University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Scene I.

A Hall in Cæsar's House.
CASSIUS. TORBILIUS.
(Crossing.)
CASSIUS.
Stay! turn!—The imperfect Dawn deceives my Sight,
Or, 'tis Torbilius.

TORBILIUS.
Cassius:

CASSIUS.
He!—How comes it,
I meet thee, in the House of hated Cæsar!

TORBILIUS.
Portia, to-night, was frighted, in a Dream;
And, hast'ning hither, to alarm Calphurnia,
Call'd for my Hand, to guide her.

CASSIUS.
In the Forum.
Expect strong Clash, this Morning.

TORBILIUS.
Will Cæsar, then,
Be King.

CASSIUS.
He will—yet, Dreams of a to-morrow.

TORBILIUS.
So dies, our Flot abortive.

CASSIUS.
Rather, die Cæsar!
Fix Brutus ours—and yon pale—rising Sun
Shall drink the Tyrant's Blood, before its setting.

TORBILIUS.
Speak softly.—'Tis an unsafe Scene, for Treason.

CASSIUS.
Not now.—The House is Desart.—Every Eye,
Busied remote, strays upward, from the Grove;
Hard, thro' dim Dawn, the Patient Augurs pore,
Watchful to teach mysterious Birds, to lie,
And mock insulted Heaven, to flatter Cæsar.

TORBILIUS.
Wait you the Auguries?

CASSIUS.
Away—light Questioner!
Brutus, and I, with more tame Slaves, call'd Senators,
Last Night, beseeching Audience, kingly Cæsar
Told us, fair Meanings shun'd the Shade of Night,
And bad us, when Day rose, attend his Pleasure:
I came a willing Hour too soon—for, oh!
Such a Discovery!—Such Intelligence!

TORBILIUS.
Whence flows it?

CASSIUS.
Whence do all Court Secrets flow?
Kings trust their Minions—and King-Blasters bribe 'em:
Cæsar, to-night, sat writing, till alarmed,
He heard Calphurnia shriek, and rose to aid her.
Left, in his Closet, lay a half transcrib'd,
And strangely—purpos'd Will:—wherein who (think'st thou)
But Brutus!—Our last Hope—Rome's freeborn Brutus!
Is nam'd the Tyrant's Son! and Heir of Empire!

TORBILIUS.
In Form of Will adopted?

CASSIUS.
Direly; adopted!
Own'd his true natural-born decendant Son,
By Cato's solemn Sister!—Curse her hypocrisy!
'Twas Ruin—to the Hopes of Rome, and Liberty.

TORBILIUS.
What Bribe had Power, to force a Friend from Cæsar.

CASSIUS.
Thy Friend, and mine—imperial Gold!—more Eloquent,
Than ten smooth Cæsars! bought a true King-Server
From his Lord's Bosom.—Opportunely near,
He caught the inviting Moment:—left his Covert,—
Read—started—sent to press my early coming,
And, private here, in the still dusk, disclosed it.

TORBILIUS.
Gods! What perfidious Friendships cheat Mankind!

CASSIUS.
Laugh, and be wise.—So, to betray, gives Greatness.
—Forget not thou, mean-while, to speed thy Charge:
Prepare cold Brutus for the Day's Impression:
Swell him, with all his prais'd Forefather's Pride;
Fume his enhaling Soul with Flatte'ry's Incence,
And share divided Rome's best Hopes, with Cassius

TORBILIUS.
Why must Rome's Hopes depend on One Man's Aid?

CASSIUS.
All Men are Ours in Brutus.—Thou, and I,
And every Roman, leagu'd, to cut off Cæsar,
Hate Cæsar.—Every burning Breast, but His,
Has sep'arate, infelt, private Cause, for Malice:
Who will believe, we strike for Rome.—So known,
So mark'd, malignant to the Name of Cæsar?
Brutus is Cæsar's Idol!—and loves Cæsar!
His Aid will consecrate Revenge to Virtue.
He can, when Cæsar bleeds, turn Tears to Triumph,
And blot the whitest Star, that lights his Character.

TORBILIUS.
But this is Baseness, Cassius!—grant it needful,
The Man shou'd die—why must we kill his Virtues?
Why, to oppose his reigning, must we rob
His natural Rights?—why shade the Soul, he shines by?
No—let us own the Beauties of his Heart:
Weeping, confess his Brave'ry, Tempe'rence, Pity,
Long patient Courtings of rejected Peace—
Yet—dreadful Darings, in Contempt of Danger?
Else, we shall spot Laws Face, with Marks of Envy,
Treating this vastness of a Mind, like Heaven's,
As if keen-ey'd for Guilt, but blind to Goodness.

CASSIUS.
Perish his Goodness!—grind my Ear no more
With his curst Qualities:—I hate his Power:
I hate myself—hate Rome—hate Life, Joy, Victory,
Hate every Hope, but one.—to make Him feel,
That slighted Cassius drew down Fate on Cæsar.
This let me live to teach him—Then,—tho' Rome,
Sunk, round me, till her tumbling Capital
Smoak'd, for my funeral Pile.—'Twere Death, with Glory.

TORBILIUS.
Cassius! my Soul, less fiery, cannot strain
Resentment into Frenzy:—In my Sense,
Reason, not Rage, shou'd measure Plotter's Passions.
Be temperate, or

CASSIUS.
(Hastily.)
By Heaven! he comes! yon Gallery
Sounds, with his Step.—The holy Farce is ended:
Poet,—farewell.—
[Exit Cassius.

TORBILIUS.
(alone.)
Farewell, detested Envy!
Motives like thine, turn Justice into Murder.
Something shall, strait, be done.—Cæsar! be safe:
He, who forgave my Guilt, demands my Virtue.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

CÆSAR, Preceded by Lictors, and Officers, and follow'd at some Distance, by an Augur.
AUGUR.
Cæsar! imperial Cæsar! hear the Gods.

CÆSAR.
Go:—Thou art known.—The Gods, thou serv'st, are Senators:
Cassius, thy Phæbus—and his Gold, thy Jove.

AUGUR.
Rest, from this fatal March, restrain'd by Heaven,
And, by such unpropitious Auguries, warn'd.

CÆSAR.
Shame on your pious Frauds! they tire Indulgence.

AUGUR.
Check not the Voice of Truth: 'twas form'd, for Plainness.

CÆSAR.
Own it with conscious Shame.—If Truth loves Plainness,
Why are the God's clear Wills perplex'd, by Art?

AUGUR.
Speaks Rome's high Pontiff This?

CÆSAR.
He does, bold Augur!
To rescue Zeal, from Pride's unhallow'd Claim;
That robs, to reve'rence Heaven.

AUGUR.
Heaven calls for Faith.

CÆSAR.
How dare you, then, make Infidels, by Falsehood?
Wou'd you, o're Reason, stretch the Chain of Faith,
Gild it, with Heaven's broad Light: Touch the taught Heart.
Nobly, speak out:—and tell th' attracted World,
Nothing is from the Gods, that shakes Man's Honesty.

AUGUR.
Oh! stay thy fatal March—change thy rash Views;
Bid thy rais'd Eagles fall the expanded Wing:
Air's plumy People, screaming from the Left,
Stoop in their Flight, to warn Thee:—Omens on Omens,
Bode unauspecious Doom—and teem, with Death.

CÆSAR.
No more. (Augur) the Gods (Cæsar) away—I know 'em, best,
Who know 'em Friends to Virtue.—

AUGUR.
Virtue is Liberty.
The Foes of Freedom can attract no Gods,
To prop their falling Standards;—Heaven beglooms
Thy Star, with some dire Fate:—but what, is Darkness.

CÆSAR.
Go: search it, in the Air,—and, if thou find'st it,
Arm'd, in its ugliest Menace, bring it hither.—
When Screams of Birds can shake a Soldier's Heart,
Thou shalt lead Priests to fight, for feeble Rome,
And lend their Arts, to Cæsar.

AUGUR.
Tremble.—

CÆSAR.
Away.

[Exit Augur.

SCENE III.

CÆSAR alone.
CÆSAR.
I wou'd, be happy.—Why, then, am I Great?
Men, who desert their Peace, to serve their Glory,
Toil, for the Malice of oblig'd Mankind:
Yet—weigh, warm Heart, impartially sincere,
Whence Opposition Springs—and Love its Boldness.
Why claim I Power Supreme?—was Empire—mine?
Freedom is every Roman's native Right;
And every Roman Voice demands it back,
Where Power's, unjustly, held—the Opposer's just:
But,—where even Freedom is, by Choice, corrupt,
How fruitless—to redeem the willing Slave.
Can I recall the Dead?—Rome gives up Rome;
The cheapen'd Varlets rate their venal Votes,
And sell their Soul's Redeemer.—Sleep, Ambition?
How easier 'tis to save, than mend, a People!
Fall, servile Rome!—No.—Rome is Cæsar's Country.
And, who dares injure, where he's born—to save?
Foes! wrong me on—till pardon'd into Friends:
Busy, for Greatness, I'll neglect Revenge;
Take Envy in Reward, and make it Fame.
What new, kind Fear, alarms thy Lady's Love?

[Enter Flavia frighted.
FLAVIA.
Danger, most instant, she wou'd, now, impart,
E're Cassius, and his proud Confederates come—
Those Enemies of all her Hopes—and Cæsar!

CÆSAR.
Go: tell her, Cæsar dreads no Enemies,
But those, Her felt Afflictions teach to wound him.

[Exit Flavia.
CÆSAR.
(Kneeling.)
Hear me, Thou! self-producing, dark, first Cause!
All-ruling! all-evading! aweful Power,
Whom, under various Names, blind worship seeks!
If, till compell'd, I drew the public Sword,
Sheath'd, in my Bosom, let the Guilty fall!
(rises)
But, if brib'd Hopes, or partial Sense of Liberty,
Sovereign'd, a Senate, o'er a Nation, Slaves:
Then, Tyranny (assum'd, to bar a Tyrant)
Gave Rome five Hundred Kings—lest one shou'd reign.
If I must war—be edg'd my Sword, for Glory:
Better to hold, than bear tyrannic Sway:
Where but the Great are free—Reason's, a Slave,

SCENE IV.

CALPHURNIA, to CÆSAR, (ent'ring hastily.)
CALPHURNIA.
Cæsar! my Life!—my Love!

CÆSAR.
my Soul's soft Care!
Thou tremblest!—Some new Vision has alarm'd Thee.

CALPHURNIA.
Heaven is alarm'd—for Virtue sleeps, in Danger.

CÆSAR.
Rest, from thy Dreams, by Day—thou dear Intruder!
Fears, and Affections, are for happier Hours:
War, and our Country's Cares, demand us, now.

CALPHURNIA.
Can you be deaf to Warnings, from the Gods?
Portia came, trembling, from a dreadful Dream,
That proves mine ominous.

CÆSAR.
What has she dreamt?

CALPHURNIA.
Frighted, she saw her Father's ent'ring Shadow
Glide thro' her Chamber, in a dusky Ray:
Stopping, it fix'd a pale, and empty Eye,
Spoke, in a thin, faint, death-denoting Voice,
And pierc'd her to the Soul.—Portia, Thou'rt mine,
Th' unbodied Phantom cry'd.—Brutus no more
Thy Lord—nor Cæsar Rome's.—It said, and pass'd,
And melted into Air, and flow'd away.

CÆSAR.
The night-born Tremblings of a timid Love,
Unstedfasted by Reason!

CALPHURNIA.
Be it no more!—
Yet, see not these dire Men:—They find, and dread
Their Power's Destruction, in the Crown of Cæsar.
Hence, have their plotting Fears, this Day, combin'd,
To blast thy Purpose—or, cut short thy Life.

(Soft knocking at the Door.)
CÆSAR.
Go, with thy medling Tenderness.—They come;
Anon, thou shalt be heard:

CALPHURNIA.
—One Word indulge me:
E're to the People's public Voice propos'd,
Plebian Votes permit this Crown to Cæsar,
Hear a sad Secret, my touch'd Heart wou'd tell Thee.

CÆSAR.
Give thyself Peace.—I will.

CALPHURNIA.
May all Rome's Gods,
In pity of her Fate, defend, and bless thee.

[Exit Calphurnia, meeting Antony who bows to her, in passing.]

SCENE V.

CÆSAR, MARC ANTONY.
ANTONY.
Health, and a length of happy Days to Cæsar!
Freedom, and Faction join, to crown him King.

CÆSAR.
Who wou'd be King of Faction, Antony?
Monarchs, by Freedom crown'd, reign Kings, indeed!

ANTONY.
Why checks that boding Sigh, the public Joy?
What is there, in the Course of worldly Dread,
That thy great Heart can Sigh for?

CÆSAR.
—For a Friend.

ANTONY.
No Friend to Cæsar needs a Sigh, in Rome.

CÆSAR.
Oh, Antony!—who wou'd not sigh, in Rome,
That thinks of her lost Virtues.

ANTONY.
—If there lives
One, who not hates Oppression, let him love
Rome, and her Virtues.—Both grown false, and hateful.

CÆSAR.
Hate not the Guilty, but the guilt, my Antony:
Ne're shall thy Soul expand, in public Love,
Till it can bear, and pardon, private Wrongs.

ANTONY.
When Slander stings us, what shou'd Sufferers do?

CÆSAR.
Invulnerably Faultless, shame Detraction.—
Why shou'd th'ungrounded Slanders of th' Unjust,
Provoke us, to deserve 'em?—Late, when here
We met, I told thee, Cæsar, had a Son.

ANTONY.
If I forsake thy Race—(Cæsar) swear nothing, Antony
Exacting Oaths, I must suspect Deceit:
And he, who trusts the doubted, cheats Himself.

ANTONY.
But who?—what Star of Rome is Cæsar's—Son!

CÆSAR.
Suppose it Brutus.—

ANTONY.
(Starting.)
—Every God renounce him!

CÆSAR.
What God renounces Excellence, in Man?

ANTONY.
Brutus is hard, and stern.—and, what is Man,
Who cannot weep for Man—and feel, for Nature?

CÆSAR.
Servilia was, in secret, vow'd my Wife,
When Cato, whose austere, and captious Virtue,
Repell'd even Virtue—if it cross'd his own
Jealous of our Assistance,—yet, undreaming,
How far one soft, stol'n, amo'rous Hour had borne us,
Snatch'd the succeeding Day, and, in my Absence,
Forc'd her, distracted, to a Brutus's Arms.

ANTONY.
What mean the wanton Powers, who license Chance,
To shame thee, with a Son, unlike, as Brutus!
Sedition, will not hear, the call of Blood:
Intractably morose, it shuts out Pity,
And starves Humanity, to cherish Pride.

CÆSAR.
Time, that transforms us all, shall win back Brutus.

ANTONY.
Time's Comqueror might reclaim him.

CÆSAR.
Who's that?

ANTONY.
—Death.

CÆSAR.
How!—To whom speak'st thou this?

ANTONY.
—To Man.

CÆSAR.
Be one.
And, when thou speak'st again—speak, to the Father.

ANTONY.
If I offended—Cæsar can be partial.

CÆSAR.
No.—For, I see thee honest, through thy Error.

ANTONY.
I thought, Revenge of Wrongs was right of Nature.

CÆSAR.
Men think but to the Limits of their Minds.
For me—despising Wrongs, I shun Severity.

ANTONY.
Yet, sure! Allenvied Greatness, wou'd be safe.

CÆSAR.
Greatness is safest, when it dares forgive.

ANTONY.
Rome hates your Power.

CÆSAR.
Then, she shall love my Mercy.

ANTONY.
I can but wish thee bless'd:—And, still, serve on.

CÆSAR.
Come, thou shalt aid me.—Thou hast lent thy Arm
To conquer Nations for me:—Conquer Brutus:
Teach him, that noblest Courage shuns to hate:
Charm him, to taste the Power of gentle Sway;
New humanize his Heart, to thy soft Model,
And graft Politeness on his Savage Virtue.

ANTONY.
When Cæsar bids—his Antony obeys:
Had Brutus been my Son—I, too, had hop'd.

Enter CURIO.
CURIO.
Cæsar!—th' expected Lords

CÆSAR.
Admit 'em, Curio.

[Exit Curio

SCENE VI.

Cæsar, seated: Antony, Brutus, Cassius, Cimber, Decimus, Casca, Cinna, Marcellus, advancing to their Seats.
CÆSAR.
Health to the Jealous for their Country's Freedom;
Cæsar's Distrusters, welcome!—Cimber! Decimus!
Marcellus! Casca! Cassius! Brutus!—All!
This Day, the Senate sits: quick, therefore, teach me
The previous Purpose of your offer'd Zeal.

BRUTUS.
Rome dreads to lose her Cæsar, in a King.

CÆSAR.
What wou'd you do with this fam'd Sybil's Prophesy?
How check the public Terror?—Must I march
With trembling Legions, unsustain'd at Heart,
And desperate, from Defect of, but a Name?
By Oracles fore-doom'd for Parthia's Fall?
Cassius, you smile.—The Great should judge the Great:
For, never mean Man's Thoughts out-stretch'd his Feeling:
Speak, Brutus—were your Choice your General's Leader,
What wou'd you wish him called?

BRUTUS.
Rome call'd him—Consul.

CÆSAR.
Rome did so—but, when superstitious Dread
Of hostile Arms has damp'd a Nation's Fire,
Changes, which tend to raise dejected Hope,
Are Wisdom.

BRUTUS.
Wisdom has its Fears.—

CÆSAR.
—Speak boldly:
Attentive, even from Foes, to borrow Benefit,
I court Suspicion's Gall, to aid my Judgment,
With all th' instructive Doubts of Men, who hate me.

BRUTUS.
No Foe has Cæsar—but his Crown has many.

ANTONY.
King, was a Title, aweful, anicent, sacred.

CIMBER.
(Rising.)
Plain Truth is a blunt Talker—never, rash Consul.
Never did Sylla, Marius, Pompey,—Never,
In all the Boldness of usurp'd Command,
Dare the shun'd Name—howe'er they grasp'd the Power:
Nor challenge kingly Style, in freeborn Rome.
But Liberty, perhaps, becomes too bold.

CÆSAR.
True Liberty is bold, without Presumption:
And, without Flattery, gentle.—Cassius, be heard.

CASSIUS.
(Raising.)
Cæsar has sworn, to guard our ancient Rights;
Sworn, to uphold one sole Supreme—the Law:
Cæsar unperjur'd, Rome can fear no King.

CÆSAR.
Malice, disguis'd in Counsel,—Keep it, Cassius:
Permitted Slander is a willing Tax,
That patient Power pays, to the Rights of Liberty.

DECIMUS.
(rising.)
Be Cæsar King—but, still, let Rome be free!

CÆSAR.
A plain Man's honest Prayer.—Brutus why dumb?

BRUTUS.
(rising mournfully.)
I must be dumb, if neutral:—but, compell'd
To speak, disdain to speak, unlike a Roman:
What helps it to Rome's Friends, if Rome wears Fetters,
That Foes, in Asia, join, to drag her Chain?
Leave Parthea safely fierce:—Dangers remote
Touch but our Fears—Domestick Ones are felt.

CÆSAR.
Brutus! Thou err'st, undreaming it.—Thou, Cassius,
Art, knowingly, an unmisled Misleader:
Thy Passions fram'd the Pile:—good Decimus,
Marcellus, Cimber, and such live Materials,
Buttress thy factious Building:—'Tis in vain,
To reason with the Partial: Men, who call
Their own corrected Pride, the public Danger;
Else, I wou'd say, to Minds, that could reflect,
Be Freemen among Freemen.—hard Controul
Breaks a wrong'd People's Spirits, into Slaves,
Or, spur's 'em into Rebell's.—'Tis dishonest:
What Right have we to Freedom, not alike
The Property, ev'n of the poorest Roman?

BRUTUS.
When fed the lab'ring Ox, abreast the Lion?

CÆSAR.
How venal is all Rome!—Her every Senator
Sold, to his Passion's Biddings.—Brutus is sold
To Pride,—to avarice, some:—These Envy draw;
Those Fear;—in Others, hopes of promis'd Power
Warp the Dependent Will, to crooked Reasonings;
Loose, as the Bribes, that bought 'em.

CASSIUS.
—Voices, Cæsar!
Are, sometimes, sold—where Hands retain their Liberty.

CÆSAR.
True—Angry Cassius!—But, the Head, misguiding,
Hands will mistake the Mark, and wound Themselves.
How soon have you forgot Pharsalia's Field?

CASSIUS.
Fortune decided, there:—At Rome, 'tis Law,

CÆSAR.
Fortune decided strangely Caius Cassius!
If I, by having conquer'd, must obey,
And you, from being beaten, claim Command!

ANTONY.
(rising with Emotion.)
After such fierce, unveil'd, presumtuous Menace,
Rome must forget, forever, to obey,
Or Cæsar, once, to pardon.

CÆSAR.
(to Cassius.)
—Cassius, it grieves me,
That Thou compell'st a Sentence, too severe,
(rises)
Since Mercy serves but to excite Offence,
And Bounty spurs Ingratitude—be—safe:—
Sunk, to the Shelter of a wrong'd Man's Pity,
Too feeble to provoke.—Escape Revenge.

(comes forward)
BRUTUS
(holding him.)
Call it no Crime, to apprehend Distress!
If Liberty offends, and Truth grows Treason,
Thank Heaven, the most dejected Slave, on Earth,
Holds Priviledge to die.—But Cæsar frowns!
Note it, attentive Gods! and wake, for Freedom!
Imperial Cæsar frowns!—Rome's Master frowns—
That Opposition speaks uncourtly Truth.

(turning to go.)
CÆSAR.
No more.—The Rest, when in full Senate, met:—
Till then, farewell.—
[Exeunt Senators.
—Stay Consul,—Brutus—stay.

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.

SCENE VIII.

CÆSAR. ANTONY.
ANTONY.
(after a Pause.)
Now, Cæsar! what deserve such Romans?

CÆSAR.
(after a short Pause.)
—Freedom.

ANTONY.
They are too free, who treat their Friends, with Insult,

CÆSAR.
If Man were plac'd above the Reach of Insult.
To Pardon, were no Virtue:—Think, warm Antony,
What Mercy is—'Tis daring to be wrong'd,
Yet, unprovok'd by Pride, persist in Pity.

ANTONY.
Power, that endures Contempt, invites Rebellion,

CÆSAR.
Dream not, that Moderation weakens Power:
The heart-felt Sovereign smiles, at Faction's Rage;
And those malignant Men, who hate unjustly,
We punish most, when we are most belov'd.

ANTONY.
What Prince, who was not fear'd, was, ever, safe?

CÆSAR.
Only, in War, he should be fear'd.—In Peace, be honour'd Antony.

ANTONY.
Even Self-defence requires, at least, that bloody Cassius fall.

CÆSAR.
Why shou'd I strike the Weak, who cannot wound me?

ANTONY.
Punish the guilty Will, that dar'd imagine.

CÆSAR.
So Minions teach tame Kings, to merit Hate.

ANTONY.
Where Kings suspect,—preventing, they secure.

CÆSAR.
Scorn to suspect, where thou woud'st scorn to fear.
Nor waste, on ev'ry slight and weak Offence,
The Dignity of Vengeance.—I will, anon,
Trust Brutus with his Birth: Nature must move him.
If not—I leave him to the Gods, and Time.

ANTONY.
Shall he oppose, yet, wear his Father's Crown?

CÆSAR.
Shou'd Life allot me Hope, to stretch Rome's Soul
To Latitude for Liberty—'twere more
Than Empire, to restore her.—If the Task,
Hard, and extensive, calls for lengthening Years,
While, in untimely Hour, I, distant, die,
Brutus, by this last Light, will judge my Purpose.

(gives a Paper.)
ANTONY.
Long may the Gods, preserving Cæsar's Life,
Protect his Purposes, from Care, not Cæsar's.

CÆSAR.
Life has too short a Reach, for long Designs:
And, oft, the Fruit not ripe, the Tree declines:
No Help unneedful, Man shou'd all pursue,
Lest Time slide from him,—and his Hopes die, too.