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PROLOGUE

TO THE ALTERATION OF JULIUS CAESAR.

HOPE to mend Shakespeare! or to match his style!
"Tis fuch a jeft would make a Stoic smile.
Too fond of fame, our poet foars too high,
Yet freely owns he wants the wings to fly :
So fenfible of his prefumptuous thought,
That he confeffes while he does the fault:
"This to the fair will no great wonder prove,
Who oft' in blushes yield to what they love.
Of greatest actions and of nobleft men
This story most deserves a poet's pen;
For who can with a scene more justly fam'd,
When Rome and mighty Julius are but nam'd!
That state of heroes who the world had hrav'd!
That wondrous man who fuch a ftate enflay'd!
Yet loath he was to take fo rough a way,
And after govern'd with fo mild a fway.
At distance now of feventeen hundred years,
Methinks a lovely ravisher appears,

Whom, tho' forbid by virtue to excufe,

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A nymph might pardon, and could scarce refufe. 20

PROLOGUE

TO MARCUS BRUTUS.

OUR fcene is Athens; and, great Athens nam'd,
What foul fo dull as not to be inflam'd?
Methinks at mentioning that facred place
A rev'rend awe appears in ev'ry face
For men fo fam'd, of fuch prodigious parts,
As taught the world all sciences and arts.
Amidst all thefe ye shall behold a man
The most applauded fince mankind began,
Outshining ev'n those Greeks who most excel,
Whofe life was one fix'd course of doing well.
Oh! who can therefore without tears attend
On such a life, and fuch a fatal end?

But here our author, befides other faults
Of ill expreffions and of vulgar thoughts,
Commits one crime that needs an act of grace,

And breaks the law of unity of place:
Yet to fuch noble patriots, overcome
By factious violence, and banish'd Rome,
Athens alone a fit retreat could yield;

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And where can Brutus fall but in Philippi field? 20 Some critics judge ev'n love itself too mean

A care to mix in fuch a lofty scene,

And with thofe ancient bards of Greece believe

Friendship has stronger charms to please or grieve

But our more amorous poet, finding love
Amidst all other cares, ftill fhines above,
Lets not the best of Romans end their lives

Without just foftness for the kindest wives.
Yet if ye think his gentle nature fuch
As to have foften'd this great tale too much,

Soon will your eyes grow dry, and passion fall,
When ye reflect 't is all but conjugal.

This to the few and knowing was addreft,
And now 't is fit I fhould falute the rest.

Moft reverend dull Judges of the pit,

By Nature curs'd with the wrong fide of wit!
You need not care, whate'er you fee to-night,
How ill fome players act or poets write;
Should our mistakes be never fo notorious,
You'll have the joy of being more cenforious.
Shew your fmall talent then, let that fuffice ye;
But grow not vain upon it, I advise ye.
Each petty critic can objections raife;
The greatest skill is knowing when to praise.

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CHORUSES IN JULIUS CÆSAR.

CHORUS I.

I.

WHITHER is Roman honour gone?
Where is your ancient virtue now?
That valour which so bright has fhone,
And with the wings of conqueft flown,
Muft to a haughty mafter bow,

Who with our toil, our blood, and all we have befide,
Gorges his ill-got pow'r, his humour, and his pride.

II.

Fearless he will his life expose;

So does a lion or a bear;

His very virtues threaten those
Who more his bold ambition fear.

How ftupid wretches we appear

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Who round the world for wealth and empire roam, Yet never, never think what flaves we are at home!

III.

Did men for this together join,

Quitting the free wild life of Nature?

What other beaft did e'er defign

The fetting up his fellow-creature,
And of two mischiefs chuse the greater?

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Oh! rather than be flaves to bold imperious men, 20 Give us our wildness and our woods, our huts and

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Happily we all should live, and harmless as our sheep, And at last as calmly die as infants fall asleep.

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CHORUS II.

Lo! to prevent this mighty empire's doom,
From bright unknown abodes of blifs I come,
The awful Genius of majestic Rome.

Great is her danger; but I will engage
Some few, the master-souls of all this age,
To do an act of just heroic rage.

'Tis hard a man so great should fall fo low; More hard to let fo brave a people.bow

To one themselves have rais'd, who fcorns them now.

Yet, oh! I grieve that Brutus fhould be ftain'd, 14 Whofe life, excepting this one act, remain'd

So

pure, that future times will think it feign'd.

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