CASCA.
What's all this Croud, and whither are ye going,
My gazing Fellow-Citizens? To wait
On your own Shame, and stare upon your Bondage?

1 TRADESMAN.
I know not what you mean by Shame and Bondage:
We go to see great Cæsar, and the Sports.

CASCA.
And much good do you, Friend; You little think,
The Man you so admire would be your Master.

TRADESMAN.
My Master! He would scorn so mean a Servant.
I hope you will not jest at mighty Cæsar? (Casca laughs.

CASCA.
I only laugh at you for loving Cæsar.

TRADESMAN.
Oh, is that all? Well Sir, make bold with me;
But have a care of medling with your Betters.

CASCA.
Betters! Thou sawcy Citizen, be silent.

TRADESMAN.
Then I am hush'd. Speak you, Sir.

CASCA.
What, to Fools?
To Men, whose Minds are sunk in low Submission?
Born free, and yet contented to be Slaves?
Form'd like the dull strong Horse, to bear a Rider?
Well, we may wish, and vent our Rage in Curses:
May Cæsar—

TRADESMAN.
Hold; and hear if he speaks Treason.

CASCA.
May Cæsar live, as long as good Men wish him!

TRADESMAN.
Why, what does this Man mean? he prays for Cæsar.
Long may he live Rome's great, and wise Dictator!

TREBONIUS.
Oh, my good Friends, how blind are those Desires!
Did you but know how much you curse your selves,
No People, sure, would be such Self-destroyers,
Tho' but in Wish. Did ever Men before

Pray for continuance of a Tyrant Ague
That shakes their very Souls? See, how Rome trembles,
And looks all pale, with Loss of guiltless Blood!
Who has not lost a Kinsman, or a Friend,
Whose honest Life the War has sacrific'd
To this Man's wild Ambition?
Nay, are not you dead too? since in his Power
To kill you when he pleases? with this diff'rence;
That Death, once come, frees ye from all its Force,
Which every hour ye now expect with Terror.
Before this fatal Time each good Man here
Was Master of the World, and shar'd the Power;
Kings waited on your Votes, and watch'd your Wills:
But now (I weep to say how sad a Change!)
The Greatness, nay the Goodness of this Cæsar,
Is founded on our Baseness: For, alas!
What must we be, to be forgiv'n by him?

And do you think, because he gives you Pleasures,
Treats you with Shows, and popular Appearance,
That all this seeming Softness is not Shadow?
A very Trick to lull your Thoughts asleep,
And then subject them? make them mild, and tame,
Fit for the servile use of being Subjects?
Those lofty Thoughts, which like true mettled Hawks
Were us'd to fly so strong, and soar so high,
Which Nature has design'd to prey on Tyrants,
And not to serve them; now are whistled off
With every Pageant Pomp, and gawdy Show.
For shame, repent of such a childish Folly;
And rather tear, like Cato, your own Bowels,
Than live to see your Country torn by Tyrants.

CASCA.
And Pompey too, methinks, should be remember'd,
Who died for you so lately; on whose Ruin
This Cæsar stands, and scorns us all beneath him.

TREBONIUS.
See if they are not mov'd; the Roman Soul
Now swells within them. Go, my worthy Friends;
And, if you needs will see your Tyrant's Triumph,
Gaze on him then with angry envious Eyes:
Be every one a Basilisk to him;
Kill him with staring.

1 Citizen.
Farewel worthy Lords!
You love your Country, and we love you for it.

TREBONIUS.
Shall we not be accus'd for this?

CASCA.
No matter;
We break no Laws either of Gods or Men:
So, if we fall, it is with Reputation;
A Fate which Cowards shun, and brave Men seek.
If Cæsar punish Men for speaking Truth,
My honest Tongue shall dare his utmost Doom.

But here he comes, with all that Pomp and Pride
In which young Pow'r so childishly delights.

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