ACT IV.

Previous
Robert Dodsley

Cassius, Decimus Brutus.

[Exit.


Enter CÆsar and Mark Antony.

CÆsar. O Rome, that with thy pride dost overpeer
 The worthiest cities of the conquer'd world;
 Whose honour, got by famous victories,
 Hath filled heaven's fiery vaults with frightful horror!
 O lofty towers! O stately battlements!
 O glorious temples! O proud palaces!
 And you brave walls, bright heaven's masonry,
 Grac'd with a thousand kingly diadems!
 Are ye not stirred with a strange delight,
 To see your CÆsar's matchless victories?
 And how your empire and your praise begins
 Through fame, which he of stranger nations wins?
 O beauteous Tiber, with thine easy streams,
 That glide as smoothly as a Parthian shaft!
 Turn not thy crispy[366] tides like silver curl,
 Back to thy grass-green banks to welcome us;
 And with a gentle murmur haste to tell
 The foaming seas the honour of our fight?
 Trudge not thy streams to Triton's mariners,
 To bruit the praises of our conquest past?
 And make their vaunts to old Oceanus,
 That henceforth Tiber shall salute the seas,
 More fam'd than Tiger or fair Euphrates?
 Now all the world (well-nigh) doth stoop to Rome:
 The sea, the earth, and all is almost ours.
 Be't, where the bright sun with his neighbour beams
 Doth early light the pearled Indians,
 Or where his chariot stays to stop the day,
 Till heaven unlock the darkness of the night.
 Be't, where the sea is wrapt in crystal ice,
 Or where the summer doth but warm the earth.
 Or here, or there, where is not Rome renown'd?
 There lives no king (how great soe'er he be)
 But trembleth if he once but hear of me.
 CÆsar is now earth's fame and Fortune's terror,
 And CÆsar's worth hath stain'd old soldiers' praises.
 Rome, speak no more of either Scipio,
 Nor of the Fabii, or Fabricians;
 Here let the Decii and their glory die.
 CÆsar hath tam'd more nations, ta'en more towns,
 And fought more battles than the best of them.
 CÆsar doth triumph over all the world,
 And all they scarcely conquered a nook.
 The Gauls, that came to Tiber to carouse,
 Did live to see my soldiers drink at Loire;
 And those brave Germans, true-born martialists,
 Beheld the swift Rhine under-run mine ensigns.
 The Britons (lock'd within a wat'ry realm,
 And wall'd by Neptune) stoop'd to me at last.
 The faithless Moor, the fierce Numidian,
 Th' earth that the Euxine sea makes sometimes marsh,
 The stony-hearted people that inhabit,
 Where sevenfold Nilus doth disgorge itself,
 Have all been urg'd to yield to my command;
 Yea, even this city, that hath almost made
 An universal conquest of the world;
 And that brave warrior, my brother-in-law,
 That (ill-advis'd) repined at my glory:
 Pompey, that second Mars, whose haught'[367] renown
 And noble deeds were greater than his fortunes,
 Prov'd to his loss, but even in one assault
 My hand, my hap, my heart exceeded his,
 When the Thessalian fields were purpled o'er
 With either army's murder'd soldiers' gore;
 When he, to conquering accustomed,
 Did conquered fly, his troops discomfited.
 Now Scipio, that long'd to show himself
 Descent of African (so fam'd for arms),
 He durst affront me and my warlike bands
 Upon the coasts of Libya, till he lost
 His scatter'd army, and to shun the scorn
 Of being taken captive, kill'd himself.
 Now therefore let us triumph, Antony;
 And, rend'ring thanks to Heaven as we go,
 For bridling those that did malign our glory,
 Let's to the Capitol.
Antony. Come on, brave CÆsar,
 And crown thy head and mount thy chariot.
 Th' impatient people run along the streets,
 And in a rout against thy gates they rush,
 To see their CÆsar after danger's past,
 Made conqueror and emperor at last.
CÆsar. I call to witness heaven's great Thunderer,
 That 'gainst my will I have maintain'd this war.
 Nor thirsted I for conquests bought with blood.
 I joy not in the death of citizens;
 But, through my self-will'd enemies' despite
 And Romans' wrong, was I constrain'd to fight.
Antony. They sought t' eclipse thy fame; but destiny
 Revers'd th' effect of their ambition;
 And CÆsar's praise increas'd by their disgrace,
 That reck'd not of his virtuous deeds. But thus
 We see it fareth with the envious.
CÆsar. I never had the thought to injure them.
 Howbeit I never meant my greatness should
 By any other's greatness be o'errul'd.
 For as I am inferior to none,
 So can I suffer no superiors.
Antony. Well, CÆsar, now they are discomfited,
 And crows are feasted with their carcases;
 And yet I fear you have too kindly sav'd
 Those, that your kindness hardly will requite.
CÆsar. Why, Antony, what would you wish me do?
 Now shall you see that they will pack to Spain,
 And, joined with the exiles there encamp'd,
 Until th' ill spirit, that doth them defend,
 Do bring their treasons to a bloody end.
Antony. I fear not those that to their weapons fly,
 And keep their state in Spain, in Spain to die.
CÆsar. Whom fear'st thou then, Mark Antony?
Antony. The hateful crew
 That, wanting power in field to conquer you,
 Have in their coward souls devised snares
 To murder thee, and take thee at unwares.
CÆsar. Will those conspire my death that live by me?
Antony. In conquer'd foes what credit can there be?
CÆsar. Besides their lives, I did their goods restore.
Antony. O, but their country's good concerns them more.
CÆsar. What, think they me to be their country's foe?
Antony. No, but that thou usurp'st the right they owe.[368]
CÆsar. To Rome have I submitted mighty things.
Antony. Yet Rome endures not the command of kings.
CÆsar. Who dares to contradict our empery?[369]
Antony. Those whom thy rule hath robb'd of liberty.
CÆsar. I fear them not, whose death is but deferr'd.
Antony. I fear my foe, until he be interr'd.
CÆsar. A man may make his foe his friend, you know.
Antony. A man may easier make his friend his foe.
CÆsar. Good deeds the cruel'st heart to kindness bring.
Antony. But resolution is a deadly thing.
CÆsar. If citizens my kindness have forgot,
 Whom shall I then not fear?
Antony. Those that are not.
CÆsar. What, shall I slay then all that I suspect?
Antony. Else cannot CÆsar empery endure.
CÆsar. Rather I will my life and all neglect.
 Nor labour I my vain life to assure;
 But so to die, as dying I may live,
 And, leaving off this earthly tomb of mine,
 Ascend to heaven upon my winged deeds.
 And shall I not have lived long enough,
 That in so short a time am so much fam'd?
 Can I too soon go taste Cocytus' flood?
 No, Antony, death cannot injure us,
 "For he lives long that dies victorious."
Antony. Thy praises show thy life is long enough,
 But for thy friends and country all too short.
 Should CÆsar live as long as Nestor did,
 Yet Rome may wish his life eternised.
CÆsar. Heaven sets our time; with heaven may nought dispense.
Antony. But we may shorten time with negligence.
CÆsar. But Fortune and the heavens have care of us.
Antony. Fortune is fickle, heaven imperious.
CÆsar. What shall I then do?
Antony. As befits your state;
 Maintain a watchful guard about your gate.
CÆsar. What more assurance may our state defend,
 Than love of those that do on us attend?
Antony. There is no hatred more, if it be mov'd,
 Than theirs whom we offend, and once belov'd.
CÆsar. Better it is to die than be suspicious.
Antony. 'Tis wisdom yet not to be credulous.
CÆsar. The quiet life, that carelessly is led,
 Is not alonely happy in this world;
 But death itself doth sometime pleasure us.
 That death, that comes unsent for or unseen,
 And suddenly doth take us at unware,
 Methinks is sweetest; and, if heaven were pleas'd,
 I could desire that I might die so well.
 The fear of evil doth afflict us more
 Than th' evil itself, though it be ne'er so sore.

[Exeunt.


A Chorus of CÆsar's Friends.

O fair sun, that gently smiles
 From the orient-pearled isles,
 Gilding these our gladsome days
 With the beauty of thy rays:
Free fro' rage of civil strife,
 Long preserve our CÆsar's life,
 That from sable Afric brings
 Conquests, whereof Europe rings.
And fair Venus, thou of whom
 The Æneades are come,
 Henceforth vary not thy grace
 From Iulus' happy race.
Rather cause thy dearest son,
 By his triumphs new-begun,
 To expel fro' forth the land
 Fierce war's quenchless firebrand.
That of care acquitting us
 (Who at last adore him thus),
 He a peaceful star appear,
 From our walls all foes to clear.
And so let his warlike brows
 Still be deck'd with laurel-boughs,
 And his statues newly set
 With many a fresh-flower'd coronet.
So in every place let be
 Feasts and masques, and mirthful glee,
 Strewing roses in the street,
 When their emperor they meet.
He his foes hath conquered,
 Never leaving till they fled,
 And (abhorring blood) at last
 Pardon'd all offences past.
"For high Jove the heavens among
 (Their support that suffer wrong)
 Doth oppose himself again'
 Bloody-minded, cruel men.
"For he shorteneth their days,
 Or prolongs them with dispraise:
 Or (his greater wrath to show)
 Gives them over to their foe."
CÆsar, a citizen so wrong'd
 Of the honour him belong'd,
 To defend himself from harms
 Was enforc'd to take up arms.
For he saw that envy's dart
 (Pricking still their poisoned heart.
 For his sudden glory got),
 Made his envious foe so hot.
Wicked envy, feeding still
 Foolish those that do thy will;
 For thy poisons in them pour
 Sundry passions every hour.
And to choler doth convert
 Purest blood about the heart.
 Which (o'erflowing of their breast)
 Suff'reth nothing to digest.
"Other men's prosperity
 Is their infelicity;
 And their choler then is rais'd,
 When they hear another prais'd..
"Neither Phoebus' fairest eye,
 Feasts nor friendly company:
 Mirth, or whatsoe'er it be,
 With their humour can agree.
"Day or night they never rest,
 Spiteful hate so pecks their breast.
 Pinching their perplexed lungs
 With her fiery poison'd tongues.
"Firebrands in their breasts they bear,
 As if Tisiphon were there.
 And their souls are pierc'd as sore
 As Prometheus' ghost, and more.
"Wretches, they are woe-begone,[370]
 For their wound is always one.
 Nor hath Charon power or skill
 To recure them of their ill." [Exit.

FOOTNOTES:

[364] In the former edition Mr Dodsley had substituted, instead of the words in the text, cry you ah me! The alteration was, however, entirely unnecessary. To cry aim, signified, as Dr Warburton observes, to consent to, or approve of anything. "The phrase was taken originally from archery. When any one had challenged another to shoot at the butts (the perpetual diversion, as well as exercise, of that time), the standers-by used to say one to the other, Cry aim, i.e., accept the challenge." See Dr Warburton's note on "Merry Wives of Windsor," act ii. sc. 3, where he has produced several examples of the use of the phrase. Dr Johnson says, "I once thought that it was borrowed from archery; and that aim! having been the word of command, as we now say, present! to cry aim had been to incite notice, or raise attention. But I rather think that the old word of applause was J'aime, I love it, and that to applaud was to cry J'aime, which the English, not easily pronouncing je, sunk into aime or aim." Mr Steevens is of opinion that Dr Johnson's first thought is best. See Notes on "King John," act ii. sc. 1. To the several instances produced by these gentlemen the following may be added:—Middleton and Rowley's "Fair Quarrel," act i. sc. 1—

"How now, gallants?
 Beleeve me, then, I must give aime no longer."

Beaumont and Fletcher's "False One," act v. sc. 4, edit. [Dyce, vi. 305]—

"By Venus, not a kiss
 'Till our work be done! The traitors once despatched,
 To it, and we'll cry aim."

It is remarkable that Mr Seward had made the same alteration in the last passage, and consequently fallen into the same mistake as Mr Dodsley had in the text.

[365] [Quell, or overcome.]

[366] Crispy is curling. So, in Shakespeare's "Henry IV.," act i. sc. 3—

"Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink,
 Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
 Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
 Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
 And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
 Blood-stained with these valiant combatants."

See Mr Steevens's note on this passage.

[367] This word is common to many writers. As, Shakespeare's "Third Part of Henry VI.," act ii. sc. 1—

"The proud, insulting queen,
 With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland."

See several examples in Mr Steevens's note on the last passage.

[368] That is, the right they own or possess. So, in the "Virgin Martyr," by Massinger and Decker, act ii. sc. 2—

"Sir, he is more indebted
 To you for praise, than you to him that owes it."

And in "Othello," act iii. sc. 3—

"Not poppy nor mandragora,
 Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
 Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep,
 Which thou ow'dst yesterday."

[369] [Empire.]

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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