Brutus alone in his House undrest.
He would be King; nay will be, if he lives;
This most important Day disclos'd that Secret:
Ambition, like a mad tempestuous Sea,
Swell'd him above the Bounds of wise dissembling.
And ended all our Hopes of future Freedom.
Justice, and Liberty! Farewell for ever!
If Brutus is thus sensible of Slav'ry,
I, who am Cæsar's Friend, and partial for him;
What is it then to others? to those thousands
Who must lye heap'd in Dust, to raise him higher?
But my own Words reproach me; can I call
My self his Friend, and yet consent to kill him?
By Heav'n, no less than plain Ingratitude!

That heavy Load presses my tender mind;
I cannot bear it. Nay, this Cæsar also
Is humbly brave, and gentle in his Greatness;
Apt for Converse, and easy of Access;
Skill'd in all Arts, matchless in Eloquence;
In War and Business indefatigable.
Bounteous as Nature, merciful as Heav'n;
In all, sublime, high, and unparallel'd.
Yet oft Humility is but the Ladder,
By which th' ambitious Climber gets so high;
But, when he once attains the upmost Round,
Then straight he throws the useless Engine down,
Looks in the Clouds, and scorns the low degrees
By which he did ascend. Then Rome is lost!
But is there no way left us, but his Death?
What, kill the best, and bravest of Mankind,
Only for Jealousy? Of being Slaves.
Oh dismal Sound! Who can dread that too much?
The fear of Slavery is Fortitude.
And, to advise him? No, 'tis easier

To kill a Tyrant amidst all his Guards,
Than give him Counsel for his Country's Good.
This Cæsar's Prudence may a while restrain him;
But if Ambition once transports his Mind,
Down sink at once all thoughts of Right, or Reason.
Goodness of Nature makes some struggle in him;
But even that Goodness will incline to think,
Rome shall be happier, when himself is higher.
Lucius awake; what hoa! why Lucius!
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
Lucius, awake, awake;

LUCIUS.
Call you my Lord?

BRUTUS.
Get me a Taper in my Study, Boy;
Then, come and call me strait. (Exit Lucius; Re-enters immediately.

LUCIUS.
Here is a Scroll
Newly thrown in at Window fast seal'd up.

BRUTUS.
Give it me, Boy, and haste to light the Taper. (Exit Lucius.
'Tis not yet Day, but such a fiery Night,
That I may make a shift to read this Parchment.
“Brutus, awake; for Rome has lost her Rest, (Reads.
“And takes it ill that thou shouldst sleep so soundly:
“Awake, and strike!—There was a Brutus once—
“And Tarquin—Ha, thus I must piece it out;
There was a Brutus who redeem'd his Country,
And did what now we all expect from thee.
“Shall Rome—'Tis dark, but sure it must be thus. (Reads.
“Shall Rome, the Mistress of the prostrate World,
“Be ravish'd by a Tyrant? Brutus, strike.
O Rome! and dost thou call upon thy Brutus?

Am I thought worthy of thy choice? 'Tis done:
Thou shalt not wait for aid that I can bring thee. Enter Lucius again.

LUCIUS.
Some body knocks at Gate, Sir, shall I open?

BRUTUS.
See, who 'tis first; go Boy, and bring me word. (Exit Lucius.
Would it were over once; I cannot rest:
In such a Plot there is no Peace of Mind:
The harshness of this Deed would sink my Spirits,
Did not assisting Justice hold me up. Enter Lucius with a Taper.

LUCIUS.
'Tis Cassius, my Lord.

BRUTUS.
Is he alone?

LUCIUS.
No, but I could not well perceive the rest,

Their Faces are so muffled in their Robes.

BRUTUS.
Let them come in. They are the Faction! SCENE II. Enter Cassius and the rest of the Conspirators muffled in their Robes.

BRUTUS.
Welcome, good Brother Cassius: welcome all.

CASSIUS.
Welcome the hour that brings us thus together.

BRUTUS.
Know I these Men?

CASSIUS.
You know them, and their Hearts,
Which are all set upon the Noble Brutus.
This is Trebonius; this Decius Brutus,
This Cinna, Casca, and Metellus Cimber:
Your Friends, and Followers, all.

BRUTUS.
They are most welcome.

CASSIUS.
Brutus, a word. (They whisper.

CASCA.
If Brutus will but join,
Our Fabrick's firm, and nothing then can shake it:
He is the Cement that must hold us fast.

BRUTUS.
Well, noble Lords, I am at last resolv'd;
Ev'n against Friendship Justice has prevail'd.
Give me your resolute Hands.

CASSIUS.
And let us swear.

BRUTUS.
No Oath: the Cause already is so sacred,
There is no need of Oaths to make it more:
If sense of Slavery, and noble Shame,
If Thirst of honest Fame in after Ages,

If glorious Justice cannot move our Souls,
They are too weak for such a Deed as this;
Break off betimes, and every Roman here
Retire with Blushes to his idle Bed;
And then let Tyranny for ever range,
Till each Man falls unpity'd: but if these,
(As who dares make a doubt) are noble Romans;
What needs a Tye among us but our Words?
Plain Honesty to Honesty engag'd,
That Cæsar shall not live to laugh at Cowards.
Let Priests, and Women swear, and feeble Minds,
Which, wav'ring still, need such a Childish check:
We are above such helps, and steady bear
Our even Souls, without one doubtful start.
What Roman dares be base in such a business?
Reckon his Guilt, and Shame, he ventures more
Than if he did attempt ten Thousand Tyrants.

CASSIUS.
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
His Gravity will countenance our Heat.

TREBONIUS.
No need of that, now Brutus is engag'd.

BRUTUS.
I know him well, believe him just and wise;
Yet Vanity a little clouds his Virtue:
Nor is he bold enough for such a Business.
The Horse that starts, however good besides,
In War is troublesome, nay dangerous.

DECIUS BRUTUS.
But Antony, so well belov'd by Cæsar,
That Instrument of all his Tyranny,
If he survive, will be another Cæsar.

TREBONIUS.
Decius, well urg'd; Antonius must dye.

BRUTUS.
O, by no means, our course will seem too bloody,
To cut the Head off, and then hack the Limbs:
'Twill look like Anger, nay like Envy too;
For, Antony is great by Cæsar's Favour;

Let us be Sacrificers, but not Butchers.
We only draw our Swords against Ambition;
Not against Cæsar's Person, but his Power:
Oh that we, then, could come at Cæsar's Spirit,
Abate his Pride, and yet not spill his Blood! (Sighs.
It cannot be; Cæsar alas must bleed.
Yet, gentle Friends!
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's serve him up, a Dish fit for the Gods;
Not mangled, as a Feast to Beasts of Prey.
Our Hearts should melt, like those of tender Parents,
Who oft in sharp, but necessary Rage,
Correct offending Children with Remorse,
Feeling more pain than what they make them suffer.
This Mercy too looks better to the World.
Which shall not call us Murderers, but Heroes.
As for Antonius therefore, think not of him;
For he can do no more, than Cæsar's Arm,
When Cæsar's Head is off.

TREBONIUS.
But yet I fear him:
For he loves Cæsar, and is most audacious.

BRUTUS.
I hope that loving Cæsar is no Fault;
Else I confess that I am guilty too:
If he loves Cæsar, all that he can do
Is to be griev'd, and pine away for Cæsar:
And it were strange he should; for he is given
Too much to Wildness, Company, and Pleasures.

CASSIUS.
There is no fear of him; let him not dye;
For he will live and laugh at this hereafter.

DECIMUS BRUTUS.
But hold, how late's the Night?

BRUTUS.
'Tis five, at least.

CASSIUS.
O how I long to welcome the Eighth Hour,

The wish'd Alarm to our great purposes!

DECIMUS BRUTUS.
'Tis time to part, least at our several Homes
We should be miss'd too long.

CASSIUS.
But what if Cæsar
Should forbear coming to the Capitol?
The unaccustom'd Terror of this Night
May move the Augurs to forbid his going:
And, tho' himself's above such idle Fears,
Yet the most wise and brave must yield to Custom.

DECIMUS BRUTUS.
Never doubt that: And tho' he were resolved,
I can o'er-sway him; for he loves to hear me.
Prudence, tho' much superior, often yields
To subtle Mirth, and sly Insinuation.
If Cæsar stay at home because it thunders,
I can in jest reproach him with his fear;
He'll laugh, yet fear he shall be thought afraid.

BRUTUS.
Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
But see, 'tis almost Day; some light appears.

CASSIUS.
Then let us be dispers'd, like foggy Clouds,
To meet again in Thunder.

BRUTUS.
Friends, farewell.
Only remember that we all are Romans;
That thought will keep up our exalted Spirits Exeunt Conspirators, Manet Brutus. SCENE III. Enter Portia undress'd, as new risen from Bed.

PORTIA.
Brutus! my Lord, where are you?

BRUTUS.
What, my Portia?
Why do you thus expose your tender health?

PORTIA.
Can I consider Health, without your Love?
You have unkindly stol'n from me to Night,
And by your Absence robb'd me of my Rest:
How could my Brutus thus ungently leave
One so unwilling to be left by you?

BRUTUS.
  Chide not too much, my Portia; and yet
There is some pleasure to be chid so kindly.
Our Sex has tenderness equal to yours;
Yet we, incumbred with vexatious Cares,
No sooner bend our softer Thoughts to Love,
But Business, like a Master too severe,
Stands hov'ring over us amidst our Pleasure,
And drags us to our tiresome Task again.

PORTIA.
But Life is short; O why should we mispend it?
A Wretch condemn'd to dye within few hours,
Would think them ill employ'd in Complements:

The solemn Trifles of a busy World
Are oft but Complement, compar'd with Love,
Whose short and precious hours you throw away.

BRUTUS.
Dear Portia, now you but disturb my Thoughts.

PORTIA.
Can mine be easy then? 'tis no small thing
Can vex your even Mind, and make you froward,
Froward with me, which you was ne'er till now:
This Night I folded you within these Arms,
And ask'd you if you slept, if you were well?
You said, you could not sleep, and yet turn'd from me.

BRUTUS.
Turning from thee is Restlesness indeed;
Thou only Comfort to my troubled Mind!
May Joys, and full Content remain in yours.

PORTIA.
Oh, preach Content to one upon a Rack,
And he will hear as soon.

My Soul is so perplex'd with Fears for you,
That all the Joys of Nature, or of Fortune,
Could find no entrance here at such a time.

BRUTUS.
Retire, retire; talking so tenderly,
You, like officious and condoling Friends,
But more afflict that Mind you would compose.
I hope you think me neither false nor foolish;
If it were fit for you to know my Cares,
'Twere ill in me to let you ask me twice:
Let that suffice, and leave me; 'tis a word,
I never us'd to thee before.

PORTIA.
Alas!
You would not use it now, if still you lov'd.
Can you have thoughts unfit to own to me?
You are unjust, and I undone, farewel.

BRUTUS.
What means my Portia?

PORTIA.
Brutus unjust!
Oh, 'tis a Wonder, which your very Foes
Would not believe, tho' told it by your Friends:
And to me too, who had least cause to fear it!
So little I deserv'd to find him so.
Am I but only Partner of your Pleasures?
Fit for your trifling Hours, and to be kept
At hateful distance from your nobler Thoughts?
What is it I have innocently done,
To lose that Trust, which always follows Kindness.
And therefore yours is chang'd; I see it plainly:
Thunder is fall'n on my poor guiltless Head, (Weeps.
And all but I, perhaps, have heard the Blow.

BRUTUS.
In this you wrong me Portia.

PORTIA.
Would I did:
I never wish'd a Wrong to you before.

BRUTUS
How have I liv'd, and which of all my Actions
Has giv'n the least occasion ev'n for Malice?
I am, you know, not like the rest of Husbands;
My Promise and my Vows are Tyes to me,
As strong as Fame and Virtue are to you:
I will not mention now the Bands of Love,
In which I thought we were for ever fix'd.
What these unjust Suspicions may produce
Either in you or me, alas, I know not.
Therefore be calm and kind, as thou art us'd,
And try such rough ungentle ways no more.
My Mind, you know, hardens against Compulsion,
But easily bends under gentle Usage.

PORTIA.
O let me now try that soft way again.
Thus low, thus tenderly, I beg to know (Falls on his Neck.
That which, in troubling you, ev'n tortures me.
Shunn'd as I am, I have a share in all

Your Resolutions, spite of your Unkindness.
You cannot shut me out from tender cares
For every thought of yours: that zealous part
The meanest Slave may have in mighty Cæsar,
And yet give no offence.

BRUTUS.
The mighty Cæsar!
I am that meanest Slave, if he remain (Apart.
The mighty Cæsar. Kneel not, gentle Portia.

PORTIA.
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. (Weeps.

BRUTUS.
O my soft Heart! my Resolution's arm'd
Against all Dangers, nay, against my Friend;
Yet firm to all things else, it yields to Love; (Takes her in his Arms.
It yields to Portia. You are now too charming.
For pity hide your Kindness, or your Beauty;
There's no resisting both.

PORTIA.
'Tis Kindness only
Which makes me wish I had that Beauty too
But are you, then, not angry?

BRUTUS.
What, with thee?
The most obdurate Creature, ev'n a Tyrant,
In all his height of Anger, and of Pride,
Could not be proof against one Tear of thine. (Kisses her.
O Portia, be not you that Tyrant then;
For well you know your Pow'r, and may be mine.

PORTIA.
But tell me all.

BRUTUS.
Then, know that they who came to me this Night—
But why shou'd I go on to thee, my Portia,
In any Language but in that of Love?
Tis to profane thy Ear, to entertain it

With any harsher sound; spare then thy self.

PORTIA.
But you were just about to let me know.

BRUTUS.
Know what? know things that will but trouble thee?
Believe me, Portia, 'tis dangerous
For thee to tread in these obscurer Paths;
Serpents lye hidden there, whose conscious Sting
Will rob thee of thy rest.
Oh, press not thus to bear a part in that,
Which with its weight will crush thy tender Mind.

PORTIA.
I am a Woman, but am Cato's Daughter.
My Heart is tender, but to Brutus only.
Think you 'tis nothing, to have such a Father,
And such a Husband?

BRUTUS.
Well then, hear it all.

PORTIA.
Hold, dearest Brutus!
I dare not hear it yet; I'll try this first. She stabs her self in the Arm.

BRUTUS.
Hold, what d'ye mean?

PORTIA.
To try my Fortitude.
For tho' I durst have trusted my firm Mind
With any thing which but concern'd my self;
Where you're engag'd, it was too great a venture:
I doubt my firmest thoughts, while you suspect them.

BRUTUS.
Oh, Wonder of thy Sex!
Gods! make me worthy of this matchless Woman!
Haste, haste, and let thy Wound be quickly dress'd.
Within I'll tell thee all,
And in thy Bosom pour my very Soul. Exit Porcia.

Enter Lucius.

LUCIUS.
A Messenger, my Lord, from mighty Cæsar
Is sent to summon you, and Caius Cassius,
About some weighty matter presently. (Exit Lucius.

BRUTUS.
From Cæsar? and my Brother Cassius too?
An early Summons this! We are betray'd,
Lost and undone, yet less in our own ruin,
Than in the letting him escape. Oh Rome,
Thou hast in vain depended on thy Brutus!
But I will go, lest my delaying now
Should raise Suspicion; and if all's discover'd,
My Life is useless, and not worth my Care. (Exeunt.

Between the second and third Act, these Verses are to be sung by a Person representing the Genius of Rome. Second CHORUS.
Lo, to prevent this mighty Empire's Doom,
From bright unknown Abodes of Bliss I come,
The awful Genius of Majestick Rome.
Great is her Danger: but I will engage
Some few, the Master-Souls of all this Age,
To do an Act of just Heroic Rage.
'Tis hard, a Man so great, should fall so low;
More hard, to let so brave a People bow
To one themselves have rais'd, who scorns them now.

Yet oh, I grieve, that Brutus should be stain'd;
Whose Life, excepting this one Act, remain'd
So pure, that future times will think it feign'd.
But only he can make the rest combine;
The very Life, and Soul of their Design;
The Centre, where those mighty Spirits join.
Unthinking Men no sort of Scruples make;
Others do ill, only for Mischief's sake;
But ev'n the best are guilty by Mistake.
Thus some, for Envy, or Revenge, intend
To bring the bold Usurper to his end;
But for his Country, Brutus stabs his Friend.

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