The Works of John Sheffield Earl of Mulgrave, Marquis of Normanby, and Duke of Buckingham. In two volumes ... The third edition, Corrected |
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 | The Works of John Sheffield |  |
SCENE V.
Enter Antony, and taking no Notice of them, falls on his Knees to Cæsar's Body.Antony.
I was unable to defend thy Life,
And therefore now can scarce endure my own,
Thou great good Man! Is all thy Race of Glory
Brought to this wretched End? Didst thou scorn Death
In all those bloody Fields, to find it here?
Oh, 'tis I feel it; thou art past the Pain;
But in my Heart 'tis acted o'er and o'er.
For ev'ry Thought of thee, and of thy Love,
Gives me fresh Sorrow: Take my Tribute here
Of Sighs and Tears that always shall attend thee.
And therefore now can scarce endure my own,
Thou great good Man! Is all thy Race of Glory
Brought to this wretched End? Didst thou scorn Death
In all those bloody Fields, to find it here?
Oh, 'tis I feel it; thou art past the Pain;
But in my Heart 'tis acted o'er and o'er.
For ev'ry Thought of thee, and of thy Love,
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Of Sighs and Tears that always shall attend thee.
I ask your Pardon, noble Lords; my Thoughts
Were too much there, to look on aught besides.
Yet think not I repent of what I said;
For I will speak the Praises of my Friend,
Nor fear ev'n Heav'n, should it reply in Thunder.
He was my Friend, and I will still be his,
Tho' the Gods rage, and Mankind meanly joins;
Who shew Regard to Heav'n in nothing else
But slighting Merit, when the Gods forsake it.
Yet I, of all suspected, and alone,
Will boldly thus embrace this precious Body.
Nay, gaze not on me with such threat'ning Looks;
Think not, that if I valu'd now my Life,
I am so foolish to expose it thus.
What Hour so fit for me, what Death so glorious,
As here to fall with Cæsar, and by you,
The Master Spirits, sure, of all the World?
Kill me then quickly; kill me with those Daggers
That reek in Blood of him I lov'd so well:
For, could I languish out a thousand Years,
I ne'er should find myself so fit to die:
'Tis now a Pleasure, what may be a Pain.
Were too much there, to look on aught besides.
Yet think not I repent of what I said;
For I will speak the Praises of my Friend,
Nor fear ev'n Heav'n, should it reply in Thunder.
He was my Friend, and I will still be his,
Tho' the Gods rage, and Mankind meanly joins;
Who shew Regard to Heav'n in nothing else
But slighting Merit, when the Gods forsake it.
Yet I, of all suspected, and alone,
Will boldly thus embrace this precious Body.
Nay, gaze not on me with such threat'ning Looks;
Think not, that if I valu'd now my Life,
I am so foolish to expose it thus.
What Hour so fit for me, what Death so glorious,
As here to fall with Cæsar, and by you,
The Master Spirits, sure, of all the World?
Kill me then quickly; kill me with those Daggers
That reek in Blood of him I lov'd so well:
For, could I languish out a thousand Years,
I ne'er should find myself so fit to die:
'Tis now a Pleasure, what may be a Pain.
Brutus.
Oh! Antony, beg not your Death of us.
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How much my soften'd Heart approv'd your Praise.
Rough tho' we seem, and tho' our Hands are bloody,
Yet, Antony, you only see our Hands,
Which, free, as those of Justice, from all Rage,
Have done a Deed, spite of our softer Souls.
Your Friendship to dead Cæsar we esteem,
And value yours the more: then join with us
To settle Rome firm in its ancient Freedom;
And we will join with you to make you great;
As great as can consist with Liberty.
Cassius.
Your Voice shall sound as high as any Man's
In the Election of new Magistrates.
Brutus.
Only be patient till you hear the Cause
Of all this seeming Cruelty. You know
Cæsar us'd me as kindly as yourself.
Were I ambitious, or sought private Ends,
This, sure, was not the Way. Witness, you Gods!
None e'er who kill'd himself, lov'd him he slew,
Better than I lov'd Cæsar!
Antony.
Oh my Heart!
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Give me your Hands, I must accept your Love,
Most noble Brutus, and yours, Caius Cassius.
Alas! my Credit stands on slipp'ry Ground;
And there's a Precipice on either Side.
To answer this your Gentleness with Rage,
(When you thus spare me ev'n against my Will)
That would appear but a too rough Return:
Yet may not this too look like Fear, or Flatt'ry?
That I lov'd Cæsar, I must ever own;
That he lov'd me, his Favours shew'd too well:
How shall I do my Part to him, and you?
Unless you will vouchsafe to give me Reasons
Why Cæsar died; and let me bury him
(As it becomes his Friend) with decent Honour:
Then I'll but steep his Ashes in my Tears,
And in his cold Urn smother all my Sorrow.
Brutus.
'Tis just, we grant it; take his Body hence;
And I will join myself to do him Honour.
Cassius.
Hold, Brutus; first consider well of that:
The easy Rabble may be mov'd against us.
Who knows how Rhet'ric may prevail on Fools?
Brutus.
We need not, Cassius, be so much concern'd;
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'Twas Cæsar's Soul we fear'd, and that once gone,
We cannot use his harmless Corpse too well.
Cassius.
But yet I fear the worst.
Brutus.
Besides, I'll go,
And speak before him in the Market-place.
But, Antony, your Praise must be so nice,
As not to blame our Action: you may shew
Both Love to Cæsar, and Esteem of us.
Cassius.
His Speech shall be your Pattern; so we leave you
To pay that Pity which you owe your Friend.
[Exeunt all but Antony.
| The Works of John Sheffield | |