University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

In the same Vestibule.
Enter Brutus, Junia, Lucilius.
LUCILIUS.
A messenger express arriv'd from Rome,
Is entring mournfully the Palace Gates;
And, as he passes, weeping all the way.

BRUTUS.
My Mind forbodes; speak, is my Portia well?

Enter Messenger, who gives a Letter to Brutus.
MESSENGER.
She is, Sir.

BRUTUS.
Then I hope to bear the worst.
“My Duty forces me to send you News,
(Reads.
“Which, tho' you needs must know, I grieve to write.
“Two hundred of the noblest Rank in Rome
“Proscrib'd, and murder'd: Cicero himself
“Giv'n up by false Octavius to his Foes.
Good Heav'ns! to whom do ye dispose Mankind?
(Drops the Letter.
Sad Fate indeed; so great a Villany
Is most surprising, tho' 'tis done by them.

(Weeps.
JUNIA.
Dismal indeed! but oh my dearest Brother,
Let not your tender Mind be too much touch'd;
Practise that Patience which you now taught me.
Cassius is absent, I am desolate,
Yet Rome (you said) must take up all my Thoughts.

BRUTUS.
And therefore 'tis for Rome I most lament,
At once depriv'd of her most worthy Sons!
Those Sons are to be envy'd, not bemoan'd;
Most noble Suff'rers in their Country's Cause!
Great Cicero lives still, shall live for ever;
While Men can read, or value Worth or Learning.
But Rome her self appears all pale before me,
Gushing out Tears, and wringing helpless Hands;
Rome, Rome has lost her best, her purest Blood!

(Weeps again.
JUNIA.
Brutus, be cheer'd: her vital Parts remain;
In you and Cassius flows the Roman Spirit,
That still inspires whole Armies on her Side.

LUCILIUS.
'Tis nobly, truly said; and you bright Junia
Possess a Soul, tho' in a softer Frame,
Lofty enough to animate ev'n them.

BRUTUS.
She does, Lucilius; and were Portia here,
(But I alas shall never be so happy)
Cassius and I should be but Followers
Of them in the defence of Liberty
But oh, my Cicero! who speaks thy Praise,
Must have a Tongue like thine, beyond the Bounds
Of Roman Eloquence; and fit to fill
The Mouth of Fame with never-dying Sounds.

JUNIA.
How could Octavius consent to lose him,
The best, as well as wisest of his Friends?

BRUTUS.
Ambition over-eager, checks at nothing;
A goodly, but a dang'rous Bird of Prey;
Flies at all Game, and never to be tam'd,
She pecks, and tears the Hand on which she sits.
I often warn'd good Tully of his Danger;
But all in vain, when Heav'n will have it so.
He wish'd himself with us at Cæsar's Death,
And heartily, I doubt not; tho' his Foes
Suspected his too soft and tender Nature.

SCENE II.

Enter some Lictors, bringing in Theodotus with them bound as a Prisoner.
LICTOR.
We have discovered here Theodotus,
Odious to all Mankind for Pompey's Death.

JUNIA.
What, he that made a formal Speech for Murder?
And with a Philosophick Gravity
Sanctify'd Mischief with a rev'rend Tongue?
The Orator wants Words in his own Cause.

BRUTUS.
Speak for thy self; that Justice thou shalt have.

THEODOTUS.
Had I not often own'd my Crime with Tears,
So self-condemn'd already; or if Brutus
Were not my Judge, the good, the faultless Brutus;
Black tho' I now appear, and all disfigur'd
With common Prejudice; yet I might give
Fair colour to this hated, foul Offence.
But who can stand the Test of strictest Justice?
Or how can words avail to sway the Wise?
This Wisdom and this Justice are in Brutus:
So much superior thou to other Men,
That at thy Judgment-seat, the greatest Art
Is useless to excuse the smallest Fault.

BRUTUS.
Say boldly all thou can'st.

THEODOTUS.
Else, I might say, 'tis hard to be condemn'd
For doing that, which if I had not done,
I might have justly been condemn'd by those
Who summon'd me to Council for their Safety.
I thought their Safety ask'd for Pompey's Death:
Oh that I could redeem it with my own!
Pompey was great, was good, was wise, was valiant,
But yet was vanquish'd by more happy Cæsar;
Who, had his Foe been spar'd, would soon have shewn
A real Rage, which now he but affected.
Could Egypt stop the Victor of Pharsalia?
All we could give was but a poor Reprieve,
A hardship worse than Death to Minds resolv'd.
Rome and her Liberty entirely lost,
Pompey would have disdain'd a Life precarious,
Which yet had cost our King and Country dear.
Would he had counsell'd, and would I had dy'd!
For he, who as a Roman, dy'd for Rome;
If born with us, would have advis'd for Egypt

JUNIA.
With all thy Guilt, how durst thou name great Pompey

THEODOTUS.
Ev'n he was guilty once, and slew your Father.
Yet, grant he was the bravest, best of Men,
Victorious often in the Cause of Rome,
While I was but a Counsellor for Egypt.
Since Fame rewards his Service to his Country,
Should I be punish'd for assisting mine?

BRUTUS.
If Words could change the nature of ill Deeds,
Thy Head would be indebted to thy Tongue,
Which, I must needs allow, has done its part,
And makes my tender Nature wish thee hence,
Out of my Reach, as well as Will, to punish.
But here I stand the Substitute of Rome;
Which with united Sighs bemoans her Pompey,
And weeping waits to have his Death reveng'd.
Thy worthless Prince and Country were too slight
A Sacrifice to Pompey! At his Feet
Cæsar himself was not too great to fall:
Think but on that, and thou wilt dye content.
(Exeunt Lucilius and Officers with Theodotus.
'Twere barbarous to reason with a Wretch
Long since condemn'd to dye by Rome's Decree.
But he was no Egyptian, as he pleaded;
Nor subject to that Prince he so advis'd.

JUNIA.
What King or Country dares be so audacious
To hurt the meanest Senator of Rome?
How then durst any think of killing Pompey?

BRUTUS.
Presumptuous Wickedness! Pompey o'ercome,
Abandon'd by his Friends, a Fugitive,
At mercy of the meanest, basest Villain;
Yet in that lowest Ebb was much too high
For such a Prince as Ptolemy to reach.
From Ptolemy, prostrate at Pompey's Feet,
Not only Aid, but Reverence was due.
That Chief escaping, might have chang'd Rome's Fate;
And the whole World had been oblig'd to Egypt.

SCENE III.

Enter Lucilius.
LUCILIUS.
Base Villany is seldom at a stand,
But still proceeding on to greater Mischief:
From murd'ring Senators at Rome, they now
Lift their aspiring Treachery to Brutus.
The wise Athenians, watchful of your Safety,
Have newly seiz'd a Slave in foul Disguise;
Who on the Rack confesses all the Crime.
“Hie thee to Athens (said the base Octavius)
“And save thy Master, save us all, save Rome,
“Go purchase Fame and Freedom by a Blow:
“Our Foes are all united in that Brutus;
“He, he alone inspir'd the Death of Cæsar.
“Be desperate, be secret, and be rich.

BRUTUS.
I pity the poor Wretch; he knows no better.
At his Return, how would his Master grieve
To find me safer here, than he at Rome.
He does but shoot these Arrows in the Air.

LUCILIUS.
Except at Rome infected by our Foes,
Virtue like yours, is ev'ry where secure,
And claims the just Protection of Mankind.

JUNIA.
Your Life is so important,
Youths quit their Pleasures, Soldiers slight their Pay,
Ev'n Misers leave their Wealth to watch your Safety

BRUTUS.
Let go the Slave to tell Octavius this.

LUCILIUS.
What, save that Wretch?

BRUTUS.
Both save, and let him go.
In this Attempt he but obey'd his Master.
(Exit Lucilius.
Oh that there were no Romans worse than he!
This Slave would kill; but 'tis to get his Freedom!
But ah! ev'n Senators are growing Slaves,
Careless of Honour, void of Honesty,
Forgetting all their noble Ancestors,
And ruining a glorious Commonwealth!

Enter Titinius and Lucilius again.
TITINIUS.
Cassius has sent me here with this Reply,
He wants that Gold himself, which you would borrow;
Of which, at meeting, you shall have account.
These Letters I have brought for noble Junia.

(Junia goes out with the Letters.
LUCILIUS.
Your Legions then must stay till his are paid.

BRUTUS.
Think not the worst, Lucilius, e'er it comes.
At Sardis we shall meet by break of Day.
I'll take one Hour's repose, and then for Sardis.
Good Night to both.

LUCILIUS.
Rest to your noble Thoughts.

(Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Brutus remains, laid on his Couch
BRUTUS.
'Tis but in vain, Sleep is not to be courted.
Sing, Boy, the Song that Portia likes so well,
And sooth my Thoughts with some melodious Sounds.
(Soft Musick and Song.
Man is himself an Instrument of Musick;
But yet some String is always out of Tune,
And ev'ry Sound we make shews our Confusion.
Why should this Death of Cæsar trouble me?
I did it not for Anger, or Ambition;
But for mere Honesty, and Publick Good;
Nay, Good to him; for in my own Opinion,
'Tis better much to dye, than live unjustly
My Fellow Citizens, my Kindred, Friends,
All sunk at once beneath his rising Fortune.
And should I tamely suffer an Usurper
T'enslave Mankind, because he smiles on me?
Friendship indeed is the most tempting Bribe;
But Justice should be blind to all its Beauty.
And yet a Restlesness attends such Deeds,
Tho' ne'er so just: something that feels unwieldy,
That sits uneasy on a gentle Nature
I cannot sleep, unless I shake it off.

SCENE V.

Enter a Spirit in the Shape of Cæsar, full of Wounds.
[BRUTUS]
Sure I sleep now, or else my Eyes delude me:
I know 'tis Fancy all; and yet I stagger;
Ha, it comes on. What art thou? When alive,
Tho' arm'd with Pow'r, adorn'd with Fame and Greatness,
I fear'd thee not, because thou wert unjust;
But, more than human now, thou seem'st above me!
Speak, unknown Being! I conjure thee, speak.

SPIRIT.
I am thy Evil Genius, Marcus Brutus,
And have assum'd this Shape, to give thee Terror.

BRUTUS.
Terror? How cam'st thou to know Me no better?
Sure thou art ignorant, as well as evil.

SPIRIT.
Is Murder then no Crime?

BRUTUS.
Killing is none;
When done not for our selves, but for our Country?

SPIRIT.
Not for your self indeed; you stab'd your Friend.

BRUTUS.
Friend? Oh, thou touchest now my tender part!
Oh, name that word no more!

SPIRIT.
A Friend! a Friend!

BRUTUS.
But what's a Friend, compar'd with Publick Good?
Convince me, if thou can'st: Oh, teach me Truth!
And shew me but one glimpse of future Being,
Of which we talk so much, yet know so little!
Dispel these Mists that muffle poor Mankind,
And open to me all that glorious Scene!
Shew me where Virtue smiles, and sits enthron'd,
And where Morality finds just Reward;
'Tis sure, above: for ill Men prosper here.

SPIRIT.
Soon at Philippi thou shalt know it all.

BRUTUS.
Shall we then meet again?

SPIRIT.
Yes, at Philippi.

BRUTUS.
I'll meet thee there. I'll meet thee any where.
(Exit Spirit.
Now I am resolute, the Shadow flies,
And vanishes together with my Fear.
What hoa!

Enter Boy.
My Lord;

BRUTUS.
Did you see nothing?

BOY.
No.

BRUTUS.
Nor hear me speak?

BOY.
Nothing at all, my Lord.

BRUTUS.
Let every thing be ready for our March;
And call me up, be sure, by break of Day.
Till then I'll sleep within.

(Exeunt.