Brutus. The wars once ended, we shall quickly know,
Whether he will restore the state or no.
Cassius. No, Brutus, never look to see that day,
For Cæsar holdeth signiory too dear.
But know, while Cassius hath one drop of blood
To feed this worthless body that you see,
What reck I death to do so many good?
In spite of Cæsar, Cassius will be free.
Brutus. A generous or true ennobled spirit
Detests to learn what tastes of servitude.
Cassius. Brutus, I cannot serve nor see Rome yok'd;
No, let me rather die a thousand deaths.
"The stiff-neck'd horses champ not on the bit,
Nor meekly bear the rider but by force:
The sturdy oxen toil not at the plough,
Nor yield unto the yoke, but by constraint."
Shall we then, that are men and Romans born,
Submit us to unurged slavery?
Shall Rome, that hath so many overthrown,
Now make herself a subject to her own?
O base indignity! A beardless youth,
Whom king Nicomedes could overreach,
Commands the world, and bridleth all the earth,
And like a prince controls the Romulists;
Brave Roman soldiers, stern-born sons of Mars,
And none, not one, that dares to undertake
The intercepting of his tyranny.
O Brutus, speak! O say, Servilius!
Why cry you aim![364] and see us used thus?
But Brutus lives, and sees, and knows, and feels,
That there is one that curbs their country's weal.
Yet (as he were the semblance, not the son,
Of noble Brutus, his great grandfather):
As if he wanted hands, sense, sight, or heart,
He doth, deviseth, sees, nor dareth ought,
That may extirp or raze these tyrannies.
Nor ought doth Brutus that to Brute belongs,
But still increaseth by his negligence
His own disgrace and Cæsar's violence.
The wrong is great, and overlong endur'd;
We should have practis'd, conspir'd, conjured
A thousand ways and weapons to repress,
Or kill outright, this cause of our distress.
Chorus. Who prodigally spends his blood
Bravely to do his country good,
And liveth to no other end,
But resolutely to attempt,
What may the innocent defend,
And bloody tyrants' rage prevent:
And he that, in his soul assur'd,
Hath water's force and fire endur'd,
And pass'd the pikes of thousand hosts,
To free the earth from tyranny,
And fearless scours on dang'rous coasts,
T' enlarge his country's liberty:
Were all the world his foes before,
Now shall they love him evermore;
His glory, spread abroad by Fame
On wings of his posterity,
From obscure death shall free his name,
To live in endless memory.
All after-ages shall adore,
And honour him with hymns therefore.
Yearly the youth for joy shall bring
The fairest flowers that grow in Rome;
And yearly in the summer sing,
O'er his heroic kingly tomb.
For so the two Athenians,
That from their fellow-citizens
Did freely chase vile servitude,
Shall live for valiant prowess blest;
No sepulchre shall e'er exclude
Their glory, equal with the best.
But when the vulgar, mad and rude,
Repay good with ingratitude,
Hardly then they them reward,
That to free them from the hands
Of a tyrant, ne'er regard
In what plight their person stands.