BRUTUS.

Be not fo modeft, VARIUS, nor fo courtly;
BRUTUS is not your Mistress, but your Friend.
The Roman Virtue fhines fo bright in you,
Nothing is wanting to make up Perfection
But your Command o'er this unfruitful Paffion.
Love, ev'n when most successful, makes not happy.
Sometimes indeed, Pleasure beyond expreffion
Poffeffes all at once both Mind and Body,
Confounding Soul and Sense with height of Rapture
But what Allays o'erbalance all this Joy!
Frequent Disquiets, Doubts, and Jealoufies;
Sometimes the Pains of Absence, and sometimes
Amidft the Bliss, a dismal Dread to lose it.
At beft, the Pleasure is but intermitting,
While the uneafy Fever never ceases.
But Love, when flighted, is intolerable:
Who courts the fairest Tyrant, is a Fool,
And lives a Martyr in the meanest Cause.

VARIUS.

Enough, enough, I am already cur'd,
At least till JUNIA is beheld again.

BRUTUS.

'Tis half a Cure in Love to wish for one.

Give me your Hand, you'll march with me to-morrow; Where you will drown your Sighs in Sounds of War,

And

And turn your tend'reft Thoughts on your poor

Country.

[Exeunt BRUTUS and VARIUS.

Second CHORUS,

Of Athenian Youths and Virgins. By Mr. POPE.

YOUTHS.

Tyrant Love! haft thou possest

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous Breast? Wisdom and Wit in vain reclaim,

And Arts but foften us to feel thy Flame.

VARIUS with Blushes owns he loves,
And BRUTUS tenderly reproves.

Why, Virtue, doft thou blame Defire,
Which Nature has imprest?
Why, Nature, doft thou fooneft fire
The mild and gen'rous Breast?

VIRGINS.

Love's purer Flames the Gods approve;
The Gods, and BRUTUS bend to Love:
BRUTUS for absent PORTIA, fighs,

And fterner CASSIUS melts at JUNIA's Eyes.
What is loose Love? A wand'ring Fire,
A tranfient Fit of fond Defire.

But

But HYMEN'S Flames like Stars unite,

And burn for ever one;

Chafte, as cold CYNTHIA'S Virgin Light,
Productive as the Sun.

YOUTHS.

What various Joys on One attend,
As Son, as Father, Husband, Friend?
Whether his hoary Sire he spies,

And finds a thousand grateful Thoughts arise,
Or meets his Spoufe's fonder Eye,

Or views his smiling Progeny ;
What tender Paffion take their turns?
What home-felt Raptures move?

His Heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
With Rev'rence, Hope and Love.

CHORUS of Both.

Hence guilty Joys, Diftaftes, Surmifes,
False Oaths, falfe Tears, Deceits, Disguises,
Dangers, Doubts, Delays, Surprizes,
(Fires that scorch, yet dare not fhine)
Pureft Love's unwafting Treasure,
Constant Faith, fair Hope, long Leifure,
Days of Eafe, and Nights of Pleasure,

Sacred HYMEN! these are thine.

ACT

ACT III.

SCENE I.

In the fame Vestibule.

Enter BRUTUS, JUNIA, LUCILIUS.

LUCILIUS.

A Meflenger exprefs arriv'd from Rome,

Is entring mournfully the Palace Gates ; And, as he paffes, weeping all the way.

BRUTUS.

My Mind forebodes; speak, is my PORTIA Well? Enter Meffenger, who gives a Letter to BRUTUS.

MESSENGER.

She is, Sir.

BRUTUS.

Then I hope to bear the worst.

"My Duty forces me to fend you News,

[Reads.

"Which,tho' you needs must know, I grieve to write. "Two hundred of the nobleft Rank in Rome "Profcrib'd, and murder'd: CICERO himself "Giv'n up by falfe OCTAVIUS to his Foes.

Good

Good Heav'ns! to whom do ye dispose Mankind?

[Drops the Letter.

Sad Fate indeed; fo great a Villany

Is most furprizing, tho' 'tis done by them. [Weeps:

JUNIA.

Dismal indeed! but oh my dearest Brother,

Let not your tender Mind be too much touch'd; Practise that Patience which you now have taught me. CASSIUS is abfent, I am defolate,

Yet Rome (you faid) must take up all my Thoughts.
BRUTUS.

'And therefore 'tis for Rome I moft lament,
At once depriv'd of her most worthy Sons!
These Sons are to be envy'd, not bemoan'd ;
Most noble Suff'rers in their Country's Cause:
Great CICERO lives ftill, fhall live for ever;
While Men can read, or value Worth or Learning.
But Rome herself appears all pale before me,
Gushing out Tears, and wringing helpless Hands;
Rome, Rome has loft her beft, her pureft Blood!
[Weeps again.

JUNIA.

BRUTUS, be chear'd: her vital Parts remain ;
In you and CASSIUS flows the Roman Spirit,
That still inspires whole Armies on her fide.