Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

As well might Heav'nly SOCRATES infuse

His own wife temper, while he taught his morals,
AS BRUTUS raise my foul to equal his.

BRUTUS.

Be not so 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 passion.
Love, ev'n when most fuccessful, makes not happy.
Sometimes indeed, pleasure beyond expreffion
Poffeffes all at once both mind and body,
Confounding foul and fense with height of rapture.
But what allays o'erbalance all this joy!
Frequent difquiets, doubts, and jealoufies;
Sometimes the pains of abfence, and fometimes,
Amidst the bliss, a difmal dread to lose it.
At beft the pleasure is but intermitting,
While the uneafy fever never ceafes.
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 wifh for one."

Give me your hand, you'll march with me to-morrow, Where you will drown your fighs in founds of war, 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 poffeft

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breaft?
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
And arts but foften us to feel thy flame.
VARIUS with blufhes owns he loves,
And BRUTUS tenderly reproves.
Why, virtue, doft thou blame defire,
Which nature has imprest?
Why, nature, dost thou fooneft fire
The mild and gen'rous breast?

VIRGINS.

Love's flames the Gods approve;

purer

The Gods, and BRUTUS bend to love:
BRUTUS for absent PORTIA fighs,
And fterner CASSIUS melts at JUNIA's eyes.
What is loofe love? A wand'ring fire,
A tranfient fit of fond defire.

But HYMEN's flames like stars unite,
And burn for ever one;

Chafte, as cold CYNTHIA'S virgin light,
Productive as the fun.

YOUTHS.

What various joys on one attend,
As fon, as father, husband, friend?
Whether his hoary fire he spies,

And finds a thousand grateful thoughts arife,
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye,
Or views his smiling progeny ;

What tender passions 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, distastes, furmises,
Falfe oaths, falfe tears, deceits, difguifes,
Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes,

(Fires that scorch, yet dare not fhine)
Pureft love's unwafting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure,
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure,
Sacred HYMEN! these are thine.

Hh

ACT III. SCENE I.

In the fame Vestibule.

Enter BRUTUS, JUNIA, LUCILIUS.

LUCILIUS.

A Meffenger exprefs arriv'd from Rome,

Is entring mournfully the palace gates; And, as he paffes, weeping all the way.

BRUTUS.

My mind forebodes; fpeak, is my PORTIA well? Enter MESSENGER, 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 noblest rank in Rome "Profcrib'd, and murder'd: CICERO himself "Giv'n up by false OCTAVIUS to his foes." Good Heav'ns! to whom do ye dispose mankind? [Drops the Letter. Sad fate, indeed! So great a villainy Is moft furprizing, tho' 'tis done by them.

JUNIA.

Difmal indeed! but oh my dearest brother,

[Weeps.

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) muft take up all my thoughts.

BRUTUS.

And therefore 'tis for Rome I most lament,
At once depriv'd of her most worthy fons!
These fons are to be envy'd, not bemoan'd;
Most noble fuff'rers in their country's caufe:
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 lost her best, her purest blood!
[Weeps again.

JUNIA.

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

LUCILIUS.

'Tis nobly, truly faid; and you, bright JUNIA, Poffefs a foul, tho' in a fofter frame,

Lofty enough to animate ev'n them.

BRUTUS.

She does, LUCILIUS; and were PORTIA here,
(But I, alas! fhall never be fo happy)
CASSIUS and I fhould be but followers
Of them in the defence of liberty.

But oh! my CICERO! who speaks thy praise,
Must have a tongue like thine, beyond the bounds
Of Roman eloquence; and fit to fill

The mouth of fame with never-dying founds.

JUNIA.

How could OCTAVIUS confent to lose him,
The best, as well as wifest of his friends?

« AnteriorContinuar »