BRUTUS.
Ye worthy few, who with unusual Faith
Quit not a Friend whom Fortune has forsaken;

Rest your tir'd Bodies on this Bank a while:
Where like a shipwreck'd Merchant I appear,
Gath'ring the dear Remains of my lost Fortunes.

OFFICER.
Oh, who can judge the Councils of the Gods? (They all sit down.
Behold the best of Men is made a Prey
To boundless Wildness, and unjust Ambition.

BRUTUS.
That wild Ambition but too often prospers:
Yet sure the Gods know better far than we,
How to dispose the ruling of Mankind.
If they will have (which yet seems wondrous strange)
Injustice to succeed, and Virtue suffer;
Our Part is only to submit with Reverence.
'Tis time, 'tis time that Rome should be at rest.

FIRST OFFICER. (He whispers each of them.
Not for the World.

SECOND OFFICER.
The mighty Gods forbid!

THIRD OFFICER.
May my Hand wither first!

FIRST OFFICER.
What did he whisper?

THIRD OFFICER.
He earnestly intreated me to kill him.

FIRST OFFICER.
He mov'd the same to me.

TITINIUS.
How is that noble Soul o'erwhelm'd with Anguish,
Not for his own, but for his Country's Ruin!

BRUTUS.
Romans, for shame shew not such childish Pity.
Think you I am so fond of painful Life, (He rises hastily.
That my faint Hand should tremble at my Cure?
Why then refuse to do this last good Office,

Which I, for want of Friends must do my self.
Nay, if my Life could yet but serve my Country,
Tho rack'd with Griefs, the very hopes of that,
Would, like strong Cordials, force me to endure it.
But lawless Empire rules! what then remains
But Death, or worse than Death, ignoble Bondage?
Which if my Soul can ne'er submit to bear,
Pardon, good Heav'n, my not enduring Life
On such a hard Condition!—Sacred Virtue!
Thou Deity that all the Good adore!
Why hast thou cast me off, and giv'n Success
To thy own Foes, and mine? I follow'd thee
Ev'n through the Blood of Cæsar, whom I lov'd,
And who lov'd me; Ye Pow'rs immortal! know
With what a heavy Heart and troubled Mind,
I help'd my Country by so harsh a Means:
But I most gladly make thee this amends— (Cæsar's Ghost appears and vanishes.
Oh Cæsar, Cæsar! Therefore rest appeas'd;
I did not kill thee half so willingly. (Kills himself.

Enter Antony, Dolabella, Ventidius, &c.

ANTONY.
The Blow is giv'n, and we are come too late. A great Shout of Soldiers bringing in Lucilius.

SOLDIER.
Rewards, and Triumph! we have brought you Brutus.

LUCILIUS.
No, Antony: the Gods forbid that Brutus
Should ever be a Prisoner! by assuming
His Name, I here have stopp'd their hot Pursuit.

ANTONY.
This is not Brutus, but a worthy Prize:
For ye have brought a Friend, and not a Foe.
Youth, I admire thy Virtue; be to me,
As thou hast been to him who now lies there. Lucilius starts, sees the Body of Brutus, and kneels down by it.
Oh Brutus, I am robb'd of half my Triumph;

To thy most gen'rous Soul I ow'd my Life,
And fain I would have taken kind Revenge;
For, 'tis a Debt, lies heavy on me now.
Rise, worthy Roman, do not mourn in vain. (Lucilius rises.

LUCILIUS.
Yield, all ye Heroes of immortal Name,
Whose shining Mischiefs only raise your Fame.
If publick Virtue well be understood,
Here lies the Greatest Man that e'er was Good.

DOLABELLA.
Yet the just Gods a righteous Judgment send;
He lov'd his Country, but he kill'd his Friend.

Previous section