points, the mortal foe of tyrants;
Whose heart, strong-braced, firm, and unchangeable,
Hath purified the blood which Cæsar gave,
Nor left one drop of the corrupted mass
To taint th'unsullied stream. To thee I speak—
And heed me well.—Thou know'st with what a storm
Fierce Catiline e'er now, what ruin dire,
Threaten'd t'o'erwhelm his country?

BRUTUS.
Well, I know it.

CASSIUS.
If on the day, when with his felon hand
He stood prepared to give to liberty
Her desperate wound; if when the senate's voice
Past sentence on the traitor, he had then
Disclosed thy birth, and own'd thee for his son,
Necessitated to decide 'twixt us
And that detested monster—Say, on which
Would thy free choice have fallen?

BRUTUS.
Can Cassius ask me?
Or think my mind would, in an instant changed,
Have given the lie to every principle
Of generous virtue? Ballancing between
A single man, with infamy surcharged,
And the strong love which bound me to my country?

CASSIUS.
There Brutus to himself prescribed his duty.
There spake the senate, and with joy pronounced
The fatal sentence.—There his voice confirmed
Rome's great deliverance.—But within thy soul
Dost thou those sad uneasy yearnings feel,
Those doubts reluctant, and mysterious murmurs,
Which vulgar prejudice ascribes to nature?
Could Cæsar by a word annihilate
Thy patriot love? thy duty? faith? This secret,
Or false, or true, having discovered to thee,
And own'd thee for his son, will it avail
T'abstract a tittle from his crimes? Is not
Thy nature still essentially the same?
Art thou less Brutus? Art thou less a Roman?
Art thou less bound to us? thy heart, hand, life,
Less justly ours? But say, thou art his son!
Is not insulted Rome yet dearer to thee?
And more thy mother? Are not each of us
Leagu'd in one glorious cause, yet more thy brethren?—
Within these ever-hallow'd precincts born,
Foster'd by Scipio; by the guardian care
Of Pompey raised to man; th'adopted son
Of godlike Cato, and the friend of Cassius—
What more can'st thou desire? These sacred titles,
Whence spring thy truest ornament and fame,
Another would disgrace. Say, that the tyrant,
Urged on by passion, to his vile embrace
Seduced Servilia and thus gave thee birth—
Is this of consequence? Oh! let the follies
And inconsiderate union of thy mother
Rest undisturbed in their obscurity.—
Who formed thy soul to virtue? Who begot
The love of freedom in thy glowing breast?
And all thy nobleness of manners? Cato.
He only is thy father, who thy worth
Intrinsic moulded, and to light call'd forth
Th'ethereal part of thee.—Break then at once
The ties by him whose very name I loathe
This day imposed. Now rouse up all thy firmness,
With the bold tenor of our mutual oaths
Greatly to correspond: nor seek for parents,
But mind th'avengers of an harrast world.

BRUTUS.
And what, my gallant friends, is your opinion?

CIMBER.
By Cassius judge of us, by us of Cassius.
Could other sentiments inspire our souls,
Of all the sons of Rome, superior guilt
Would be our portion. But appeal not thou
To others; Brutus should consult himself,
And his own heart alone.

BRUTUS.
Oh! friends!—my bosom
Shall now be all unfolded to your view.
It is a book of horror to be read,
And crouded thick with blackest characters.
I will not hide from you a single thought.
My inmost soul is shock'd, and tears have flow'd,
The tears of anguish from a stoic's eye,
After our mutual oath, which now appears
Of dreadful import as it tended not
To serve the state alone, but slay my father.
Mourning our fatal consanguinity,
Ashamed to be the subject of his kindness,
Th'admirer of his virtues, the severe
Judge of his crimes, viewing the man from whom
My being I derive, o'erwhelm'd with guilt,
Yet great in arms, and of a mind sublime.
By him attracted, by the powerful love
I bear my country, ever held asunder,
Pity, and horror, struggling in my bosom,
And tearing every nerve; I wish that death
For him prepared, was now to fall on me.
Nay more, I must confess that I esteem him;
Midst all his crimes, his nobleness of heart.
Hath won me to him. If the kingly power
Could ever be submitted to in Rome,
He is the only tyrant we might spare.
Be not alarm'd; that name which I detest,
That name prevails, and every other tye
Is vanquish'd, and destroy'd. The senate, Rome,
And you brave sons of liberty, possess
My honour, duty, and fidelity
Inviolate, entire. I hear the voice
Of millions, and the world itself exclaim
Against a king. The general good requires
This sacrifice. With horror I embrace
The sternest form of virtue; you behold me
Shudder before you, but my faith is yours
Irrevocably fixt.—I go to meet
Cæsar once more. Oh! could the lot be mine
To soften, change his thoughts, preserve the state,
Preserve my father! May the immortal gods
Speak by my lips their own pure sentiments!
And strong, persuasive eloquence inspire,
To pierce, t'affect his heart! But if ambition
Blinds him, and renders all my efforts vain,
Then lift your arms o'er his devoted head!
Strike! I shall turn my eyes a different way.
I will not prove a traitor to my country
To save a father.—Be my rigid firmness
Prais'd or condemn'd; let this unheard of act,
Dazzling the world by it's excess of greatness,
Be look'd on as an object of it's horror,
Or admiration; with a soul endu'd,
Not anxious in it's memory to survive,
Reproach or glory are indifferent to me.
But ever independent, and a Roman,
My duty only claims my care,—all else
Is less than nothing.—Hence then,—and resolve
Breaking the yoke of slavery, to be free.

CASSIUS.
Thy sacred word is given, on that depends
The safety of the state, to thee our hopes
Are all intrusted, and we listen to thee
With that attention Cato would demand,
Or Rome herself, or our protecting gods.