University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE. I.

CASSIUS, CIMBER, DECIMUS, CINNA, CASCA, and the other Conspirators.
CASSIUS.
At length the time draws near, when Rome shall gain
A new existence; this auspicious day
The mistress of the world shall burst the bonds
Of her usurping lord. To you belongs
This unexampled glory, Cimber, Casca,
Probus, and Decimus. A single hour
Is the brief period of the tyrant's fate.
What Cato, Pompey, Asia's powers combined,
Fail'd to perform, our small determined band
Shall execute, we shall avenge our country.
While sounds like these shall strike th'astonish'd world,
Respect ye sons of men, imperial Rome!
Her chains exist no more.

CIMBER.
Connected by the strongest ties we stand
Prepar'd to follow thee, to strike, to die.
To live, if life with honour may be purchased;
To serve the senate, levelling with the dust
Cæsar's ambition, or to fall ourselves.

DECIMUS.
But wherefore look we round in vain for Brutus?
The mortal foe of this abhorred tyrant?
Who prompted, and receiv'd our solemn oaths?
Whose dagger must th'example give to ours?
This tardiness methinks agrees not well
With Cato's son-in-law.—Yet may he not
Be stopp'd by force? And Cæsar have discovered—
But see at length he comes.—Immortal gods,
With what dejection in his aspect!

CASSIUS.
Brutus!
My friend! what fatal accident o'erclouds
The lustre of thy virtue? Is the tyrant
Acquainted with it all? Is Rome betray'd?

BRUTUS.
Of the conspiracy against his life
Cæsar is ignorant: without suspicion,
He still confides in you.

DECIMUS.
What then afflicts thee?

BRUTUS.
An evil unforeseen, a dreadful secret,
Which known, will make you tremble.

CASSIUS.
Say, is death
Decreed to us, or to the proud usurper?
We all can die, but 'tis not our's to tremble.

BRUTUS.
No more; but hear; while I at least disclose
What will amaze thee.—I confess his life
To Rome, to you is forfeited; to kill him
Is meritorious; 'tis a debt we owe
To our posterity, and to the good
Of all mankind. I fix'd the time, the means,
The place, the very instant of his death.
I claim'd the privilege to strike the first
Most glorious blow; all is prepared.—Now learn
That Cæsar is my father.

CIMBER.
Thou his son!

CASSIUS.
The son of Cæsar!

DECIMUS.
Oh! my suffering country!

BRUTUS.
In private he was wedded to Servilia;
From which ill-omen'd marriage, I, most wretched,
Derive my birth.

CIMBER.
And is it possible?
Could the free blood which animates thy heart
Flow from a tyrant's veins?

CASSIUS.
It cannot be—
From such an origin thou could'st not spring—
Thy bosom glows with too much Roman virtue.

BRUTUS.
My shame (oh that it were not!) is most plain,
Glaring and manifest. You see my friend
The horror of my fate.—Yet by my word,
And by my solemn oath, that fate is yours;
To your arbitrement shall I submit.—
Which of you all hath strength of mind sufficient,
And stoic fortitude, surpassing far
Man's vulgar race, with justice to decide
How Brutus ought to act? Be you my guides;
All silent! All with downcast eyes! and Cassius,
Is he too mute? Will no one, on the brink
Of this abyss, lend me his succouring arm?
None urge me by encouragement to follow
Our predetermined course? Or from his store
Produce one argument to separate
My soul from guilt?—I see e'en Cassius trembles,
And with astonishment.—

CASSIUS.
When I reflect
Upon the counsel which I needs must give,
I cannot choose but tremble.

BRUTUS.
Speak!

CASSIUS.
Were Brutus
An ordinary citizen, my speech
Should thus proceed; go serve, and tyrannize
Beneath thy father! Level to its base
The state, which conscience, honour, every tie,
Bids thee support.—Rome will hereafter find
A favourable moment to destroy,
Instead of one, two execrable traitors.
But I am speaking to a different Brutus,
Of elevated soul, inferior scarce
To those of demigods and heroes old.
That champion, in the cause of liberty
Arm'd at all points, the mortal foe of tyrants;
Whose heart, strong-braced, firm, and unchangeable,
Hath purified the blood which Cæsar gave,
Nor left one drop of the corrupted mass
To taint th'unsullied stream. To thee I speak—
And heed me well.—Thou know'st with what a storm
Fierce Catiline e'er now, what ruin dire,
Threaten'd t'o'erwhelm his country?

BRUTUS.
Well, I know it.

CASSIUS.
If on the day, when with his felon hand
He stood prepared to give to liberty
Her desperate wound; if when the senate's voice
Past sentence on the traitor, he had then
Disclosed thy birth, and own'd thee for his son,
Necessitated to decide 'twixt us
And that detested monster—Say, on which
Would thy free choice have fallen?

BRUTUS.
Can Cassius ask me?
Or think my mind would, in an instant changed,
Have given the lie to every principle
Of generous virtue? Ballancing between
A single man, with infamy surcharged,
And the strong love which bound me to my country?

CASSIUS.
There Brutus to himself prescribed his duty.
There spake the senate, and with joy pronounced
The fatal sentence.—There his voice confirmed
Rome's great deliverance.—But within thy soul
Dost thou those sad uneasy yearnings feel,
Those doubts reluctant, and mysterious murmurs,
Which vulgar prejudice ascribes to nature?
Could Cæsar by a word annihilate
Thy patriot love? thy duty? faith? This secret,
Or false, or true, having discovered to thee,
And own'd thee for his son, will it avail
T'abstract a tittle from his crimes? Is not
Thy nature still essentially the same?
Art thou less Brutus? Art thou less a Roman?
Art thou less bound to us? thy heart, hand, life,
Less justly ours? But say, thou art his son!
Is not insulted Rome yet dearer to thee?
And more thy mother? Are not each of us
Leagu'd in one glorious cause, yet more thy brethren?—
Within these ever-hallow'd precincts born,
Foster'd by Scipio; by the guardian care
Of Pompey raised to man; th'adopted son
Of godlike Cato, and the friend of Cassius—
What more can'st thou desire? These sacred titles,
Whence spring thy truest ornament and fame,
Another would disgrace. Say, that the tyrant,
Urged on by passion, to his vile embrace
Seduced Servilia and thus gave thee birth—
Is this of consequence? Oh! let the follies
And inconsiderate union of thy mother
Rest undisturbed in their obscurity.—
Who formed thy soul to virtue? Who begot
The love of freedom in thy glowing breast?
And all thy nobleness of manners? Cato.
He only is thy father, who thy worth
Intrinsic moulded, and to light call'd forth
Th'ethereal part of thee.—Break then at once
The ties by him whose very name I loathe
This day imposed. Now rouse up all thy firmness,
With the bold tenor of our mutual oaths
Greatly to correspond: nor seek for parents,
But mind th'avengers of an harrast world.

BRUTUS.
And what, my gallant friends, is your opinion?

CIMBER.
By Cassius judge of us, by us of Cassius.
Could other sentiments inspire our souls,
Of all the sons of Rome, superior guilt
Would be our portion. But appeal not thou
To others; Brutus should consult himself,
And his own heart alone.

BRUTUS.
Oh! friends!—my bosom
Shall now be all unfolded to your view.
It is a book of horror to be read,
And crouded thick with blackest characters.
I will not hide from you a single thought.
My inmost soul is shock'd, and tears have flow'd,
The tears of anguish from a stoic's eye,
After our mutual oath, which now appears
Of dreadful import as it tended not
To serve the state alone, but slay my father.
Mourning our fatal consanguinity,
Ashamed to be the subject of his kindness,
Th'admirer of his virtues, the severe
Judge of his crimes, viewing the man from whom
My being I derive, o'erwhelm'd with guilt,
Yet great in arms, and of a mind sublime.
By him attracted, by the powerful love
I bear my country, ever held asunder,
Pity, and horror, struggling in my bosom,
And tearing every nerve; I wish that death
For him prepared, was now to fall on me.
Nay more, I must confess that I esteem him;
Midst all his crimes, his nobleness of heart.
Hath won me to him. If the kingly power
Could ever be submitted to in Rome,
He is the only tyrant we might spare.
Be not alarm'd; that name which I detest,
That name prevails, and every other tye
Is vanquish'd, and destroy'd. The senate, Rome,
And you brave sons of liberty, possess
My honour, duty, and fidelity
Inviolate, entire. I hear the voice
Of millions, and the world itself exclaim
Against a king. The general good requires
This sacrifice. With horror I embrace
The sternest form of virtue; you behold me
Shudder before you, but my faith is yours
Irrevocably fixt.—I go to meet
Cæsar once more. Oh! could the lot be mine
To soften, change his thoughts, preserve the state,
Preserve my father! May the immortal gods
Speak by my lips their own pure sentiments!
And strong, persuasive eloquence inspire,
To pierce, t'affect his heart! But if ambition
Blinds him, and renders all my efforts vain,
Then lift your arms o'er his devoted head!
Strike! I shall turn my eyes a different way.
I will not prove a traitor to my country
To save a father.—Be my rigid firmness
Prais'd or condemn'd; let this unheard of act,
Dazzling the world by it's excess of greatness,
Be look'd on as an object of it's horror,
Or admiration; with a soul endu'd,
Not anxious in it's memory to survive,
Reproach or glory are indifferent to me.
But ever independent, and a Roman,
My duty only claims my care,—all else
Is less than nothing.—Hence then,—and resolve
Breaking the yoke of slavery, to be free.

CASSIUS.
Thy sacred word is given, on that depends
The safety of the state, to thee our hopes
Are all intrusted, and we listen to thee
With that attention Cato would demand,
Or Rome herself, or our protecting gods.

SCENE III.

BRUTUS
Alone.
This is the time by Cæsar fixt, to meet,
And once more to confer with me.—There stands
The capitol, where death awaits his footsteps.
Eternal gods! Oh! from my soul remove
This cloud of horror! Let me not behold him
With detestation! Gracious powers! restrain
The vengeful arms, uplifted on his head
To fall with direst punishment; inspire
His ample soul (if that may be) with thoughts
More tender, more affectionate to Rome
And its true interests! Cause him to be just!
And then to my embraces give a father!
But see, he comes! I stand immoveable—
And rooted in astonishment!—Support,
Spirit of Cato! now support my virtue!

SCENE IV.

CÆSAR, BRUTUS.
CÆSAR.
What Brutus, is the purport of this meeting?
Is thy heart human? Art thou Cæsar's son?

BRUTUS.
I am, if Cæsar be the son of Rome.

CÆSAR.
Ungenerous and ill-taught republican,
What is thy aim? Was I desired to meet thee,
That thou might'st heap fresh insults on my head?
Say, cannot all my favours shower'd upon thee,
A subject world awaiting thy controul,
The glorious prospect of imperial sway,
My never wearied kindness, move thy heart?—
With what sensations dost thou view the crown?

BRUTUS.
With horror.

CÆSAR.
I lament, and can excuse
Thy prejudices, but art thou resolv'd
Ever to hate me?

BRUTUS.
No, I love thee Cæsar;
Thy noble deeds, long e'er thou had'st disclosed
The secret of my birth, inclined my soul
To reverence thee; I mourn'd, sincerely mourn'd
In secret to the gods, when I beheld
A man of such illustrious qualities,
At once the glory, and the scourge of Rome.
I cannot think of Cæsar as a king
Without abhorrence,—would he condescend
To be a citizen, I would adore him
As some divinity; my life, my fortunes,
And every earthly good would I devote
A grateful sacrifice.

CÆSAR.
On what in me is this abhorrence founded?

BRUTUS.
Upon thy tyranny. Oh! deign to hear
The sighs, the prayers, the counsels, of each true,
Each worthy Roman, with the senate's join'd,
Join'd with thy son's! Wouldst thou o'er all mankind
Possess the due priority of rank,
Enjoy th'undoubted honour, by a right
More sacred than the power of war can give;
Would'st be far superior to a king,
Superior e'en to Cæsar—

CÆSAR.
Whither tends?—

BRUTUS.
Thou seest the world in chains, enslaved, and bound
To thy triumphal car;—break all our fetters!
Restore us all to freedom!—be a Roman!
And cast away the diadem with scorn!

CÆSAR.
Ah! what hast thou advised?

BRUTUS.
To do no more
Than Sylla had the greatness to perform.
Long unopposed, he welter'd in our blood;
But when he granted Rome her liberty
All was forgotten; having laid aside
The power supreme, that action wash'd away
Each foul and sanguine stain: his barbarous rage
Soils not thy heart, dare to possess his virtues.
Thou canst humanely pardon an offender,
Oh Cæsar! let thy noble soul do more.
May not the kindness which thou shew'st, hereafter
Be from the treasures of remembrance taken,
And gratefully bestow'd again on thee?
Rome then intreats thee, the collected state
Implores thy clemency, their faults forgive,
And spare the worst of punishments, a king!
So, what we could not yield to rank or station,
Our hearts shall in submission bend before thee,
Then shalt thou truly reign, then shalt thou find
The zealous warmth of love, and all the duty
Of a fond son in Brutus.—Hah! that brow
In frowns contracted! And hast thou decreed
That I shall plead in vain?

CÆSAR.
Rome wants a master,
As one day, thou perhaps may'st dearly prove,
Our citizens are now more great than kings.
When manners change, a necessary change
Of laws ensues. The freedom which we claim,
Is but a dangerous right to hurt ourselves;
And all-destroying Rome is now mature
For self-destruction. Dreadful to the world,
The huge Colossus trampled on their realms;
By the too-wide, ambitious, ill-judg'd stretch,
Its giant frame is shaken to its base,
It nods, and 'gainst the desolating fall
Demands my succouring arm. In short, the time
Of Sylla was the period when we saw
Our antient virtues, all that boasted erst
The glorious, and peculiar term of Roman,
Our equal laws, the common-weal, destroy'd;
Since which they have been mere superfluous names.
In our corrupted Æra, when the state
Hath been so long the prey of civil wars,
Harrast and torn, thy language would persuade us
That now the Decii and Emilii flourish'd,
With justice, independence, honour, fame.
Oh, my lov'd son! thou ow'st these sentiments,
Generous indeed, but which mislead thy heart,
To Cato's erring notions; I foresee
Thy virtue, brooding o'er them, will subject
The state to ruin, while perhaps thyself
Shalt with it perish.—Give thy reason scope!
Oh, follow its free guidance! let it heed
If possible, in some degree, the words
Of him, who vanquished Cato, and debell'd
The arrogance of Pompey! heed a father,
Who loves thee, who with real grief beholds
The wand'rings of thy fancy! be indeed
My son! Oh Brutus, to my prayers afford
A portion of thy heart! let other thoughts
Find entrance there! I beg, nay I conjure thee,
By all the truest ardour of affection!
Lay not that task upon thy soul, that task
Most difficult to stifle, to subdue
Nature, and all its tender impulses!
Dost thou not answer me? Dost thou avert
From me thy eyes?

BRUTUS.
He tears me from myself,—
I am no longer Brutus;—strike ye gods!
Here aim your thunder!—Cæsar—

CÆSAR.
Speak at once,—
Say thou art touch'd, that thy breast feels within
The soft emotions rising into life.
Oh, tell me! speak my son.—

BRUTUS.
Dost thou behold
The toils of death encompass thee around?
That thou art doom'd its speedy prey? Behold'st thou
Each true-born Roman in the senate, glowing
With secret warmth, and ready in thy heart
To plunge the mortal steel? Oh! e'er that time
Arrives, obey the strongest arguments,
Rome's safety, and thy own, let them prevail!
By me, alarm'd, thy better genius speaks,
He urges, he impells me, sinks me thus
Upon my knees before thee.—Cæsar hear!
By our protecting and avenging gods,
Long disregarded! by thy many virtues!
By the once aweful dignity of Rome!
Nay, by thyself, and, if I may proceed,
By all the filial terrors which I now
With pangs sustain! By all the filial love
Awaken'd in a breast which thee prefers
To all mankind, and only Rome to thee!
Let me not suffer a repulse!

CÆSAR.
Oh! still
A slave to thy unhappy prejudice,
Leave me! to what a lowly ebb wouldst thou
Reduce the state of Cæsar?

BRUTUS.
Be persuaded,—
Why art thou thus obdurate?

CÆSAR.
Tho' the world,
And nature's self should change,—this fixed soul
Shall ne'er be moved.

BRUTUS.
Is this thy final answer?

CÆSAR.
It is, th'unalterable plan is form'd.
When Cæsar wills, Rome must, and ought t'obey.

BRUTUS.
Farewell then all my hopes!—Farewell to thee!

CÆSAR.
Hah! Say, what thoughts thus die thy cheeks with pale?
Stay, stay awhile my son!—Heaven, whence these tears!
Alas! can Brutus weep? Is it because
A king, and regal power will be establish'd?
Doth he lament the fate of Rome?

BRUTUS.
I weep
For thee alone,—once more farewell! farewell!

CÆSAR.
O, spirit worthy antient Rome! Oh virtue!
And fortitude heroic! why with him
Can I not mingle sentiments? And love,
With such enthusiastic warmth, my country?

SCENE V.

CÆSAR, DOLABELLA, ROMANS.
DOLABELLA.
Th'assembled senate, as was thy command,
Are met i'th temple of the capitol.
For thee alone they wait, I saw the throne
Erected. All whose lives and suffrages
Are thine by right of purchase throng around
Thy statues, and with lavish praises pour
Due homage there. The Roman citizens,
The multitude are all prepared to come
With me their leader, and no doubt the senate
Will fix their wavering minds.—But might I give
Advice to Cæsar, would he hear an old
And faithful soldier, bound by every tye
To prosecute his interests, would he heed
Those dreadful omens, which with terror fill
The bosoms of his friends, and join'd to these
The warning sooth-sayers, nay Heaven itself,
The interfering gods, he would defer
His great attempt to more auspicious times.

CÆSAR.
Hah! when the crown is placed within my reach,
Can'st thou advise me to defer a moment?
Say, who on earth can frustate my designs?

DOLABELLA.
All nature seems with one consent to join,
And with unprosperous augury forbid thee
To urge thy purpose farther, why? Unless
Heaven, that to monarchs gives their diadem,
Is fearful of thy death!

CÆSAR.
What then is Cæsar?
I boast not aught beyond the state of man.
Can I believe that Heaven would e'er disturb
Its peace for me? And with prophetic voice
Bid mute and senseless nature to foretell
My hidden fate? That all the elements
Would in confusion rise, to add a day,
A little day, to the short transient life
Of one poor mortal?—By th'eternal gods
In their exalted sphere our days are numbered;
Let us, without retreat or dread, pursue
Where leads their strong, unerring destiny.
Cæsar hath nought to fear.

DOLABELLA.
But he hath foes,
Who with reluctance this new yoke survey,
Nor will with ease be tam'd into subjection.
Who knows what desperate steps revenge may take!
How in their rage they may conspire against thee!

CÆSAR.
They will not, dare not.

DOLABELLA.
Thou hast arm'd thy heart
With too much confidence.

CÆSAR.
What should I gain
By using poor precautions to ward off
The fatal period? Merited contempt.
E'en these precautions too might fail to guard me.

DOLABELLA.
Cæsar should be more careful of a life
On which the safety of all Rome depends.
At least permit me, (this may well be granted)
T'attend thee to the senate.

CÆSAR.
No; why alter
Our preconcerted plan? The time we fix'd
Let us by no means hurry on so rashly.
The man who deviates from his first resolve,
Well-founded, shews his weakness by the change.

DOLABELLA.
I leave thee with regret.—My conscious heart
Owns, that it beats with strong-imagin'd fears;
Those new emotions overcome its firmness.

CÆSAR.
No more; much rather would I die at once,
Than be afraid of death.
Let us away!

SCENE VI.

DOLABELLA,
ROMANS.
O friends! O citizens! what mighty hero,
Whose deeds in arms, whose never-yielding spirit,
What conquests, from th'extensive world, and you
Could more applause, or more of homage claim?
You, who confess his virtues, who admire
His glorious actions, join your wills with mine!
Confirm those honours destin'd to reward
Him whom you ever lov'd!—May we exist
But for his service, and with ardour shed
Our blood in his defence!—What clamours, Heaven!
What dreadful sounds are these!

The Conspirators behind the Scenes.
Die tyrant, die,
Courage, strike, Cassius.

DOLABELLA.
Let us fly to save him.

SCENE VII.

CASSIUS, a dagger in his hand, DOLABELLA, ROMANS.
CASSIUS.
The deed is done, the tyrant is no more.

DOLABELLA.
Now, now assist me Romans! rush upon him!
And pierce the traitor with a thousand wounds!

CASSIUS.
Strive, strive my countrymen, to imitate
What this right hand hath gloriously perform'd!
You are no longer subject to a master.
Nation of heroes! conquerors of the world!
Hail the return of liberty! this hand
Hath broke her fetters.

DOLABELLA.
Will you then betray
The cause of him you loved, my countrymen?
In worth transcendent, in renown unrivall'd,
Shall his illustrious blood flow unrevenged?

CASSIUS.
For you, for Rome, I have not spared from death
My dearest friend.—Whose blood is spilt, but his
Who would have fasten'd on you servile bonds?
Say, is there one among you all that hear me
So low in virtue, of a soul so tame,
A spirit so infirm, as to regret
Cæsar and slavery? Is there here a Roman
So vile, so base as to desire a king?
If there be one,—speak,—load me with reproaches.
I see instead, joy spread o'er every face.
You could not but applaud the righteous deed,
For all of you were born the heirs of fame,
Lovers of glory, and heroic virtue.

ROMANS.
He was a tyrant,—may his memory perish!
Perish the name of Cæsar!

CASSIUS.
You, who now
Can call the world your own!—Offspring of Rome!
Who now your long-lost happiness may boast!
Preserve for ever in your noble hearts
These glowing sentiments!—But let me warn you
Against surprize; I know that Anthony
Means to appear before you; recollect
That Cæsar was his master, that he served
Beneath him even from his tender years,
Instructed in that school iniquitous,
In each tyrannic art.—He will attempt
To justify his lord, his views ambitious,
And thirst of government.—But much of you
Will he misdeem, if he supposes aught
Of subtle rhetoric from his lips pronounced,
Will turn your souls aside.—Here must he speak;
It is his right; such are the laws of Rome;
These laws are sacred, nor shall Cassius ever
Fail to obey them. But meantime, forget not
That the collective body of the people
Have now supreme authority, the judges
Of Cæsar, Anthony, and of myself.
Again you enter on your legal rights,
By violence, and fraud, unworthily
So long denied. By Cæsar ravisht from you,
Take them again from me, not shorn of strength,
But firmer, more establish'd. Now I seek
The capitol, there Brutus with the senate
In council sits, me he expects, the time
Demands immediate haste.—With him combined,
Again within this seat of anarchy,
Justice shall walk revered; our exiled gods
Return propitious; this, our grateful task;
Nor shall we fail to stifle the remains
Of factious rage, to crush the latent plots
Of desperate villany, and raise once more
The beauteous pile of freedom from its ruins.
Only do you, my much-loved countrymen,
With willing hearts consent to be restored
To every privilege, and render'd happy;
Do not betray yourselves, I ask no more.
Dread Anthony's designs, but chief beware
Lest he should circumvent you by his wiles,
And nice display of art.

ROMANS.
Let him presume
To speak a word 'gainst Cassius, and he dies.

CASSIUS.
These words be as a sacred bond betwixt us!
Imprint them, gentle Romans, on your minds;
Remember them and me.

ROMANS.
Our hearts are fixed,
Ne'er to forget th'avengers of their country.

SCENE VIII.

ANTHONY, ROMANS, DOLABELLA.
FIRST ROMAN.
But see, Mark Anthony!

SECOND ROMAN.
What, I admire,
Can he dare offer?

THIRD ROMAN.
How he weeps! His soul
Is much afflicted.—Hark! he groans.

FOURTH ROMAN.
Most dearly
He loved the death-doom'd Cæsar.

ANTHONY,
from the rostrum.
I confess it.
My heart was link'd to his; with joy unfeign'd
To shield him from the stroke; I would have bared
This bosom to the fury of his foes.
Alas! the time hath been, when you too joined
Your love with mine, and when you shall reflect,
That casting from his brow the proffered crown,
In veneration of our sacred laws,
He yet this day hath fallen a bleeding victim,
Which of you can refuse to praise the hero?
Who would not even for his sake have died?
But ah! I mean not with my feeble voice
T'exalt his memory; that, throughout the world,
By glory borne, fills the loud trump of fame.
I only ask you, with an eye of pity,
To view my poignant anguish, or at least
To gain your pardon for the tears of friendship.

FIRST ROMAN.
Then should thy tears have flow'd, when Rome was forced
To crouch beneath a master. What avails it,
That we acknowledge Cæsar was an hero?
He was a traitor likewise to his country.

SECOND ROMAN.
He was a tyrant.—He possest of virtue!
Impossible.

THIRD ROMAN.
Impossible. We all approve the deed
Of Cassius, and of Brutus.

ANTHONY.
I am silent,—
Nor urge I aught against the men who slew him;
No doubt, their noble hearts aspired to serve
The general weal. For this they pierced the breast
Of your dictator; loaded with his kindness,
For this, their hands impurpled in his blood.—
To force the souls of Romans to an act
So horrid in its nature, Cæsar's crimes
Were surely equal to the vengeance taken,
Nor otherwise do I believe.—Yet tell me,
Tell me sincerely, did you ever feel,
My countrymen, the weight of Cæsar's power
Imposed upon you? Did he, for himself,
For his own use, hoard up the costly fruits
Of his extended conquests? For your brows,
The spoils of the wide world were hither brought,
A wreath (as 'twere) to crown them. All the wealth
Of all the nations which his power o'ercame,
By his toils purchased, by his many wounds,
On you, profusely generous he bestow'd.
Did he not watch from his exalted car
Your clouded aspects? Would he not descend?
Search out your hidden griefs, and wipe away
Each starting tear?—He brought the universe
Under subjection, but to you resign'd
The triumph; you enjoy'd it at your ease,
In the full pleasure of domestic quiet.
His courage made you great, his benefits
Render'd you happy; did he e'er neglect,
If but well-meant, to gratify a service?
Was there any injury he could not pardon?—
Immortal gods! bear witness! you whose image
He was on earth! bear witness mighty gods!
Who to his sway resign'd this nether sphere,
That the prime object of his soul was mercy.

ROMANS.
True, for his bounty, and his clemency,
Cæsar was always loved.

ANTHONY.
Alas! my friends!
Could his superior soul have e'er admitted
But an idea of revenge, his life
Had been secure, and by that sacred life,
Our wishes in their utmost latitude
Had been accomplish'd. He, instead, shower'd thick
Rewards and favours on his murtherers' heads.
Twice he preserved the life of Cassius.
Brutus,—but I am lost,—O gracious gods!
O unexampled crime! barbarity
Beyond expression, or conceit!—My soul,
O my dear countrymen, recoils,—I faint,—
A misty darkness shrouds my every sense.—
Brutus, that cruel monster,—was his son.

ROMANS.
Great gods!

ANTHONY.
I see, your generous virtue scarce
Supports the shock; your lofty spirits shrink
Back from the thought,—and now the softening tear,
Best proof of sweet humanity, descends.
Yes, Brutus was his son,—but unconfined
Was his affection,—You, who now are present,
Who hear me plead his cause, were all his sons,
Th'adopted of his heart.—Oh! did you know
His will! his final testament!

ROMANS.
Inform us,—
What of his will?—Speak,—say,—

ANTHONY.
The Roman people
Are his appointed heirs; to you belong
His riches, soon to be surrendered up
To your possession. Not the tomb itself
Bounded your Cæsar's love; you see his mind,
For your advantage, busied still beyond it.
His heart was ever fix'd on you alone.
For you, o'er Asia's hostile fields he plann'd
His destined march; for you, resolved to risque
His life, his fortune, prodigal of both.
O Romans! (I have often heard him thus
Exclaim in secret) truly royal race!
Whom I delight to serve.—Cæsar may rule
The vanquish'd earth, but you shall govern Cæsar.
Would Brutus, or would Cassius thus have acted?
Or heeded more the interest of their country?

ROMANS.
We hate them, we detest them,—we resent
The very question.

FIRST ROMAN.
Cæsar was alone
The father of the state.

ANTHONY.
Th'indulgent father.
But never shall our eyes behold again
His gracious form.—Confederates vile in ill,
Base, infamous assassins, have cut short
The measure of his days; by violence
Have ravish'd from us, this transcendent man,
In every excellence of soul transcendent,
The boast, the matchless ornament of nature,
The wonder of the world, the pride of Rome.
And shall we to our father, to our best
Of guardians and protectors, who deserved
All our affection, shall we fear to grant him
An honourable burial? shall we fail
To raise, my gentle friends, his funeral pyre?
But lo, they bring him hither!—see before us
His breathless corse!

The further Part of the Stage opens. The Lictors bearing the Body of Cæsar covered with a bloody Robe. Anthony descends from the Rostrum, and casts himself on his Knees by the Body.
ROMANS.
O melancholy sight!

ANTHONY.
All that remains behold, of him who stood,
But now, unequall'd 'mid the sons of Rome,
The greatest of mankind! Behold the god
Of your idolatry! your strong avenger!
Whom e'en his murtherers often have adored
With bended knees! In peace your guardian friend!
Your tutelary power in dangerous war!
Who soon victorious would have brought in chains
Persia's dread monarch fasten'd to his car!
Thus changed, thus prostrate, say, my friends, is this
Your ever-conquering chief? your darling Cæsar?
See, gentle Romans! see his numerous wounds!
Touch them with reverence! View his hallow'd blood,
From its warm veins by perjured ruffians sluiced!
There Cimber struck; there in th'heroic man,
Cassius and Decimus plunged deep their steel,
Here the abandon'd Brutus, Brutus lost
To every sense of feeling and of shame,
To all that's human, in paternal blood
Imbrued his most unnatural hand; while Cæsar,
Looking upon him with a tranquil eye,
Yet glistening with the beams of mild affection,
Forgave him as he fell beneath his sword.
He call'd him son; that dear and tender name
Was all which Cæsar utter'd at his death:
My son! said he, and with that word expired.

FIRST ROMAN.
Infamous monster! Oh that angry Heaven
Had torn him from the earth, his crimes pollute,
Before this execrable deed was done!

OTHER ROMANS.
Gods! how his blood still flows!

ANTHONY.
It calls aloud
For vengeance, from your generous souls expects it,
And executive hands. Regard its voice!
Rouse all your feelings! from this trance of grief
Awake! Prepare for action! Follow me
Against his murtherers! E'er we punish them,
How vain all other honours we can pay
To Cæsar's manes! With the flaming brands
Snatch'd from his pile, let us reduce to ashes
The dwellings of these proud conspirators!
And in their bosoms plunge the sharpen'd steel
Of madd'ning indignation!—Haste,—display
Your native worth,—haste, to the just revenge
Of crimes most horrible, and sacrifice
These victims to his country's guardian god!

ROMANS.
We all are ready; they shall die.—Away!
We follow thee;—we swear by this his blood,
Most amply to revenge his timeless death!
Away! haste! fly!

ANTHONY,
to DOLABELLA.
Let us not suffer them
To spend their rage in useless deeds, but seize
Th'occasion, give no time, and hurry on
Their vague and ductile passions;—stir them up
To mutiny and war; and thus without
Long schemes of art, with zeal and active heat
Revenging Cæsar's death, at once succeed him.