University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

Cassius, Cicero, Cimber.
Cas.
Have I come late? But ah,
Brutus is not yet here.

Cim.
He comes ere long.

Cas.
Here many of our friends would follow me:
But in these melancholy walls, are spies
So much more numerous than good citizens,
That, all suspicion wholly to prevent,
I rather chose to come here unattended.
To the unbending rectitude of Cimber,
To Cicero's perspicuous intellect,
Lastly to my implacable revenge,
'Twere now sufficient could we only add
The sublime energy of Brutus' rage.
Can e'er another council be convened
Of nobler temperament than this, and hence
Better adapted to exert itself
For Rome's prosperity?

Cic.
Ah! may the Gods
That watch o'er Rome will that it thus may prove!
I, far as in me lies, do hold myself
With hand, voice, heart, ready to serve my country.
And I regret that there remains to me
But a weak remnant of declining years
To sacrifice for her. My wasted strength
Can with my hand but little serve her cause;
But if this tongue hath ever in the forum
Or in the senate, the high sentiments
Of freedom utter'd; more than ever yet,
On this day Rome shall hear me thunder forth
The same high sentiments of freedom: Rome,
Whom I will not a single day survive,
If she is doom'd to fall amid her chains.

Cas.
Thou always wert the sincere orator
Of liberty; and by thy eloquence hath Rome
Oft from her abject lethargy been roused:
But who remains now that deserves to hear thee?
All now are apprehensive, or are bribed;
Nor, if they heard them, could they comprehend
Thy elevated sentiments ...

Cic.
The people,
Though no more Roman, is a people still:
And though each man be in himself debased
As far as man can be, the greater part,
Soon as the multitude collects, is changed:
I further would assert, that we may give them,
When in the forum they're assembled all,
A spirit altogether different
From that which each 'mid his own Lares feels.
Truth, falsehood, anger, pity, reason, grief,
Justice, and honour, glory even yet,
Are impulses, which, by the man who has them
All truly in his heart, as on his lips,
May be, yes all of them, at will transfused
(Whate'er their individual character)
Into the hearts of congregated thousands.
I hope to-day to ascend, and not in vain,
The rostrum, if indignant eloquence,
Fervid and free, may aught avail; and there,
If it be needful, I'm resolved to die.
Say on what base was that prodigious power
Of Cæsar founded, which we all now fear?
Th'opinion of the many. With the sword,
'Tis true, he conquer'd Gaul, but with his tongue,
With plausible insinuating words,
First o'er his legions the ascendency
He gain'd, and o'er the people then in part:
He could not purchase, or exterminate all,
He only: but he easily could make,
All those whom he had first inveigled, slaves.
And cannot we then equally with him
Make language instrumental to our purpose?
Cannot we undeceive, illuminate,
And medicate the heart and intellect
Of all our fellow citizens? The truth,
In such a contest, 'twixt my eloquence,
And that of the tyrannical dictator,
The truth would be on my side, force on his.
And in the noble drift of my discourse
Do I so much confide, that if but once
I gain a hearing, I his weapons scorn.
To hearts and ears that have been Roman once,
Such fervid language I may yet address,
That for a while at least they may become
Romans once more. The character of Cæsar
Fully disclosed, and Cæsar is no more.

Cim.
There is no doubt, but that if Rome could hear thee,
Thy manly speech might rouse her to new life:
But if thou also generously chose
To ascend alone, and die upon the rostrum,
For now to him 'tis fatal who dare breathe
The name of freedom thence; if also thou
Dared to do this alone; by the infamous,
And purchased howlings of base parasites
All means of being heard would be cut off.
Those wretches now exclusively possess
The bar of eloquence, and banish thence
All upright orators. On Tyber's banks
Rome stands no longer: it behoves us now
In the remotest provinces to seek
For arms, for virtues, and for citizens.
A dire necessity, and this alone,
Could justify us in recurring now
T'intestine war; but yet this is not peace.
We are compell'd once more with blood to purge
Those rankling humours, which, oppressing Rome,
Keep her exanimate 'twixt life and death.
The illustrious Cato was a real Roman,
And he detested uselessly to shed
The blood of citizens: yet that most just
Among just men, profess'd, that, “nursed in arms,
And now by arms exhausted, arms alone
Can now regenerate Rome.” What else remains
For us to do? Or Rome is overcome,
And with her fall all her true citizens;
Or she's victorious, and the guilty ones
Are all dispersed, annihilate, or changed.
Has Cæsar quite chain'd victory to his car?
Let him be only once discomfited,
And e'en his very partizans, convinced
That he is not invincible, will then
With other eyes behold him; with one voice
All will then dare to execrate his name,
And, as an impious tyrant, to proscribe him.

Cas.
Why first by us should he not be proscribed?
When we ourselves should give it, when ourselves
Should be the first to execute the sentence,
From a vile populace should we expect it?
While at our will, e'en in the midst of Rome,
Within her dwellings, in the very senate,
We may thus cope with Cæsar, and obtain
O'er him a complete victory; in the camp,
Ought he, and at the risk of many lives
Less impious than his own, to be provoked
By us to dangerous and uncertain fight,
Perhaps to be the victor?—Where a sword,
This sword of mine alone, and this my fierce,
Inexorable rage that makes me wield it,
Suffice, more than suffice, to annihilate
That despicable life, which holds all Rome
In tears, unworthily enslaved and chain'd;
Where nought is wanting to destroy the tyrant
Whoe'er he be, except a single sword,
And one, a Roman, that may brandish it;
Wherefore should we unsheathe so many?—Ah!
Let others sit in council, weigh, discuss,
Delay, and waver till they miss the time:
I, among all schemes, deem the briefest best;
And now especially since the most brief
Will be the boldest, noblest, and most sure.
Worthy it is of Rome to slay this one
Openly; and by the hand of Cassius
Cæsar deserves to die. To the just rage
Of other men I leave the punishment
Of th'infamous slave—consul Anthony.—
Lo, Brutus comes: ah, let us, let us hear,
If he dissents from me.