University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

To TORBILIUS enter TRINOVANTIUS and two Roman Officers.
TORBILIUS.
Oh! farewell,
Rome's Fame!—Her Evil Genius has prevail'd:
And Cæsar'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 Cæsar.! A Cæsar!

TRINOVANTIUS.
Bless your concurring Joy! ye grateful People!
Cæsar is yours—and you are justly Cæsar's!
Crown him with Rapture.—For were Cæsar 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 Cæsar's Crown;
His Love of the Unhappy:—dread his Pity.
He will not see the groaning Debtor sold,
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 Cæsar reigns.
A cry from within—Liberty! Liberty: Liberty!
Hark! in that Cry, arose no voice of Joy!
By Heaven; they Murder Cæsar! guard this Door,
Good Romans! Fulvius! Ætius! 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.—Cæsar, 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 Cæsar 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! My Brutus! Nay then, to conquer,
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.)