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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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SCENE I. Brutus's Garden. Enter Brutus.

Brutus.
What, Lucius! ho!—
I cannot by the progress of the stars,
Give guess how near to day—Lucius, I say!
—I would, it were my fault to sleep so soundly.—
When, Lucius, when? awake, I say? what, Lucius!
Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Call'd you, my Lord?

Bru.
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.

-- 24 --

Luc.
I will, my Lord.
[Exit.

Bru.
It must be by his death; and, for my part,
I know no personal cause to spurn at him;
But for the general. He would be crown'd;
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking: Crown him—that—
And then I grant we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abuse of Greatness is, when it disjoins
9 noteRemorse from Power: and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason. But 'tis a 1 notecommon proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the 2 notebase degrees
By which he did ascend. So Cæsar may:
Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel
Will bear no colour, for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these, and these extremities:
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatch'd, would, 3 noteas his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell.
Enter Lucius.

Luc.
The taper burneth in your closet, Sir:
Searching the window for a flint, I found
This paper, thus seal'd up: and, I am sure,

-- 25 --


It did not lie there, when I went to bed. [Gives him the letter.

Bru.
Get you to bed again, it is not day:
4 noteIs not to-morrow, boy, the Ides of March?

Luc.
I know not, Sir.

Bru.
Look in the kalendar, and bring me word.

Luc.
I will, Sir.
[Exit.

Bru.
The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light, that I may read by them. [Opens the letter, and reads.
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself:
Shall Rome,—speak, strike, redress.
Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake.
Such instigations have been often dropt,
Where I have took them up:
Shall Rome—thus must I piece it out,
“Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? what! “Rome?
“My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
“The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a King.”
Speak, strike, redress,—am I entreated
To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

-- 26 --

Enter Lucius.

Luc.
5 note

Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. [knocks within.

Bru.
'Tis good. Go to the gate; some body knocks. [Exit Lucius.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,
I have not slept.
6 note














Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is

-- 27 --


Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The Genius, and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little Kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.6Q0230 Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,
Who doth desire to see you.

Bru.
Is he alone?

-- 28 --

Luc.
No, Sir, there are more with him.

Bru.
Do you know them?

Luc.
No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt about their ears,
And half their faces buried in their Cloaks;
That by no means I may discover them
By any mark 7 noteof favour.

Bru.
Let them enter. [Exit Lucius.
They are the faction. O Conspiracy!
Sham'st thou to shew thy dang'rous brow by night,
When Evils are most free? O then, by day
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough,
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, Conspiracy;
Hide it in Smiles and Affability;
8 noteFor if thou path, thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention.

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Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
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