And looks all pale, with lofs of guiltless Blood!
Who has not loft a Kinsman, or a Friend,

Whose honeft Life the War has facrific'd
To this Man's wild Ambition?

Nay, are not you dead too? fince in his Power
To kill you when he pleases? with this diff'rence;
That Death, once come, frees ye from all its Force,
Which every Hour ye now expect with Terror.
Before this fatal Time each good Man here

Was Master of the World, and fhar'd the Power;
Kings waited on your Votes, and watch'd your Wills:
But now (I weep to say how fad a Change !)

The Greatness, nay the Goodness of this CÆSAR, Is founded on our Baseness: For, alas!

What must we be, to be forgiv'n by him?

And do you think, because he gives you Pleasures, Treats with Shows, and popular Appearance, That all this seeming Softnefs is not Shadow?

you

A very Trick to lull your Thoughts asleep,

And then fubject them? make them mild, and tame,
Fit for the fervile ufe of being Subjects?

Those lofty Thoughts, which like true mettled Hawks
Were us'd to fly so strong, and foar so high,
Which Nature has defign'd to prey on Tyrants,
And not to ferve them; now are whiftled off
With every Pageant Pomp, and gawdy Show.

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For fhame, repent of such a childish Folly ;
And rather tear, like CATO, your own Bowels,
Than live to fee your Country torn by Tyrants.
CASCA.

And POMPEY too, methinks, fhould be remember'd, Who died for you fo lately; on whose Ruin

This CÆSAR ftands, and scorns us all beneath him.

TREBONIUS.

See if they are not mov'd; the Roman Soul
Now fwells within them. Go, my worthy Friends
And, if you needs will fee your Tyrant's Triumph,
Gaze on him then with angry envious Eyes:
Be every one a Bafilisk to him

Kill him with staring.

1 CITIZEN.

Farewel worthy Lords!

You love your Country, and we love you for it.

TREBONIUS.

Shall we not be accus'd for this?

CASCA.

No matter;

We break no Laws either of Gods or Men:

So, if we fall, it is with Reputation;

A Fate which Cowards fhun, and brave Men seek. If CESAR punish Men for fpeaking Truth,

My

My honest Tongue shall dare his utmost Doom. But here he comes, with all that Pomp and Pride In which young Power so childishly delights.

SCENE III.

Enter CESAR attended by ANTONY, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and many other Senators: Sits down in a magnificent Seat, to behold feveral Divertise ments after the Roman manner. When the Sports are ended, ANTONY prefents him a Crown.

ANTONIUS.

Hail, mighty Man! thou Godlike CÆSAR, hail!
Stoop to our Wishes, and vouchsafe to wear
This Crown, prefented thee by all Mankind :
Shine on us, like the Sun, in your full Luftre ;
While Rome reviv'd lies basking in your Beams,
And flourishes beneath that kindly Heat.
Adorn us with your Pow'r, and make us proud
Of being Subjects to fo great a King.

CESAR.

I am not call'd your King, but your Dictator;

[CASAR defcends from his Seat to the middle of the Stage.

A Name, I hope, that bears as great a Sound;

If not, 'tis no vain Titles that can help it:
Therefore I both refuse, and flight a Crown,

[He puts back the Crown with his Hand, at which the People shout for Joy. -Which can add nothing to my Power, or Rome's. I'm glad, my Friends, you are so easily pleas'd With my refufing what I think below me ; Were it above me, Ifhould quickly reach it. Your Kings, it seems, exerted Power so ill, That you expell'd the hated Name for ever. But 'tis the Tyranny, not Name, ye fear; And that my Soul abhors, as much as you. Witness, ye Gods, I have no other Aim

Than to advance your Good, and my own Honour.

ANTONIUS.

Take then this Crown, which feems fo much for

both;

[Offering the Crown once more.

For Pow'r well plac'd, can never be too great.

CESAR.

Again! this needs not; 'tis unfeemly Joy;

[CÆSAR refufes it, and they shout
a fecond time.

It looks as if you doubted me before,
And are furpriz'd to find my Moderation.

ANTONIUS.

'Tis I, Sir, am furpriz'd; but 'tis with Grief,

[He offers the Crown the third time. To see you fhun a Pow'r, you ought to seek ; At least, reject it not with fuch Irreverence; Crowns are the fairest Prefents of the Gods.

Again!

CESAR.

[He refufes it again, and they fhout the third time.

Peace, you unmannerly, unthinking Crowd!

Are you fo pleas'd? and have I no way left

But this, to be as popular as POMPEY?

How have I us'd my Pow'r, that you should fear it?
Then, to be more secure, here take my Life;
I freely offer it to every Roman:

Let out that Blood, you think boils with Ambition,
I'd rather lofe it, than out-live my Fame;

Nor wou'd accept of Pow'r, unless to please.

I feel their Pulfes, and I find them beat

[To ANTONY afide.

Fev'rish, and high, unfit for my Designs:
Their Reafon loft, they rave for Liberty,
Like Lunaticks, confin'd for their own good,

Strive for a fatal Freedom to be ruin'd.

AN