JULIUS CÆSAR. A TRAGEDY. Printed in the Year 1709.

Dramatis Personæ. Julius Cæsar [Julius Caesar]. Octavius Cæsar [Octavius Caesar]. M. Antony [Marcus Antonius]. Brutus [Marcus Brutus], Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Cassius, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Caska [Casca], Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Trebonius, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Ligarius, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Decius Brutus, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Metellus Cimber, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Cinna, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Flavius, Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Murellus [Marullus], Conspirator against Julius Cæsar. Artimedorus [Artemidorus], a Sooth-sayer. Messala, Friend to Brutus and Cassius. Titinius, Friend to Brutus and Cassius. Cinna, the Poet [Poet 1]. Lucius, Servant to Brutus. Calphurnia, Wife to Cæsar. Portia, Wife to Brutus. Plebeians, Guards and Attendants. [Cobler], [Carpenter], [Soothsayer], [Cicero], [Ligarius], [Servant], [Publius], [Plebians], [Plebian 1], [Plebian 2], [Plebian 3], [Plebian 4], [M. Aemil. Lepidus], [Lucilius], [Pindarus], [Poet 2], [Ghost], [Varro], [Claudius], [Young Cato], [Soldier], [Soldier 1], [Soldier 2], [Clitus], [Dardarius], [Volumnius], [Strato] SCENE for the three first Acts and beginning of the Fourth in Rome, for the remainder of the Fourth near Sardis, for the Fifth in the Fields of Philippi.

JULIUS CÆSAR. ACT I. SCENE I. SCENE Rome. Enter Flavius, Murellus, and certain Commoners over the Stage.

FLAVIUS.
Hence; Home you idle Creatures, get you home;
Is this a Holy-day? What, know you not,
Being Mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring Day, without the Sign
Of your Profession? Speak, what Trade art thou?

Car.
Why Sir, a Carpenter.

Mur.
Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule?
What dost thou with thy best Apparel on?
You Sir, what Trade are you?

Cob.

Truly Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am but as you sav would say, a Cobler.

Mur.

But what Trade art thou? answer me directly.

Cob.

A Trade, Sir, that I hope I may use with a safe Conscience, which is indeed, Sir, a mender of bad Soals.

Flav.

What Trade, thou Knave? thou naughty Knave, what Trade?

Cob.

Nay, I beseech you Sir, be not out with me; yet if you be out Sir, I can mend you.

Mur.

What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou sawcy Fellow?

Cob.

Why, Sir, Cobble you.

Flav.

Thou art a Cobler, art thou?

Cob.

Truly Sir, all that I live by, is the Awl: I meddle with no Tradesman's Matters, nor Woman's Matters; but withal, I am indeed, Sir, a Surgeon to old Shooes; when they are in great Danger, I recover them. As proper Men as ever trod upon Neats-Leather, have gone upon my handy work.

Flav.
But wherefore art not in thy Shop to Day?
Why dost thou lead these Men about the Streets?

Cob.

Truly Sir, to wear out their Shooes, to get my self into more work. But indeed Sir, we make Holy-day to see Cæsar, and to rejoyce in his Triumph.

Mur.
Wherefore rejoyce?—What Conquest brings he home?
What Tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in Captive Bonds his Chariot Wheels?
You Blocks, you Stones, you worse than senseless Things!
O you hard Hearts! You cruel Men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft?
Have you climb'd up to Walls and Battlements,
To Towers and Windows, yea to Chimney tops,
Your Infants in your Arms, and there have sate
The live-long Day with patient Expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the Streets of Rome?
And when you saw his Chariot but appear,
Have you not made an Universal Shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his Banks
To hear the Replication of your Sounds,
Made in his Concave Shores?
And do you now put on your best Attire?
And do you now cull out an Holy-day?
And do you now strew Flowers in his way,
That comes in Triumph over Pompey's Blood?
Be gone—
Run to your Houses, fall upon your Knees,
Pray to the Gods, to intermit the Plague,
That needs must light on this Ingratitude.

Flav.
Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this Fault
Assemble all the poor Men of your sort;
Draw them to Tyber Bank, and weep your Tears
Into the Channel, 'till the lowest Stream
Do kiss the most exalted Shores of all. [Exeunt Commoners.

See where their basest Mettle be not mov'd,
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their Guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol,
This way will I; Disrobe the Images,
If you do find them deck'd with Ceremonies.

Mur.
May we do so?
You know it is the Feast of Lupercal.

Flav.
It is no matter, let no Images
Be hung with Cæsar's Trophies; I'll about,
And drive away the Vulgar from the Streets;
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing Feathers pluckt from Casar's Wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary Pitch,
Who else would soar above the view of Men,
And keep us all in servile Fearfulness. [Exeunt: Enter Cæsar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer; after them Murellus and Flavius.

Cæs.
Calphurnia.

Cask.
Peace ho, Cæsar speaks.

Cæs.
Calphurnia.

Calp.
Here, my Lord.

Cæs.
Stand you directly in Antonio's way,
When he doth run his Course.—Antonio.

Ant.
Cæsar, my Lord.

Cæs.
Forget not in your speed, Antonio.
To touch Calphurnia; for our Elders say,
The Barren touched in this holy Chase,
Shake off their steril Curse.

Ant.
I shall remember.
When Cæsar says, Do this; it is perform'd.

Cæs.
Set on, and leave no Ceremony out.

Sooth.
Cæsar.

Cæs.
Ha! Who calls?

Cask.
Bid every Noise be still; Peace yet again.

Cæs.
Who is it in the Press that calls on me?
I hear a Tongue, shriller than all the Musick,
Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear.

Sooth.
Beware the Ides of March.

Cæs.
What Man is that?

Bru.
A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March.

Cæs.
Set him before me, let me see his Face.

Cas.
Fellow, come from the Throng, look upon Cæsar.

Cæs.
What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

Sooth.
Beware the Ides of March.

Cæs.
He is a Dreamer, let us leave him; Pass. [Exeunt. Manent Brutus and Cassius.

Cas.
Will you go see the order of the Course?

Bru.
Not I.

Cas.
I pray you do.

Bru.
I am not Gamesom; I do lack some part
Of that quick Spirit that is in Antony:
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your Desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas.
Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
I have not from your Eyes that Gentleness
And shew of Love, as I was wont to have;
You bear too stubborn, and too strange a Hand
Over your Friends, that love you.

Bru.
Cassius,
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the Trouble of my Countenance
Meerly upon my self. Vexed I am
Of late, with Passions of some Difference,
Conceptions only proper to my self,
Which give some Soil, perhaps, to my Behaviour:
But let not therefore my good Friends be griev'd,
Among which Number Cassius be you one,
Nor construe any further my Neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at War,
Forgets the shews of Love to other Men.

Cas.
Then Brutus, I have much mistook your Passion,
By Means whereof, this Breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great Value, worthy Cogitations.
Tell me good Brutus, can you see your Face?

Bru.
No Cassius; for the Eye sees not it self,
But by Reflection, by some other things.

Cas.
'Tis just,
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your Eye,

That you might see your Shadow. I have heard
Where many of the best Respect in Rome,
Except immortal Cæsar, speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this Age's Yoak,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his Eyes.

Bru.
Into what Dangers would you lead me, Cassius?
That you would have me seek into my self,
For that which is not in me?

Cas.
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;
And since you know you cannot see your self
So well as by Reflection; I, your Glass,
Will modestly discover to your self
That of your self, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus;
Were I a common Laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary Oaths my Love
To every new Protestor; if you know
That I do fawn on Men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know,
That I profess my self in Banqueting
To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous. [Flourish and Shout.

Bru.
What means this Shouting? I do fear, the People
Chuse Cæsar for their King.

Cas.
Ay, do you fear it?
Then must I think you would not have it so.

Bru.
I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well:
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it, that you would impart to me?
If it be ought toward the general Good,
Set Honour in one Eye, and Death i'th' other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For let the Gods so speed me, as I love
The name of Honour, more than I fear Death.

Cas.
I know that Virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward Favour;
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 had as lief not be, as live to be

In awe of such a Thing as I my self.
I was born free as Cæsar, so were you,
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the Winters cold, as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty Day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his Shores,
Cæsar says to me, Dar'st thou Cassius now
Leap in with me into this angry Flood,
And swim to yonder Point? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bad him follow; so indeed he did.
The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty Sinews, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with Hearts of Controversie.
But e'er we could arrive the Point propos'd,
Cæsar cry'd, Help me Cassius, or I sink.
I, as Æneas, our great Ancestor,
Did from the Flames of Troy, upon his Shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so, from the Waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæsar: And, this Man
Is now become a God, and Cassius is
A wretched Creature, and must bend his Body,
If Cæsar carelesly but nod on him.
He had a Feaver when he was in Spain,
And when the Fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'Tis true, this God did shake,
His coward Lips did from their Colour fly,
And that same Eye, whose bend doth awe the World,
Did lose his Lustre; I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that Tongue of his that bad the Romans
Mark him, and write his Speeches in their Books,
Alas! it cryed—Give me some drink, Titinius—
As a sick Girl. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A Man of such a feeble Temper should
So get the Start of the majestick World,
And bear the Palm alone. [Shout. Flourish.

Bru.
Another general Shout?
I do believe, that these Applauses are
For some new Honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.

Cas.
Why Man, he doth bestride 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. What should be in that Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together; yours is as fair a Name;
Sound them, it doth become the Mouth as well,
Weigh them, it is as heavy; Conjure with 'em,
Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as Cæsar.
Now in the Names of all the Gods at once,
Upon what Meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd;
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble Bloods.
When went there by an Age, since the great Flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one Man?
When could they say, 'till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide Walks incompast but one Man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and Room enough
When there is in it but one only Man.
O! you and I have heard our Fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
Th' eternal Devil to keep his State in Rome,
As easily as a King.

Bru.
That you do love 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 so (with Love I might intreat you)
Be any further mov'd. What you have said,
I will consider; what you have to say
I will with Patience hear, and find a time
Both meet to hear, and answer such high Thing
'Till then, my noble Friend, chew upon this;
Brutus had rather be a Villager,
Than to repute himself a Son of Rome
Under such hard Conditions, as this Time
Is like to lay upon us.

Cas.
I am glad that my weak Words
Have struck but thus much shew of Fire from Brutus. Enter Cæsar and his Train.

Bru.
The Games are done, and Cæsar is returning.

Cas.
As they pass by, pluck Caska by the Sleeve,
And he will, after his sowre Fashion, tell you
What hath proceeded worthy Note to day.

Bru.
I will do so: But look you, Cassius,
The angry spot doth blow on Cæsar's Brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden Train;
Calphurnia's Cheek is pale, and Cicero
Looks with such Ferret, and such fiery Eyes
As we have seen him in the Capitol,
Being crost in Conference with some Senators.

Cas.
Caska will tell us what the Matter is,

Cæs.
Antonio.

Ant.
Cæsar.

Cæs.
Let me have Men about me that are Fat,
Sleek-headed Men, and such as sleep a-Nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry Look,
He thinks too much; such Men are dangerous.

Ant.
Fear him not, Cæsar, he's not dangerous,
He is a noble Roman, and well given.

Cæs.
Would he were fatter; but I fear him not:
Yet if my Name were liable to fear,
I do not know the Man I should avoid,
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much,
He is a great Observer, and he looks
Quite through the Deeds of Men. He loves no Plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no Musick:
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his Spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
Such Men as he, be never at Hearts ease,
Whilst they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Than what I fear; for always I am Cæsar.

Come on my right Hand, for this Ear is deaf,
And tell me truly, what thou think'st of him. [Exeunt Cæsar and his Train.

Cask.

You pull'd me by the Cloak, would you speak with me?

Bru.
Ay Caska, tell us what hath chanc'd to Day,
That Cæsar looks so sad.

Cask.
Why you were with him, were you not?

Bru.
I should not then ask Caska what had chanc'd.

Cask.

Why, there was a Crown offer'd him; and being offer'd him, he put it by with the back of his Hand, thus, and then the People fell a Shouting.

Bru.

What was the second Noise for?

Cask.

Why, for that too.

Cas.

They shouted thrice; what was the last Cry for?

Cask.

Why, for that too.

Bru.

Was the Crown offer'd him thrice?

Cask.

Ay marry was't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting by, mine honest Neighbours shouted.

Cas.

Who offer'd him the Crown?

Cask.

Why, Antony.

Bru.

Tell us the manner of it, gentle Caska.

Cask.

I can as well be hang'd as tell the manner of it: It was meer Foolery, I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a Crown, yet 'twas not a Crown neither, 'twas one of these Coronets; and, as I told you, he put it by once; but for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again; but, to my thinking, he was very loth to lay his Fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by; and still as he refus'd it, the Rabblement houted, and clapp'd their chopt Hands, and threw up their sweaty Night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking Breath, because Cæsar refus'd the Crown, that it had almost choaked Cæsar; for he swooned, and fell down at it: And for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my Lips, and receiving the bad Air.

Cas.

But soft I pray you; what, did Cæsar swoon?

Cask.

He fell down in the Market-place, and foam'd at Mouth, and was speechless.

Bru.
'Tis very like, he hath the Falling-Sickness.

Cas.
No, Cæsar hath it not; but you, and I,
And honest Caska; we have the Falling-Sickness.

Cask.

I know not what you mean by that; but I am sure Cæsar fell down; if the tag-rag People did not clap him, and hiss him, according as he pleas'd, and displeas'd them, as they use to do the Players in the Theatre, I am no true Man.

Bru.

What said he, when he came unto himself?

Cask.

Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common Herd was glad he refus'd the Crown, he pluckt me ope his Doublet, and offer'd them his Throat to cut; and I had been a Man of any Occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to Hell among the Rogues; and so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done, or said any thing amiss, he desir'd their Worships to think it was his Infirmity. Three or four Wenches where I stood, cryed, Alas, good Soul—and forgave him with all their Hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them; if Cæsar had stabb'd their Mothers, they would have done no less.

Bru.

And after that, he came, thus sad, away.

Cask.

Ay.

Cas.

Did Cicero say any thing?

Cask.

Ay, he spoke Greek.

Cas.

To what effect?

Cask.

Nay, and I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i'th' Face again. But those that understood him, smil'd at one another, and shook their Heads; but for mine own part it was Greek to me. I could tell you more News too: Murellus and Flavius, for pulling Scarffs off Cæsar's Images, are put to Silence. Fare you well. There was more Foolery yet, if I could remember it.

Cas.

Will you sup with me to Night, Caska?

Cask.

No, I am promis'd forth.

Cas.

Will you dine with me to Morrow?

Cask.

Ay, if I be alive, and your Mind hold, and your Dinner be worth the eating.

Cas.
Good, I will expect you.

Cask.
Do so: Farewel both. [Exit.

Bru.
What a blunt Fellow is this grown to be?
He was quick Mettel, when he went to School.

Cas.
So is he now, in Execution
Of any bold or noble Enterprize,
However he puts on this tardy Form:
This Rudeness is a Sawce to his good Wit,
Which gives Men stomach to digest his Words
With better Appetites.

Bru.
And so it is: For this time I will leave you.
To morrow, if you please to speak with me,
I will come home to you; or if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

Cas.
I will do so: 'till then, think of the World. [Exit Brutus.
Well Brutus, thou art Noble: Yet I see
Thy honourable Mettel may be wrought
From that it is dispos'd, therefore 'tis meet
That noble Minds keep ever with their likes:
For who so firm, that cannot be seduc'd?
Cæsar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus.
If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me. I will this Night,
In several Hands, in at his Windows throw,
As if they came from several Citizens,
Writings, all tending to the great Opinion
That Rome holds of his Name: Wherein obscurely
Cæsar's ambition shall be glanced at.
And after this, let Cæsar seat him sure,
For we will shake him, or worse days endure. [Exit. Thunder and Lightning. Enter Caska with his Sword drawn, and Cicero.

Cic.
Good Even, Caska; brought you Cæsar home?
Why are you breathless, and why stare you so?

Cask.
Are not you mov'd, when all the sway of Earth
Shakes, like a thing unfirm? O Cicero!
I have seen Tempests, when the scolding Winds
Have riv'd the knotty Oaks, and I have seen
Th' ambitious Ocean swell, and rage, and foam,
To be exalted with the threatning Clouds:

But never 'till to Night, never 'till now,
Did I go through a Tempest dropping Fire.
Either there is a Civil Strife in Heav'n,
Or else the World, too sawcy with the Gods,
Incenses them to send Destruction.

Cic.
Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

Cask.
A common Slave, you know him well by sight,
Held up his left Hand, which did flame and burn,
Like twenty Torches join'd; and yet his Hand,
Not sensible of Fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
Besides, I ha' not since put up my Sword,
Against the Capitol I met a Lion,
Who glaz'd upon me, and went surly by,
Without annoying me. And there were drawn
Upon a heap, a hundred ghastly Women,
Transformed with their fear, who swore, they saw
Men, all in fire, walk up and down the Streets.
And yesterday, the Bird of Night did sit,
Even at Noon-day, upon the Market place,
Houting and shrieking. When these Prodigies
Do so conjointly meet, let not Men say,
These are their Reasons, they are Natural:
For I believe, they are portentous things
Unto the Climate, that they point upon.

Cic.
Indeed, it is a strange disposed time:
But Men may construe things after their Fashion,
Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
Comes Cæsar to the Capitol to morrow?

Cask.
He doth: For he did bid Antonio
Send word to you, he would be there to morrow.

Cic.
Good Night then, Caska; this disturbed Sky
Is not to walk in.

Cask.
Farewel, Cicero. [Exit Cicero. Enter Cassius.

Cas.
Who's there?

Cask.
A Roman.

Cas.
Caska, by your Voice.

Cask.
Your Ear is good. Cassius, what Night is this?

Cas.
A very pleasing Night to honest Men.

Cask.
Who ever knew the Heav'ns menace so?

Cas.
Those that have known the Earth so full of Faults.
For my part I have walk'd about the Streets,
Submitting me unto the perillous Night;
And thus unbraced, Caska, as you see,
Have bar'd my Bosom to the Thunder-stone:
And when the cross blue Lightning seem'd to open
The Breast of Heav'n, I did present my self,
Even in the aim and very flash of it.

Cask.
But wherefore did you so much tempt the Heav'ns?
It is the part of Men to fear and tremble,
When the most mighty Gods, by tokens, send
Such dreadful Heralds, to astonish us.

Cas.
You are dull, Caska; and those sparks of Life
That should be in a Roman, you do want,
Or else you use not; You look pale, and gaze,
And put on fear, and cast your self in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the Heav'ns:
But if you would consider the true Cause,
Why all these Fires, why all these gliding Ghosts,
Why Birds and Beasts, from quality and kind,
Why old Men, Fools, and Children calculate;
Why all these things change from their Ordinance,
Their Natures, and pre-formed Faculties,
To monstrous quality; why, you shall find,
That Heav'n hath infus'd them with these Spirits,
To make them instruments of fear and warning,
Unto some monstrous State.
Now could I, Caska, name to thee a Man,
Most like this dreadful Night,
That Thunders, Lightens, opens Graves, and roars,
As doth the Lion in the Capitol;
A Man no mightier than thy self, or me,
In personal Action; yet prodigious grown,
And fearful, as these strange Eruptions are.

Cask.
'Tis Cæsar that you mean; is it not, Cassius?

Cas.
Let it be who it is: For Romans now
Have Thewes and Limbs like to their Ancestors;
But woe the while, our Fathers Minds are dead,
And we are govern'd with our Mothers Spirits,
Our Yoke and Sufferance shew us womanish.

Cask.
Indeed, they say, the Senators, to morrow,
Mean to establish Cæsar as a King:
And he shall wear his Crown by Sea, and Land,
In every Place, save here in Italy.

Cask.
I know where I will wear this Dagger then;
Cassius from Bondage will deliver Cassius.
Therein, ye Gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye Gods, you Tyrants do defeat:
Nor stony Tower, nor Walls of beaten Brass,
Nor airless Dungeon, nor strong Links of Iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of Spirit:
But Life, being weary of these worldly Bars,
Never lacks Power to dismiss it self.
If I know this, know all the World besides,
That part of Tyranny, that I do bear,
I can shake off at pleasure.

Cask.
So can I:
So every Bondman in his own Hand bears
The power to cancel his Captivity.

Cas.
And why should Cæsar be a Tyrant then?
Poor Man, I know he would not be a Wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but Sheep;
He were no Lion, were not Romans Hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty Fire,
Begin it with weak Straws. What trash is Rome?
What Rubbish, and what Offal? when it serves
For the base Matter, to illuminate
So vile a thing as Cæsar. But, oh Grief!
Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this
Before a willing Bondman: Then I know
My answer must be made. But I am arm'd,
And Dangers are to me indifferent.

Cask.
You speak to Caska, and to such a Man,
That is no flearing Tell-tale. Hold, my Hand:
Be factious for redress of all these Griefs,
And I will set this Foot of mine as far,
As who goes farthest.

Cas.
There's a Bargain made.
Now know you, Caska, I have mov'd already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans,

To under-go, with me, an Enterprize,
Of honourable dangerous Consequence;
And I do know, by this they stay for me
In Pompey's Porch; for now this fearful Night,
There is no stir, or walking in the Streets,
And the Complexion of the Element
Is Feav'rous, like the work we have in hand,
Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. Enter Cinna.

Cask.
Stand close a while, for here comes one in haste.

Cas.
'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his Gate,
He is a Friend. Cinna, where haste you so?

Cin.
To find out you: Who's that, Metellus Cimber?

Cas.
No, it is Caska, one incorporate
To our Attempts. Am I not staid for, Cinna?

Cin.
I am glad on't. What a fearful Night is this?
There's two or three of us have seen strange Sights.

Cas.
Am I not staid for? tell me.

Cin.
Yes, you are.
O Cassius! If you could but win the noble Brutus
To our Party—

Cas.
Be you content. Good Cinna take this Paper,
And look you lay it in the Prætors Chair,
Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this
In at his Window; set this up with Wax
Upon old Brutus Statue: All this done,
Repair to Pompey's Porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius there?

Cin.
All, but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone
To seek you at your House. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these Papers as you bad me.

Cas.
That done, repair to Pompey's Theater. [Exit Cinna.
Come Caska, you and I will, yet, e'er Day,
See Brutus at his House; three parts of him
Is ours already, and the Man entire,
Upon the next Encounter, yields him ours.

Cask.
O, he sits high in all the Peoples Hearts:
And that which would appear Offence in us,
His Countenance, like richest Alchymy,
Will change to Virtue, and to Worthiness,

Cas.
Him, and his Worth, and our great need of him,
You have right well conceited; let us go,
For it is after Mid-night, and e'er Day,
We will awake him, and be sure of him. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. SCENE A Garden.

Enter 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.

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
Remorse from Power: And to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known, when his Affections sway'd,
More than his Reason. But 'tis a common 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 base 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, as 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,
It did not lye there, when I went to Bed. [Gives him the Letter.

Bru.
Get you to Bed again, it is not Day:
Is not to Morrow, Boy, the first 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 thy self:
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. Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, March is wasted fifteen Days. [Knock within.

Bru.
'Tis good. Go to the Gate, some body knocks:
Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,

I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the Interim is
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. Enter Lucius.

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

Bru.
Is he alone?

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

Bru.
Do you know them?

Luc.
No, Sir, their Hats are pluck'd about their Ears,
And half their Faces buried in their Cloaths,
That by no means I may discover them,
By any mark of 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:
For if thou path, thy native Semblance on,
Not Erebus it self were dim enough,
To hide thee from Prevention. Enter Cassius, Caska, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

Cas.
I think we are too bold upon your Rest;
Good Morrow, Brutus, do we trouble you?

Bru.
I have been up this hour, awake all Night:
Know I these Men, that come along with you? [Aside.

Cas.
Yes, every Man of them; and no Man here
But honours you: And every one doth wish,
You had but that Opinion of your self,
Which every Noble Roman bears of you.
This is Trebonius.

Bru.
He is welcome hither.

Cas.
This, Decius Brutus.

Bru.
He is welcome too.

Cas.
This Caska; this, Cinna;
And this Metellus Cimber.

Bru.
They are all welcome.
What watchful Cares do interpose themselves,
Betwixt your Eyes and Night?

Cas.
Shall I intreat a word? [They whisper.

Dec.
Here lies the East: Doth not the Day break here?

Cask.
No.

Cin.
O pardon, Sir, it doth, and you grey Lines,
That fret the Clouds, are Messengers of Day.

Cask.
You shall confess that you are both deceiv'd:
Here as I point my Sword, the Sun arises,
Which is a great way growing on the South,
Weighing the youthful Season of the Year.
Some two Months hence, up higher toward the North
He first presents his fire, and the high East
Stands as the Capitol, directly here.

Bru.
Give me your Hands all over, one by one.

Cas.
And let us swear our Resolution.

Bru.
No, not an Oath: If not the Face of Men,
The Sufferance of our Souls, the Time's abuse,
If these be Motives weak, break off betimes,
And ev'ry Man hence, to his idle Bed:
So let high-sighted Tyranny range on,
'Till each Man drop by Lottery. But if these,
As I am sure they do, bear Fire enough
To kindle Cowards, and to steel with Valour
The melting Spirits of Women; then, Countrymen,
What need we any spur, but our own Cause
To prick us to redress? What other Bond,
Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,
And will not palter? And what other Oath,
Than Honesty to Honesty engag'd,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it.
Swear Priests, and Cowards, and Men cautelous,
Old feeble Carrions, and such suffering Souls
That welcome wrongs: Unto bad Causes, swear
Such Creatures as Men doubt; but do not stain
The even Virtue of our Enterprize,
Nor th'insuppressive Mettle of our Spirits,

To think, that or our Cause, or our Performance,
Did need an Oath. When every drop of Blood
That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a several Bastardy,
If he doth break the smallest Particle
Of any Promise, that hath past from him.

Cas.
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.

Cask.
Let us not leave him out.

Cin.
No, by no means.

Met.
O let us have him, for his Silver Hairs
Will purchase us a good Opinion,
And buy Mens Voices, to commend our Deeds:
It shall be said, his Judgment rul'd our Hands;
Our Youths, and Wildness, shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his Gravity.

Bru.
O name him not; let us not break with him,
For he will never follow any thing
That other Men begin.

Cas.
Then leave him out.

Cask.
Indeed, he is not fit.

Dec.
Shall no Man else be touch'd, but only Cæsar?

Cas.
Decius, well urg'd; I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Cæsar,
Should out-live Cæsar: we shall find of him
A shrewd Contriver. And you know, his means,
If he improve them, may well stretch so far,
As to annoy us all; which to prevent,
Let Antony and Cæsar fall together.

Bru.
Our Course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
To cut the Head off, and then hack the Limbs;
Like wrath in Death, and Envy afterwards:
For Antony is but a Limb of Cæsar.
Let's be Sacrificers, but not Butchers, Cassius:
We all stand up against the Spirit of Cæsar,
And in the Spirit of Men, there is no Blood:
O that we then could come by Cæsar's Spirits,
And not dismember Cæsar! but, alas!
Cæsar must bleed for it. And, gentle Friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him, as a Dish fit for the Gods,

Not hew him as a Carkass fit for Hounds;
And let our Hearts, as subtle Masters do,
Stir up their Servants to an act of Rage,
And after seem to chide them. This shall make
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:
Which so appearing to the common Eyes,
We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cæsar's Arm,
When Cæsar's Head is off.

Cas.
Yet I fear him;
For in the ingrafted Love he bears to Cæsar—

Bru.
Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
If he love Cæsar, all that he can do
Is to himself, take thought, and die for Cæsar.
And that were much he should; for he is giv'n
To Sports, to Wildness, and much Company.

Treb.
There is no fear in him; let him not dye,
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes.

Bru.
Peace, count the Clock.

Cas.
The Clock hath stricken three.

Treb.
'Tis time to part.

Cas.
But it is doubtful yet,
Whether Cæsar will come forth to Day, or no:
For he is Superstitious grown of late,
Quite from the main Opinion he held once,
Of Fantasie, of Dreams, and Ceremonies:
It may be, these apparent Prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this Night,
And the persuasion of his Augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to Day.

Dec.
Never fear that; if he be so resolv'd,
I can o'er-sway him; for he loves to hear,
That Unicorns may be betray'd with Trees,
And Bears with Glasses, Elephants with Holes,
Lions with Toils, and Men with Flatterers.
But, when I tell him, he hates Flatterers,
He says, he does; being then most flattered.
Let me work:
For I can give his Humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the Capitol.

Cas.
Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

Bru.
By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost?

Cin.
Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Met.
Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hatred,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;
I wonder none of you have thought of him.

Bru.
Now good Metellus go along by him:
He loves me well; and I have giv'n him Reasons,
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Cas.
The Morning comes upon's; we'll leave you, Brutus,
And Friends disperse your selves; but all remember,
What have you said, and shew your selves true Romans.

Bru.
Good Gentlemen, look fresh and merrily,
Let not our Looks put on our Purposes,
But bear it as our Roman Actors do,
With untir'd Spirits, and formal Constancy;
And so good Morrow to you every one. [Exeunt. Manet Brutus.
Boy! Lucius! fast asleep? It is no matter,
Enjoy the Hony-heavy-dew of Slumber:
Thou hast no Figures, nor no Fantasies,
Which busie Care draws in the Brains of Men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. Enter Portia.

Por.
Brutus, my Lord!

Bru.
Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now?
It is not for your Health thus to commit
Your weak Condition to the raw cold Morning.

Por.
Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my Bed: And yesternight at Supper
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Musing, and sighing, with your Arms a-cross:
And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You star'd upon me with ungentle Looks.
I urg'd you further, then you scratch'd your Head,
And too impatiently stamp'd with your Foot:
Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,
But with an angry wafture of your Hand
Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did,
Fearing to strengthen that Impatience,
Which seem'd too much inkindled; and withal,

Hoping it was but an effect of Humour,
Which sometime hath his Hour with every Man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;
And could it work so much upon your Shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your Condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear, my Lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of Grief.

Bru.
I am not well in Health, and that is all.

Por.
Brutus is wise, and were he not in Health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.

Bru.
Why so I do: Good Portia, go to Bed.

Por.
Is Brutus sick? And is it Physical
To walk unbraced, and suck up the Humours
Of the dank Morning? What, is Brutus sick?
And will he steal out of his wholsom Bed,
To dare the vile Contagion of the Night?
And tempt the Rheumy and unpurged Air,
To add unto his Sickness? No, my Brutus,
You have some sick Offence within your Mind,
Which, by the Right and Vertue of my Place,
I ought to know of: And upon my Knees,
I charm you, by my once commended Beauty,
By all your Vows of Love, and that great Vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, your self, your half;
Why you are heavy, and what Men, to Night,
Have had resort to you; for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their Faces
Even from darkness.

Bru.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.

Por.
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the Bond of Marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted, I should know no Secrets
That appertain to you? Am I your self,
But as it were in sort, or Limitation?
To keep with you at Meals, Comfort your Bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the Suburbs
Of your good Pleasure? If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus Harlot, not his Wife.

Bru.
You are my true and honourable Wife,
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops

That visit my sad Heart.

Por.
If this were true, then should I know this Secret.
I grant I am a Woman; but withal,
A Woman that Lord Brutus took to Wife:
I grant I am a Woman; but withal,
A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter.
Think you, I am no stronger than my Sex,
Being so father'd, and so husbanded?
Tell me your Counsels, I will not disclose them:
I have made strong proof of my Constancy,
Giving my self a voluntary Wound
Here, in the Thigh: Can I bear that with patience.
And not my Husband's Secrets?

Bru.
O ye Gods!
Render me worthy of this Noble Wife. [Knock.
Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia, go in a while,
And, by and by, thy Bosom shall partake
The Secrets of my Heart.
All my Engagements I will construe to thee,
All the Charactery of my sad Brows:
Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia. Enter Lucius and Ligarius.
Lucius, who's that knocks?

Luc.
Here is a sick Man that would speak with you.

Bru.
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?

Cai.
Vouchsafe good Morrow from a feeble Tongue.

Bru.
O what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a Kerchief? Would you were not sick,

Cai.
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any Exploit worthy the name of Honour.

Bru.
Such an Exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you an healthful Ear to hear of it.

Cai.
By all the Gods that Romans bow before,
I here discard my Sickness. Soul of Rome,
Brave Son, deriv'd from honourable Loins,
Thou like an Exorcist, hast conjur'd up
My mortified Spirit. Now bid me run,
And I will strive with things impossible,
Yea get the better of them. What's to do?

Bru.
A piece of work, that will make sick Men whole.

Cai.
But are not some whole that we must make sick?

Bru.
That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going,
To whom it must be done.

Cai.
Set on your Foot,
And with a Heart new fir'd, I follow you,
To do I know not what: But it sufficeth
That Brutus leads me on. [Thunder.

Bru.
Follow me then. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Cæsar's Palace. Thunder and Lightning. Enter Julius Cæsar in his Night-Gown.

Cæs.
Nor Heav'n, nor Earth, have been at Peace to Night:
Thrice hath Calphurnia in her Sleep cry'd out;
Help, ho; they murder Cæsar. Who's within? Enter a Servant.

Ser.
My Lord.

Cæs.
Go, bid the Priests do present Sacrifice,
And bring me their Opinions of Success.

Ser.
I will, my Lord. [Exit. Enter Calphurnia.

Cal.
What mean you, Cæsar? Think you to walk forth?
You shall not stir out of your House to Day.

Cæs.
Cæsar shall forth; the things that threatned me,
Ne'er lookt but on my Back: When they shall see
The Face of Cæsar, they are vanished.

Cal.
Cæsar, I never stood on Ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me: There is one within,
Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the Watch.
A Lioness hath whelped in the Streets,
And Graves have yawn'd and yielded up their dead;
Fierce fiery Warriors fight upon the Clouds,
In Ranks and Squadrons, and right form of War,
Which drizzled Blood upon the Capitol:
The noise of Battel hurried in the Air,
Horses did neigh, and dying Men did groan,
And Ghosts did shriek and squeal about the Streets.

O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.

Cæs.
What can be avoided
Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty Gods?
Yet Cæsar shall go forth: For these Predictions
Are to the World in general, as to Cæsar.

Cal.
When Beggars die there are no Comets seen,
The Heav'ns themselves blaze forth the death of Princes.

Cæs.
Cowards die many times before their Deaths,
The Valiant never taste of Death but once:
Of all the Wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that Men should fear,
Seeing that Death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come. Enter a Servant.
What say the Augurers?

Ser.
They would not have you to stir forth to Day.
Plucking the Entrails of an Offering forth,
They could not find a Heart within the Beast.

Cæs.
The Gods do this in shame of Cowardise:
Cæsar should be a Beast without a Heart,
If he should stay at home to Day for fear:
No, Cæsar shall not; Danger knows full well,
That Cæsar is more dangerous than he.
We heard two Lions litter'd in one Day,
And I the elder and more terrible;
And Cæsar shall go forth.

Cal.
Alas, my Lord,
Your Wisdom is consum'd in Confidence:
Do not go forth to Day; call it my Fear,
That keeps you in the House, and not your own.
We'll send Mark Antony to the Senate-house,
And he shall say you are not well to Day:
Let me, upon my Knee, prevail in this.

Cæs.
Mark Antony shall say I am not well,
And for thy Humour, I will stay at home. Enter Decius.
Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.

Dec.
Cæsar, all hail! Good Morrow, worthy Cæsar,
I come to fetch you to the Senate-house.

Cæs.
And you are come in very happy time,
To bear my Greeting to the Senators,
And tell them that I will not come to Day:
Cannot is false, and that I dare not, falser;
I will not come to Day; tell them so, Decius.

Cal.
Say he is sick.

Cæs.
Shall Cæsar send a Lie?
Have I in Conquest stretcht mine Arm so far,
To be afraid to tell Grey-beards the Truth?
Decius, go tell them Cæsar will not come.

Dec.
Most mighty Cæsar, let me know some Cause,
Lest I be laught at when I tell them so.

Cæs.
The Cause is in my Will, I will not come;
That is enough to satisfie the Senate.
But for your private Satisfaction,
Because I love you, I will let you know.
Calphurnia here, my Wife, stays me at home:
She dreamt last Night she saw my Statue,
Which like a Fountain, with an hundred Spouts,
Did run pure Blood; and many lusty Romans
Came smiling, and did bathe their Hands in it:
And these does she apply, for Warnings and Portents,
And Evils imminent; and on her Knee
Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to Day.

Dec.
This Dream is all amiss interpreted,
It was a Vision fair and fortunate:
Your Statue spouting Blood in many Pipes,
In which so many smiling Romans bath'd,
Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
Reviving Blood, and that Great Men shall press
For Tinctures, Stains, Relicks, and Cognisance.
This, by Calphurnia's Dream is signified.

Cæs.
And this way have you well expounded it.

Dec.
I have, when you have heard what I can say;
And know it now, the Senate have concluded
To give this Day a Crown to mighty Cæsar.
If you shall send them Word you will not come,
Their Minds may change. Besides, it were a mock
Apt to be render'd, for some one to say,
Break up the Senate 'till another time,
When Cæsar's Wife shall meet with better Dreams:

If Cæsar hide himself, shall they not whisper,
Lo, Cæsar is afraid!
Pardon me, Cæsar, for my dear dear Love,
To your Proceeding, bids me tell you this:
And Reason to my Love is liable.

Cæs.
How foolish do your Fears seem now, Calphurnia!
I am ashamed I did yield to them.
Give me my Robe, for I will go. Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Caska, Trebonius, Cinna, and Publius.
And look where Publius is come to fetch me.

Pub.
Good Morrow, Cæsar.

Cæs.
Welcome, Publius.
What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too?
Good Morrow, Caska: Caius Ligarius,
Cæsar was ne'er so much your Enemy,
As that same Ague which hath made you lean,
What is't a Clock?

Bru.
Cæsar, 'tis strucken eight.

Cæs.
I thank you for your Pains and Courtesie. Enter Antony.
See Antony, that revels long a-nights,
Is not withstanding up. Good Morrow, Antony.

Ant.
So to most noble Cæsar.

Cæs.
Bid them prepare within:
I am to blame to be thus waited for.
Now Cinna; now Metellus; what, Trebonius!
I have an hour's talk in store for you,
Remember that you call on me to Day,
Be near me, that I may remember you.

Treb.
Cæsar, I will; and so near will I be, [Aside.
That your best Friends shall wish I had been further.

Cæs.
Good Friends go in, and taste some Wine with me,
And we, like Friends, will straightway go together.

Bru.
That every like is not the same, O Cæsar,
The Heart of Brutus earns to think upon. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. The Street.

Enter Artimedorus reading a Paper.

Cæsar, beware of Brutus, take heed of Cassius, come not near Caska, have an Eye to Cinna, trust not Trebonius, mark well Metellus Cimber, Decius Brutus loves thee not; thou hast wrong'd Caius Ligarius. There is but one Mind in all these Men, and it is bent against Cæsar. If thou beest not Immortal, look about thee: Security gives way to Conspiracy. The mighty Gods defend thee.

Thy Lover Artemidorus.