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 friend that loves you.

Bru.
Cassius,
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;
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 farther 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 itself,
But by reflexion from 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 myself,
For that which is not in me?

Cas.
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;
And since you know, you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself, 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 myself 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 aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and Death i'th' other,

^{2 note}

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 myself.
I was born free as Cæsar, so were you;
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
&wlquo;^{3 note}

&wlquo;Cæsar says to me, dar'st thou, Cassius, now
&wlquo;Leap in with me into this angry flood,
&wlquo;And swim to yonder point?—Upon the word,
&wlquo;Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
&wlquo;And bid him follow; so, indeed, he did.
&wlquo;The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
&wlquo;With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,
&wlquo;And stemming it with hearts of controversie.
&wlquo;But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,&wrquo;
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 carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever 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;
^{4 note}His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that same eye, whose Bend doth awe the world,
Did lose its lustre; I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cry'd—give me some drink, Titinius—
As a sick girl. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
&wlquo;So ^{5 note}get the start of the majestick world,

&wlquo;And bear the Palm alone.&wrquo; [Shout. Flourish

Bru.
Another general shout!
I do believe, that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.

&plquo;Cas.
&plquo;Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
&plquo;Like a Colossus; and we petty men
&plquo;Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
&plquo;To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
&plquo;Men at sometimes are masters of their fates:
&plquo;The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
&plquo;But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
&plquo;Brutus and Cæsar! what should be in that Cæsar?
&plquo;Why should that name be sounded, more than yours?
&plquo;Write them together; yours is as fair a name:
&plquo;Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
&plquo;Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
&plquo;Brutus will start a spirit, as soon as Cæsar.
&plquo;Now in the names of all the Gods at once,
&plquo;Upon what meat does this our Cæsar feed,
&plquo;That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd;
&plquo;Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods.
&plquo;When went there by an age, since the great flood,
&plquo;But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
&plquo;When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome,
&plquo;That her wide walls incompass'd but one man?&prquo;
Now is it Rome, indeed; and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
Oh! 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 things.
'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.

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