LICTOR.
We have discovered here Theodotus,
Odious to all Mankind for Pompey's Death.

JUNIA.
What, he that made a formal Speech for Murder?
And with a Philosophick Gravity
Sanctify'd Mischief with a rev'rend Tongue?
The Orator wants Words in his own Cause.

BRUTUS.
Speak for thy self; that Justice thou shalt have.

THEODOTUS.
Had I not often own'd my Crime with Tears,
So self-condemn'd already; or if Brutus
Were not my Judge, the good, the faultless Brutus;
Black tho' I now appear, and all disfigur'd

With common Prejudice; yet I might give
Fair colour to this hated, foul Offence.
But who can stand the Test of strictest Justice?
Or how can words avail to sway the Wise?
This Wisdom and this Justice are in Brutus:
So much superior thou to other Men,
That at thy Judgment-seat, the greatest Art
Is useless to excuse the smallest Fault.

BRUTUS.
Say boldly all thou can'st.

THEODOTUS.
Else, I might say, 'tis hard to be condemn'd
For doing that, which if I had not done,
I might have justly been condemn'd by those
Who summon'd me to Council for their Safety.
I thought their Safety ask'd for Pompey's Death:
Oh that I could redeem it with my own!
Pompey was great, was good, was wise, was valiant,
But yet was vanquish'd by more happy Cæsar;

Who, had his Foe been spar'd, would soon have shewn
A real Rage, which now he but affected.
Could Egypt stop the Victor of Pharsalia?
All we could give was but a poor Reprieve,
A hardship worse than Death to Minds resolv'd.
Rome and her Liberty entirely lost,
Pompey would have disdain'd a Life precarious,
Which yet had cost our King and Country dear.
Would he had counsell'd, and would I had dy'd!
For he, who as a Roman, dy'd for Rome;
If born with us, would have advis'd for Egypt

JUNIA.
With all thy Guilt, how durst thou name great Pompey

THEODOTUS.
Ev'n he was guilty once, and slew your Father.
Yet, grant he was the bravest, best of Men,
Victorious often in the Cause of Rome,
While I was but a Counsellor for Egypt.
Since Fame rewards his Service to his Country,

Should I be punish'd for assisting mine?

BRUTUS.
If Words could change the nature of ill Deeds,
Thy Head would be indebted to thy Tongue,
Which, I must needs allow, has done its part,
And makes my tender Nature wish thee hence,
Out of my Reach, as well as Will, to punish.
But here I stand the Substitute of Rome;
Which with united Sighs bemoans her Pompey,
And weeping waits to have his Death reveng'd.
Thy worthless Prince and Country were too slight
A Sacrifice to Pompey! At his Feet
Cæsar himself was not too great to fall:
Think but on that, and thou wilt dye content. (Exeunt Lucilius and Officers with Theodotus.
'Twere barbarous to reason with a Wretch
Long since condemn'd to dye by Rome's Decree.
But he was no Egyptian, as he pleaded;
Nor subject to that Prince he so advis'd.

JUNIA.
What King or Country dares be so audacious
To hurt the meanest Senator of Rome?
How then durst any think of killing Pompey?

BRUTUS.
Presumptuous Wickedness! Pompey o'ercome,
Abandon'd by his Friends, a Fugitive,
At mercy of the meanest, basest Villain;
Yet in that lowest Ebb was much too high
For such a Prince as Ptolemy to reach.
From Ptolemy, prostrate at Pompey's Feet,
Not only Aid, but Reverence was due.
That Chief escaping, might have chang'd Rome's Fate;
And the whole World had been oblig'd to Egypt.

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