f

That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
I can fhake off at pleasure.
Cafca. So can Ir

So every bondman in his own hand bears
The power to cancel his captivity.

Caf. And why fhould Cæfar be a tyrant then
Poor man! I know, he would not be a wolf,
But that he fees, the Romans are but theep;
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with hafte will make a mighty fire,
Begin it with weak ftraws. What trash is Romo 20
What rubbish, and what offal? when it ferves
For the bafe matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Cæfar? But, oh grief!
Where haft 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.

Cafca. You fpeak to Cafea, and to fuch a man,
That is no flearing tell-tale. Hold my hand: (7)
Be factious for redrefs of all these griefs,
And I will fet this foot of mine as far,

As who goes fartheft.

Caf. There's a bargain made.

Now know you, Cafea, I have mov'd already
Some certain of the nobleft-minded Romans,
To undergo, with me, an enterprize
Of honourable dang'rous confequence;
And I do know, by this they stay for me
In Pompey's Porch. For now this fearful night,
There is no ftir, or walking in the streets;
And the complexion of the element

Is fev'rous, like the work we have in hand;
Moft bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

Enter Cinna.

Cafca. Stand close a while, for here comes one in hastë.

(7)

Hold, my band. This comma muft certainly be removed. Cafca bids Caffius take his hand, as it were to bind their league and amity. So afterwards, in this play ;

Give me thy hand, Meffalar.

Caf.

Caf. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait; He is a friend. Cinna, where hafte you fo?

Cin. To find out you: who's that, Metellus Cimber? Caf. No, it is Cofca, one incorporate

To our attempts. Am I not ftaid for, Cinna?

Cin. I'm glad on't. What a fearful night is this? There's two or three of us have seen strange fights. Caf. Am I not ftaid for? tell me.

Cin. Yes, you are.

Caffius! could you win the noble Brutus To our party

Caf. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper And look you lay it in the Prator's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window; fet this up with wax *Upon old Brutus' Statue: all this done, Repair to Pompey's porch, where you fhall find us. Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius there?

Cin. All, but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone To feek you at your houfe. Well, I will hie, And fo bestow these papers, as you bade me. Caf. That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre.

[Exit Cinna

Come, Cafea, you and I will, yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his house; three parts of him
Is ours already, and the man entire
Upon the next encounter yields him ours.
Cafea. O, he fits high in all the people's hearts:
And that which would appear offence in us,
His countenance, like richest alchymy,

Will change to virtue, and to worthiness.

Caf. 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, ere day,
We will awake him, and be fure of him.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT II.

SCENE, BRUTUS's Garden

Enter BRUTUS.

BRUTUS.

THAT, Lucius! ho!

I cannot by the progrefs of the stars
Give guess how near to day-Lucius, I fay!
I would, it were my fault to fleep fo foundly.
When, Lucius, when? awake, I fay! 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.

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-

[Exit.

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 fting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abuse of Greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorfe from Power: and, to speak truth of Cafar
I have not known when his affections fway'd
More than his reafon. But 'tis a common proof,
That lowlinefs 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, fcorning the base degrees
By which he did afcend: fo Cafar may:
Then, left he may, prevent. And fince the quarrel
Will bear no colour, for the thing he is,

Fashion

Talhion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these, and these extremities:
And therefore think him as a ferpent'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 feal'd up; and, I am fure, It did not lie 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 Ides of March? (8)
Luc. I know not, Sir.

Bru, Look in the kalendar, and bring me word.
Luc. I will, Sir.

Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give fo much light, that I may read by them.

[Exit,

[Opens the letter, and reads, Brutus, thou fleep'ft; awake, and fee thyself: Shall Rome, -Speak, frike, redress.

(8) Is not to-morrow, boy, the first of March ?] I dare pronounce a palpable blunder here, which none of the editors have ever been aware of. Brutus enquires whether the firft of March be come, and the boy brings him word 'tis wafted 15 days. Allowing Brutus to be a moft contemplative man, and his thoughts taken up with high matters, yet I can never agree, that he fo little knew how time went, as to be miftaken a whole fortnight in the reckoning. I make no fcruple to affert, the poet wrote Ides. But how could Ides, may it not be objected, be corrupted into firft? What fimilitude in the traces of the letters? This difficulty may very eafily be folv'd, by only fuppofing that the word Ides in the manufcript copy happen'd to be wrote contractedly thus, js: The players knew the word well enough in the contraction; but when the MSS came to the prefs, the compofitors were not fo well informed in it: They knew, that jst frequently stood for firft; and blunderingly thought that is was meant to do fo too: and thence was deriv'd the corrup tion of the text. But that the poet wrote Ides, we have this in confirmation. Brutus makes the enquiry on the dawn of the very day, in which Cæfar was kill'd in the Capitol. Now 'tis very well known, that this was on the 15th day, which is the Ides, of March. I ought to acknowledge, that my friend Mr. Warburton likewise started this very emendation, and communicated it to me by letter,

3

Brutus,

Brutus, thou eep'ft: awake.

Such inftigations have been often dropt,
Where I have took them up;

Shall Rome

thus must I piece it out,

Shall Rome ftand 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, ftrike, red: efs

am I entreated then

To fpeak, and ftrike? O Rome! I make thee promife, If the redrefs will follow, thou receiv'ft

Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus !

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, March is wafted fourteen days. (9)

[knocks within.

Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate; fome body knocks:

[Exit Lucius. Since Caffius firft did whet me against Cafar, (10) I have not flept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing,

And the first motion, all the interim is

(9) Sir, March is wafted fifteen days.] The editors are flightly' mistaken: It was wafted but 14 days; this was the dawn of the 15th, when the boy makes his report.

(10) Since Caffius first did whet me against Cæsar,

I bave not flept.]

This is not to be taken literally: but only that it had, at fits, broke his reft. Some readers might, perhaps, imagine, that (because Brutus, in his laft Scene with Caffius, faid, that he would on the morrow ftay at home for Caffius; and becaufe Caffius here comes home to him) this was the day immediately fucceeding that, on which Caffius open'd the fecret of the confpiracy to him. But, however any circumstances in any preceding lines may countenance fuch an opinion, it would be a great diminution to the fedate cha racter of Brutus, to be let into a plot of fuch serious moment one day, and to be ready to put it in execution on the next. The poet intended no fuch rafh conduct. We are to obferve, from the first Act, that Caffius open'd the plot to him on the Feast of the Lupercalia, which folemnity was held in February: and Cæfar was not affaffin'd, as has been obferv'd, till the middle of March. Some of the criticks, with what certainty I dare not pretend to fay, fix down this Feaft to the XVth before the calends of March; (i. e. the 15th of February) if fo, the interval betwixt that, and the time when Cæfar was murther'd, is 29 days.