 | The Death of Caesar |  |
SCENE V.
CÆSAR, BRUTUS.CÆSAR.
Brutus return! I would a while converse
With thee in secret. Whither dost thou bend
Thy hasty footsteps?
BRUTUS.
Far from tyranny.
CÆSAR.
Lictors, detain him.
BRUTUS.
Be the work complete,
And take my life.
CÆSAR.
If, Brutus, in my wrath
I thirsted for thy blood, I need but speak,
And thou art mingled with the dead. Too well
Hast thou deserved it; thy ingratitude
And pride of heart is savagely intent
Ever to thwart my views. Again I find thee
Assembled with these Romans, whose designs
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Who have so oft affronted me, dared blame
My every measure, my resentment scorn.
BRUTUS.
They spake to thee, as Romans ought to speak.
And wert thou by the gods inspired, their counsels.
Would lead thee still.
CÆSAR.
Thy boldness I endure;
Nay hear thee willingly; to thee descend
Even with pleasure from my higher station.
What layst thou to my charge?
BRUTUS.
A ravaged world;
The blood of nations, and thy plunder'd country;
Thy power; the very virtues which give birth
To thy injustice, bound (as 'twere) in league,
All thy attempts to render fortunate;
That fatal clemency which gilds thy chains;
A magic spell, wherewith to captivate
Th'infatuated world.
CÆSAR.
All these reproaches
Pompey had well deserved; who with the glare
Of his pretended virtue dazzled thine.
That haughty citizen, to Rome more fatal,
Disdain'd to share equality of rank
Even with Cæsar. Think'st thou had he proved
My conqueror, that his proud dilating soul
Would e'er have suffer'd liberty to breathe?
Thou too beneath his arbitrary yoke
Must have bent low; what then had Brutus done?
BRUTUS.
He would have slain him.
CÆSAR.
And hast thou decreed
Amid thy tow'ring thoughts this fate for me?
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Thou livest for my destruction.
BRUTUS.
If thy mind
Hath thus persuaded thee, prevent my fury,
Say, what restrains thee?
CÆSAR.
Nature; and a heart
Full of affection.—Read, ungrateful, read,
And know what blood within thy adverse breast
Is stirr'd 'gainst mine; see where thy hatred aims;
And if thou canst, pursue its dictates still.
BRUTUS.
What do I see? where am I? do my eyes
Deceive me?
CÆSAR.
Now, my son! my Brutus?
BRUTUS.
Cæsar
My father! O all-mighty gods!
CÆSAR.
I am in spite of thy ingratitude—
With what ferocious silence.—Oh! excuse me—
These sobs which burst forth from thy labouring bosom—
My son!—And do I hold thee mute within
My straining arms? Hath nature then the power
T'astonish only—not to soften thee?
BRUTUS.
Oh, dreadful fate!—I see despair before me.
Oh, my late solemn oaths! Alas, my country!
O Rome for ever dear!—Is Cæsar?—Hah!
Wretch that I am, why hath my line of life
Been stretch'd thus far?
CÆSAR.
Speak—speak—with what remorse
Is thy heart torn asunder! Hide not aught
From me.—Still wrapt in silence! dost thou dread
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Doth it offend thy ear? Art thou afraid
That I shall lavish too much love upon thee?
That I shall make thee partner of my rank?
Alas! th'imperial sceptre of the world,
The power supreme, this Cæsar whom thou hatest,
Hath coveted for thee.—With thee, my son,
And with the young Octavius, willingly
Shall I divide those honours I have gain'd,
The produce of an hundred victories,
The regal title, and majestic sway.
BRUTUS.
O gods!
CÆSAR.
Fain would'st thou speak; and yet by force
Restrain thy tongue from utterance! These emotions;
Shall interpret them from tenderness,
Or from aversion sprung? What secret thus
Deep pent within thy bosom, seems t'o'erwhelm thee?
BRUTUS.
Cæsar.
CÆSAR.
My son! I listen with impatience.
BRUTUS.
I cannot speak to him.
CÆSAR.
Still dost thou fear
T'address me by the tender name of father?
BRUTUS.
If by that sacred tie I may invoke thee,
Oh, grant me one request!
CÆSAR.
Say, what, my Brutus?
To thee a favour granted, I shall think
Absolute gain.
BRUTUS.
Doom me to death this instant!
Or banish all ideas of a crown.
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Oh, unrelenting enemy! whose fierceness
Will tiger-like to no caresses yield,
Unmoved by my affection! Know, thy heart
Whence nature is expell'd, hath harden'd mine;
And all a father's tenderness extinguish'd.
Go, I renounce thee. Stern republican,
Away! my breast with desperate rage inspired,
Is taught by thy example, and the soul,
Which thou hast wounded thus inhumanly,
At length with thine shall cease to feel, and quell
Reluctant nature.—Go, I was not born
On minds like thine to waste with idle breath
Intreaties vain; from Brutus I have learn'd
To cast away humanity. No more
Cæsar declares thee his, or even knows thee.
Loosed by my power from every chain, no more
Will I to mercy yield opposing justice.
With firm and steady calmness I obey
The dictates of my wrath.—My easy heart
Is weary of forgiveness. From this time
Sylla shall be my pattern, all his acts
Of violence shall be renew'd by Cæsar.
Yes, let th'ungrateful tremble at th'effects
Of my awaken'd vengeance. Hence, begone,
Inhuman as thou art.—Go, meet again
Thy base unworthy friends.—They all have leagued
T'abuse, insult me, and shall all experience
My power and will to punish. They shall know
Both what I can, and what I dare. Henceforth
I am a convert to barbarity, and thou alone the cause.
BRUTUS.
Oh! thus inclined—
I will not leave him to his cruel purpose;
But save, if possible, my friends, and Cæsar.
| The Death of Caesar | |