CASSIUS.
Will you not wait on Cæsar to the Course?

BRUTUS.
Not I.

CASSIUS.
How so?

BRUTUS.
I am not fit for Sports;
I want the airy Humour of Marc Antony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your Desires.

CASSIUS.
Brutus, I have observ'd you much of late;
I have not from your Eyes that Gentleness
And Show of Love, which I was us'd to find:
Pardon my Cares, that only come from Kindness;
Your Carriage is a little too reserv'd,
And strange, to Friends who would be more familiar.

BRUTUS.
Cassius, mistake me not, if I have veil'd
My Look, I turn the trouble of my Countenance
Meerly upon my self: I am of late
Troubled with Passions of a diff'rent nature,
Conceptions only proper to my self,

Which gives perhaps some Soil to my Behaviour.
But let not therefore my good Friends complain,
(Amongst which number Cassius is the chief)
Nor misinterpret farther my Neglect;
But think poor Brutus, with himself at War,
Forgets the Shows of Love to other Men.

CASSIUS.
I am most glad to find I was mistaken.
That Error made this Breast of mine conceal
Thoughts of great Value, worthy of your Ear:
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your Face?

BRUTUS.
No, Cassius; for, the Eye sees not it self,
But by Reflexion from some other thing.

CASSIUS.
'Tis just: Then know, 'tis much lamented Brutus,
That you have no such Mirror as might show
(Spite of your Modesty your own hid Worth;)
That you for once might see the noble Shadow.

I have heard some, of the best Rank in Rome
(Except immortal Cæsar) talk of Brutus;
And groaning underneath this Age's Yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his Eyes.

BRUTUS.
Into what Dangers wou'd you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me look into my self
For that which is not in me?

CASSIUS.
Brutus, hear:
And since, you know, you cannot see your self
So well as by Reflexion; I, your Glass,
Will without all Disguise discover now
That of your self, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus.
Were I some slight Buffoon, or us'd to flatter,
To cloy each Man I meet with proffer'd Love,
And then betray him; did I use to fawn
And hug Men hard, then crush them with my Scandal;

Or if you ever knew me riotous
To loss of Reason; then you might suspect me.
What Shouts are these? (A great Shout.

BRUTUS.
I hope, like those just now,
For Joy, that Cæsar has refus'd the Crown.

CASSIUS.
If you hope that, you would not have him King.

BRUTUS.
I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.

CASSIUS.
And do you think he would forgive that Wish,
Or would accept your Love, with that Allay?

BRUTUS.
If just, he will; and, if unjust, I care not.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
I see you labour with some weighty thing.
If it be towards the gen'ral Good, speak quickly;
I am in haste to meet your noble Thoughts.

Set Virtue in my Eye, and let grim Death
Shake his unheeded Dart, I'll still be fix'd.
For, may the Gods so help me, as, for Honour,
I look indiff'rently on Life or Death.

CASSIUS.
I know your Virtue, Brutus, and dare trust it.
Well, Honour is the Subject of my Story.
I cannot tell what you and other Men
Think of this Life; but for my single self,
I'll chuse much rather not to live at all,
Than live to be in awe of any thing.
I was born free as Cæsar; so are you;
We both are bred as well; and we can both
Endure the Winter's Cold as well as he.
For, once upon a raw and gusty Day,
The troubled Tiber turn'd into a Foam,
Cæsar says to me, Cassius, darst thou now
Leap in with me into this angry Flood,
And swim to yonder Point? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plung'd me in,

And bade him follow; so indeed he did:
The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it,
With lusty Sinews throwing it aside,
But yet, e'er we could reach the Point propos'd,
Cæsar cry'd, help me, Cassius, or I sink!
Just as Æneas, our great Ancestor,
Did from the Flames of Troy bear on his Shoulders
The old Anchises, I, from Tiber's Waves
Bore the tir'd Cæsar; Yet this feeble Man
Is now become a God; and Cassius is
A wretched Creature, and must bend his Body,
If Cæsar give him but a careless Nod.
A strange Disease possesses him sometimes,
This Day I saw him fall into his Fit;
(That which delay'd the Sports till Afternoon.)
This God has fall'n to ground, and foam'd at mouth,
His Limbs have trembled, and his Eyes have roll'd,
Yet now his Look must awe the trembling World.
Nay, I have heard him groan, like a sick Girl;

And that smooth Tongue which us'd to move so much,
And make the Romans set down all it said,
Would faulter then, and stammer out strange things.
Gods! why should one of such a feeble Temper
Be set upon the Top of all this World,
To look down on Mankind? (A Shout.

BRUTUS.
Another Shout! sure Rome is turn'd a Revel! (Another Shout.
I fear at least they crown him with Applause.

CASSIUS.
Why, Man, he now bestrides the narrow World,
Like a Colossus; and we petty Men
Walk under his huge Legs, and peep about,
To find our selves dishonourable Graves.
Men, at some times, are Masters of their Fates;
The Fault, dear Brutus, is not in our Stars,
But in our selves, that we are Underlings.
Brutus, and Cæsar! where's the difference?

Why should that Name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a Name;
Shout Brutus, and the Echo is as loud:
Brutus and Cæsar! conjure with those Names,
Brutus will start a Spirit, as soon as Cæsar.
Now in the Name of all the Gods at once,
On what high Fame does this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd!
Rome, thou hast lost thy Breed of noble Blood!
When did there pass an Age, since Time first was,
That the whole World resounded but one Man?
When could they say, till now, who talk'd of Rome,
That her wide Walls contain'd one single Heroe?
O, you and I have heard our Fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, who kill'd his Sons,
And would have slain his dearest Friend, nay Father,
Rather than suffer Rome to be enslav'd.

BRUTUS.
That Cassius loves me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to, I have some Aim;

How I have thought of this, and of these Times,
I shall recount hereafter; for this present,
I would not (if with Love I might intreat it)
Be any farther mov'd. What you have said,
I will consider; what you have to say,
I will with Patience bear, and find a time
Both fit to hear, and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble Friend, remember this;
Brutus had rather be a Villager,
A worthless Stranger, than a Son of Rome,
Under such hard Conditions as this Time
Is like to lay upon us.

CASSIUS.
I am happy,
That my weak Words have drawn thus much from Brutus.

BRUTUS.
A suddain Storm! I'll leave you, noble Cassius; (Excessive Thunder and Lightning, on a suddain.

We are observ'd. At Midnight, if you please,
We'll meet again, and talk of this more largely.

CASSIUS.
I will not fail to wait on worthy Brutus. (Exit Brutus.

Previous section

Next section