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Alexander Pope [1723], [The tragedy of Julius Cæsar, altered: With a Prologue and Chorus; By His Grace, John Duke of Buckingham, in] The works of John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, Marquis of Normanby, and Duke of Buckingham (Printed by John Barber, Alderman of London, London) [word count] [S39101].
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SCENE VI. Enter Antony.


What, Antony, who revels all the Night,
Is he up too? Nay, then 'tis time to go.

ANTONY.
Rather to stay: I came not here in Courtship.
But 'tis the sacred College of the Priests

-- 281 --


Which brought me hither; and they wait without.
Hear 'em, Great Cæsar; it concerns you nearly,
And what does so is for the Good of Rome.

CÆSAR.
The Senate stays, another time will serve.
(As he is going out, enter the Priests who stop him.

PRIEST.
Great Cæsar, hail! Forgive our zealous haste,
Urg'd by Divine Portent which sent us here,
To warn the mighty Ruler of the World.

CÆSAR.
Speak: I attend the Message of the Gods.

PRIEST.
As on Mount Aventine I lately sate,
Attir'd with sacred Robes, and Southward turn'd;
The Heav'ns all clear, and free from black Presage:
With my bent Wand I the due Rites perform'd,
And parted all the Regions of the Air.
When lo, ill-boding Birds appear'd from far,

-- 282 --


Bearing Misfortunes on their ominous Wings:
I gaz'd upon them with Prophetick skill,
Till a fierce flash of Lightning check'd my Sight.
Then, in one instant, all the Heav'ns were chang'd;
Clouds, swell'd with Thunder, rowl'd themselves along,
With noise too horrible for humane Ear.

CÆSAR.
It thunder'd, and it lighten'd: well, go on.

SECOND PRIEST.
Omens of ill in several kinds agree:
Having new chose for solemn Sacrifice
A large-grown Bull, the goodliest of the Herd;
With an unwonted Rage he breaks his Chains,
Making fierce way through all the frighten'd Crowd,
Which gaz'd, and trembled; so divided stood
Betwixt their Curiosity and Fear:
At last, he at the Altar laid him down,
And seem'd to beg the Blow, which none durst give;
Then on a sudden shook the Air like Thunder;

-- 283 --


And with unheard of Bellowing breath'd his last.
When open'd, we beheld with Eyes amaz'd
This boist'rous Beast that rag'd with so much clamour,
Yet had no Heart.

CÆSAR.
And I should seem like him,
Did I give way to every idle Fear.

PRIEST.
Is it an idle thing to fear the Gods?
Thou 'rt in their Power, as the World in thine;
And each may own a Fear without a Blush.

ANTONY.
Good Cæsar be advis'd: in this one thing
Yield to your Friends, and send the Senate word
You are not well.

CÆSAR.
What, send 'em an Excuse?
Have I in Conquest stretch'd my Arm so far,
And fear at last to tell Grey-beards the Truth?

-- 284 --


No, Antony, Truth will bear out it self.
I would do much to give my Friends Content;
So, let them know I shall not come to day;
Cannot, is false, and, that I dare not, falser.
I will not come: Go tell it to the Senate. (To Decius Brutus.

DECIUS BRUTUS.
But shall not I pretend some Cause for this?

CÆSAR.
The Cause is in my Will. I will not go.
That is enough to satisfy the Senate.

DECIUS BRUTUS.
Sir, I obey; but pardon my Affection,
If it offends you with untimely Care:
The Senate is resolv'd to give a Crown
This day to mighty Cæsar: Who can tell,
But by to morrow their loose Minds may change?
Assemblies are uncertain as the Sea,
Which ebbs and flows, now rises, and now falls,

-- 285 --


Just as the hum'rous Wind inclines to move.
No Woman changes more than Crowds of Men.

CÆSAR.
How weak your Fears seem now, good Antony!
I must not let the fair occasion fall.
Prepare the Ceremony, I am stay'd for.

BRUTUS.
Prudence in vain defends unhappy Men:
When Heav'n ordains, the Wisest haste to Ruin.
(Exeunt Omnes

-- 286 --


To be sung after the Third Act, by two Aerial Spirits. Third CHORUS

I.
Tell, oh tell me, whence arise
These Disorders in our Skies?
Rome's great Genius wildly gaz'd
And the Gods seem all amaz'd.

II.
Know, in sight of this Day's Sun,
Such a Deed is to be done,
Black enough to shroud the Light
Of all this World in dismal Night.

-- 287 --

I.
What is this Deed?

II.
To kill a Man,
The Greatest since Mankind began:
Learned, eloquent and wise,
  Gen'rous, merciful and brave!

I.
Yet not too great a Sacrifice,
  The Liberty of Rome to save?

II.
But will not Goodness claim Regard?
And does not Worth deserve Reward?

I.
Does not their Country lye at stake?
Can they do too much for her sake?

-- 288 --

Both together.
Tho' dreadful be this Doom of Fate,
  Just is that Pow'r which governs all:
  Better this wond'rous Man should fall,
Than a most glorious, virtuous State.

[unresolved image link]

-- 289 --

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Alexander Pope [1723], [The tragedy of Julius Cæsar, altered: With a Prologue and Chorus; By His Grace, John Duke of Buckingham, in] The works of John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, Marquis of Normanby, and Duke of Buckingham (Printed by John Barber, Alderman of London, London) [word count] [S39101].
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