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,
&plquo;That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
&plquo;Whereto the climber upward turns his face;
&plquo;But when he once attains the upmost round,
&plquo;He then unto the ladder turns his back,
&plquo;Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
&plquo;By which he did ascend: so Cæsar may:
&plquo;Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel
&plquo;Will bear no colour, for the thing he is,
&plquo;Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
&plquo;Would run to these, and these extremities:
&plquo;And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
&plquo;Which hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous:
&plquo;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 then
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—
&plquo;Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
&plquo;And the first motion, all the interim is
&plquo;Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
&plquo;The genius, and the mortal instruments
&plquo;Are then in council; and the state of man,
&plquo;Like to a little kingdom, suffers then,
&plquo;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—are pluckt 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 march, thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus it self were dim enough,
To hide thee from prevention.

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