University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

CASSIUS, CIMBER, DECIMUS, CINNNA, CASCA, BRUTUS.
BRUTUS.
Rome's lost.

CIMBER.
Then, Cæsar timely warn'd, has shun'd his Danger.

BRUTUS.
No.—The last Thing, Cæsar will shun, is Danger.
—Roman's! Attend; and weep your Country's Fate:
I swore the Death of Cæsar:—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 Cæsar'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 Herself, and me—to Cæsar'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
Shou'd aid th' Ambition of the Tyrant Father.
Rome had but mark'd two Cæsar'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 Cæsar.

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 Cæsar'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.
Cæsar yet lives.—

BRUTUS.
—Cæsar—and Catiline!
Gods!—what Disparities thou yok'st together!
—That Cæsar's Policy not feigns me His,
Learn—I have Proof, too plain.—Servilia spoke
Spoke, from the Shades of Death, and own'd me Cæsar's.

CASSIUS.
Did her Ghost tell this Dream?

BRUTUS.
The Dream is Thine,
Light Cassius!—She confess'd it, in her Letter:

CASSIUS.
Cæsar has Arts, beyond thy honest reaching,—
But, let it pass—Cæsar is Cæsar, still;—
Be Brutus 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 Cæsar?

BRUTUS.
Away—my shrinking Soul abhors thy Purpose!
If I am Cæsar's Son, Cæsar, 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 an Oath.

BRUTUS.
Perish an Oath—against the Birth, I breathe by!

CASSIUS.
Thou but contribut'st Faith, to help Deceit!
Thou art not—can'st not be—the Son of Cæsar:
I know, thou art not.

BRUTUS.
Cassius!—If I am!
—What Clash of Contradictions rends my Soul!
Horror, and Piety, divide my Virtue,
Save Cæsar, all ye Gods!—But save Rome from him,

CASSIUS.
Cæsar 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 Cæsar.—Hence, 'tis Mercy,
When One Man dies, to save the Blood of Nations.

BRUTUS.
Dies, Cassius!—by a Son!—Oh! righteous Heaven!
Avert the impending Horror!—Foe to Nature,
Hint it no more—Or, Brutus, turns the Sword,
Thou point'st at Cæsar'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;
Judge, to what daring Length, this rash, blind, Man
Provokes his Friend's Impatience:—Let that punish thee.
(Gives him Cæsar's Table-Book.)
Read there, what envied Rights thy Birth derives
From Cæsar's Blood—who, thus, cou'd sentence Thine.

BRUTUS.
(Reading.)
“Wrong'd Cæsar claims Redress from Curio's Sword,
“Be this his Warrant for dispatching—Brutus.
—If this was Cæsar'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 Cæsar'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 Cæsar's Hand.

CASSIUS.
—Tis Cæsar'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 Cæsar's Son.
Wert Heir to Cæsar'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:
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 Cæsar!
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 Cæsar.

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 Cæsar.

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, Cæsar'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.
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 Cæsar's Will!
—He comes—Oh, Shade of Cato! guard my Virtue