University of Virginia Library

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.