University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Enter Brutus.
Brutus.
O my poor country!—
I've wak'd and wept, and would have fought for thee,
And empted every vein, when threatn'd ruin.
Lowr'd o'er thy head; but now too late. I fear
The manacles prepar'd by Brundo's hand,
Cruel Rapatio, with more fatal art,
Has fix'd, has rivetted beyond redress—
My indignation's rouz'd, my soul disdains,
Nor will I longer stay where poisonous breath,
Of Sycophants applause, pollutes the air.
The shameless tyrant snuffs the base perfume;
With unrelenting heart and brazen front
He rears his guilty head amidst the fear
Of Servia's virtuous sons, whose latest breath
Shall execrate a wretch, who dare enslave,
A generous, free and independent people.
—If, ye pow'rs divine,
Ye mark the movements of this nether world,
And bring them to account—crush, crush these vipers,
Who singl'd out by a community,
To guard their rights—shall for a grasp of oar,
Or paltry office sell them to the foe.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

A Prison.
E---r,
solus.
It's done; not all their boasted pow'r can save me!
Not Hazlerod himself with all his art,
Who long had buoy'd up my sinking spirits,
Can soothe the sullen passions of my soul,
Or pour one ray of comfort on my mind.
Condemn'd!—to die! perdition seize them all.
Where are now all the gilded airy prospects
That swam before me—Honors, places, pensions—
'Tis all a cheat, a damn'd a cruel cheat.
The wretch that feasts himself on promises,
Pursues a phantom, and but grasps at air;
Th' illusive vapour leads him to a bog
Then leaves him to his fate—cursed enticers!
Ye who seduc'd my soul to laugh at virtue,
To give up all my right to future bliss,
And bid me dare to stamp the die for ever:
Ye who encourag'd me with hopes of pardon,
To glut your vengence, for the cause was yours,
On weeping innocence; to act a deed,
Which sportive fame shall blow about the world.
Where are ye now?—

Enter Hazlerod.
Hazlerod.
What lost to grief!—dejected! can it be!
Can the poor verdict of some half form'd peasants,
Unmeaning dull machines, thus damp your courage
Rouse up my friend, for friend I still will call thee:
By every tie that links the humane mind,
That surest sympathy which cement souls,
Which like two rivers mingle mutual streams,
And roll together—thou art and shalt be mine.
Know then, we all have met and all determin'd
To aid the cause in hand—decrepid Meagre
In whom a passion of revenge is virtue;
And he, the life of all:—whose simple breath
Sways every action, cautious Latat
Whose soul ne'er knew one generous sentiment,
Which gives a sanction to humanity.
Steady and vigilant, in one sole plan,
To crush the friends of freedom, extirpate
The dear remains of virtue, and like Nero,
At one dread blow to massacre his millions.
Steady to this one plan, tho' dreary spectres
Scare all his soul and haunt his midnight slumber.
Yes, we will still protect thee.—'Tis impossible
A cause so much at heart, shou'd droop and languish,
And we not lend an aid—when S---r bled,
We snuff'd the rich perfume, the groans of youth.
Gods! they were musick in our ears—you therefore
Shall one day leave this dismal tenement,
Again with pleasing scenes of blood and carnage,
To glut our vengeance—yes—by heaven we swear,
You shall be free whatever pangs it cost us.
We'll laugh at all the howls of patriotism.
Should virtue check, should conscience whisper terror,
And lash our troubled minds, we'll brave it all.—

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Brutus, and Marcus a young Patriot.
Brutus.
It must be so—our fates are too unkind.
Who would have thought, beneath an air of virtue.
Solemn grimace, and proffer of fair deeds,
Should lurk such boseness—To see the Patriot,
Reeking in gore, excites the keenest transport,
Oh! my poor country! when I see thee wounded,
Bleeding to death—it pains me to the soul
Long have I wept in secret—nay, could weep
'Till tears were chang'd to blood—When will it be,
When high-soul'd honor beats within our bosoms,
And calls to action—when thy sons like heroes,
Shall dare assert thy rights, and with their swords
Like men, like freemen, force a way to conquest
Or on thy ruins gloriously expire.—

Marcus.
Oh! Brutus, you excite a generous transport.
In such a cause, pleas'd could I bare my bosom,
And pour my choicest blood—yes, I have seen,
Tho' young I've seen, such crimes by ermind wretches,
As would have shock'd a century, one thing I wonder,
That deeds so foul should find such warm abettors.

Brutus.
You little know the world—there greater vices,
Lead to preferment, the man of honest mind,
Whose generous soul disdains a grov'ling action.
And grasps alone at virtue—sinks neglected:
Yes, my young friend, would you be great and powerful
Loaded with wealth and honor, be a rascall,
Stoop low and cringe—stick not at oaths, nor let
Thy shrinking soul, start at the thought of MURDER,
Then to Rapatio go, and Hazlerod,
And all the band shall give an hearty welcome.

Marcus.
Oh no! I scorn it—better live a poor man,
And die so too—while virtue and my conscience,
Speak peace within—better, tho' hate and malice,
May shoot their shafts against me—better thus
To make my Exit, while the soul with comfort
Reviews the past and smiles upon the future.

Brutus.
Yes, Marcus, poverty must be thy fate,
If thou'rt thy country's friend—Think upon it
When I'm gone, as soon perhaps I may be
Remember it—those men whose crimes now shock,
May close their measures—Yes, the wish'd for period
May soon arrive, when murders, blood and carnage,
Shall crimson all these streets; when this poor country
Shall loose her richest blood, forbid it heaven!
And may these monsters find their glories fade,
Crush'd in the ruins they themselves had made,
While thou my country, shall again revive,
Shake off misfortune, and thro' ages live.
See thro' the waste a ray of virtue gleame,
Dispell the shades and brighten all the scene.
Wak'd into life, the blooming forest glows.
And all the desart blossoms as the rose.
From distant lands see virtuous millions fly
To happier climates, and a milder sky.
While on the mind successive pleasures pour,
'Till time expires, and ages are no more.

[Exeunt omnes.