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Alexander Pope [1723], [The tragedy of Marcus Brutus: With the prologue and the Two Last chorus's. Written 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] [S39102].
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SCENE IV. Enter Lucilius and Titinius.

CASSIUS.
Come in Lucilius, welcome good Titinius.
Let us consult of our Necessities,
And manage well this last important Stake.

BRUTUS.
The State is thus at Rome: My Letter mentions
Full fifty Senators, with thousands more,
Newly proscrib'd; and Cicero is one.

CASSIUS.
Cicero one? that talking Friend of Cæsar?

-- 422 --


Octavius has well paid him for his pains;
May ill Men ever use each other so.

BRUTUS.
Oh gently censure ev'n a Foe when dead.
See, Cassius, here the Curse of over-caution.
The wary Walker who mistrusts too much,
Treads not so firm, but faintly, and so stumbles:
Thus Tully fell, by too much fear of falling.

CASSIUS.
But Antony, and young Octavius
Are marching hither with a mighty Force:
The useless Lepidus is left at Rome.

BRUTUS.
The question is, whether we had not best
Haste on, with Anger bent against our Foes,
Rather than tamely wait their bold Assault.

CASSIUS.
I am for staying here: my Reason this.
So long a March must weary out our Strength,

-- 423 --


Which Rest will give us here. Let them come on,
And tir'd with Toil expose their bending Bodies
Under our lusty Arms, vig'rous and fresh:
Besides, in this we take the stoutest part;
For, resolute expecting certain Danger
Shews the most settled Courage; while the Coward
Runs often fiercely on, to shun his Fear,
And swallow down in haste the bitter Draught.

BRUTUS.
Some Reasons have a strange fallacious Force;
Just as the pleasing Colours us'd by Artists
Delude the very Sight. But in my Judgment,
It tires our Army more to tarry here.
Opinion is the Soul of every Action;
Keep but that up, that keeps up all the rest:
And 'tis maintain'd by marks of Resolution,
By rushing on the Foe, forcing to fight,
Not lingring here behind with slacken'd Vigour.
We must depend upon our Zeal and Cause,

-- 424 --


And therefore in hot Blood shall do it best.
If once we cool, their surer Discipline
Will soon prevail against our new-rais'd Force.
The Hearts of all our Soldiers now are set
On fierce encountring, all their Rage inflam'd;
There's nothing wanting but to draw their Swords,
And down goes Tyranny, to rise no more.
Can we sit still, and pause with such a Thought?
So near a glorious Deed there's no Repose:
Impatience makes unquiet Expectation,
And eager Nature can allow no Rest.

CASSIUS.
You shall prevail; we'll let 'em but refresh,
And then we'll charge the Foe.

BRUTUS.
Let us embrace; and, O my dearest Brother,
This Quarrel shall but make us better Friends.

-- 425 --


Fourth CHORUS. Of Roman Soldiers.
Our Vows thus chearfully we sing,
  While martial Musick fires our Blood
Let all the neighb'ring Echoes ring
  With Clamours for our Country's Good:

And, for Reward, of the just Gods we claim
A Life with Freedom, or a Death with Fame.

May Rome be freed from War's Alarms,
  And Taxes heavy to be born;
May she beware of foreign Arms,
  And send them back with noble Scorn:

And, for Reward, &c.

-- 426 --


May she no more confide in Friends,
  Who nothing farther understood,
Than only, for their private ends,
  To waste her Wealth, and spill her Blood.

And, for Reward, &c.

Our Senators great Jove restrain
  From private Piques, they Prudence call;
From the low Thoughts of little Gain,
  And hazarding the losing all.

And, for Reward, &c.

The shining Arms with haste prepare,
  Then to the glorious Combat fly;
Our Minds unclog'd with farther Care,
  Except to overcome, or dye.

And, for Reward, &c.

-- 427 --


They fight, Oppression to increase;
  We, for our Liberties and Laws:
It were a Sin to doubt Success,
  When Freedom is the noble Cause.

And, for Reward, of the just Gods we claim
A Life with Freedom, or a Death with Fame.

[unresolved image link]

-- 428 --

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Alexander Pope [1723], [The tragedy of Marcus Brutus: With the prologue and the Two Last chorus's. Written 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] [S39102].
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