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The Barren, touched in this holy Chafe,
Shake off their fterile Curfe.

Ant. I fhall remember,

When Cafar fays, do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on, and leave no Ceremony out.
Scoth. Cafar,-

Caf. Ha! who calls?

Cafe. Bid every noise be still; peace yet again.
Caf. Who is it in the prefs, that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the mufick,
Cry, Cafar. Speak; Cafar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.
Caf. What man is that?

Bru. A footh-fayer bids you beware the Ides of March.
Caf. Set him before me, let me fee his face.

Cafe. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cafar. Caf. What fay't thou to me now? speak once again. Saath Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; país.

[Exeunt Cæfar and Train.

Manent Brutus and Caffius.

Caf. Will you go see the order of the Course ?
Bru. Not I.

Caf. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack fome part
Of that quick fpirit that is in Antony:

Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;
I'll leave you.

Caf. Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And fhew of love, as I was wont to have;
You bear too stubborn and too frange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance

Meerly upon myfelf. Vexed I am,

Of late, with paffions of fome difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;

Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:

But

But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one;
Nor conftrue any farther my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion By means whereof, this breaft of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you

fee your

face ?
Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not itself,
But by reflexion from fome other things.
Caf. 'Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
'That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthinefs into your eye,
That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best refpect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæfar) 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, Caffius, That you would have me feek into myself.

For that which is not in me ?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd' to hear; And fince you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,

Will modeftly discover to yourself

That of yourself, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus,
Were I a common laughter, and did use
To ftale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new proteftor; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you
That I profefs myfelf in banquetting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

know,

Flourish and bout. Bru. What means this fhouting I do fear, the People

Chufe Cæfar for their King.

Caf. Ay, do you fear it F

A 5

Then

Then muft I think, you would not have it fo.
Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well:
But wherefore do you hold me here fo 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,
And I will look on Death indifferently: (3)
For let the Gods fo fpeed me, as I love
The name of Honour, more than I fear Death..
Caf. 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: T
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my fingle felf,.
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of fuch a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Cafar, fo were you ;
We Both have fed as well; and we can Both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
For once upon a raw and gufty day, (4)

The

(3) And I will look on both indifferently;] What a contradiction to this, are the lines immediately fucceeding? If he lov'd Honour, more than he fear'd Death, how could they be both indifferent to bim? Honour thus is but in equal balance to Death, which is not fpeaking at all like Brutus: for, in a foldier of any ordinary pretenfion, it should always preponderate. We must certainly read,

And I will look on Death indifferently.

What occafion'd the corruption, I prefume, was, the transcribers imagining the adverb indifferently must be applied to two things oppos'd. But the ufe of the word does not demand it; nor does Shakespeare always apply it fo. In the prefent paffage it fignifies neglectingly; without Fear, or Concern: And fo Cafca afterwards, again in this A&, employs it.

And dangers are to me indifferent.

i. e. I weigh them not; am not deterr'd on the score of danger. Mr. Warburton.

(4) For once upon a raw and gufly day,] This may, perhaps, appear a very odd amufement for two of the greatest men in Rome. But it appears, this was an ufual exercife for the nobility, that delighted in the hardy ufe of arms, and were not enervated, from this paffage of Horace, 1. i. Ode 8.

Cur timet flavum Tiberim tangere ?

Upon

The troubled Tiber, chafing with his fhores,
Cæfar fays to me, "Dar'ft thou, Caffius, 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 bid him follow; fo, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews; throwing it aside,
And ftemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cafar cry'd, " Help me, Caffius, or I fink."
I, as Eneas, our great Anceftor,

Did from the flames of Trey upon his shoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo, from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Cæfar: and this man

Is now become a God; and Caffius is

A wretched creature, and muft bend his body,
If Cæfar carelefly 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;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,

And that fame eye, whofe Bend doth awe the World,
Did lofe its luftre; I did hear him groan :
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his fpeeches in their books,
Alas! it cry'd, "give me fome drink, Titinius"-
As a fick girl. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of fuch a feeble temper fhould
So get the start of the majestick World,
And bear the Palm alone.

Bru. Another general shout!

I do believe, that thefe applaufes are

[Shout. Flourife.

For fome new honours that are heap'd on Cafar.
Caf. Why, man, he doth beftride the narrow world

Upon which Hermannus Figulus makes this comment: Natare. Nam
Romæ prima Adolefcentiæ juvenes, præter cæteras gymnafticas difci
plinas, etiam natare difcebant, ut ad belli munera firmiores aptiorefq;
effent. And he puts us in mind from Suetonius, how pert a swim-
mer Jul. Cafar was.
Mr. Warburton.

A 6

Like

Like a Coloffus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves difhonourable Graves.
Men at fome times are mafers of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our Stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cafar! what should be in that Cæfar?
Why should that name be founded, 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 foon as Cafar.
Now in the Names of all the Gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cafar feed,
That he is grown fo great? Age, thou art fham'd;
Rome, thou haft loft the breed of noble bloods.
When went there by an age, fince the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they fay, till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls incompafs'd but one man?
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 fay,
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
Th' eternal devil to keep his State in Rome,
As eafily as a King.

Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to, I have fome aim;
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I fhall recount hereafter: for this prefent,
I would not (fo with love I might intreat you)
Be any further mov'd. What you have faid,
I will confider; what you have to fay,
I will with patience hear; and find a time
Both meet to hear and anfwer fuch high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this;
Brutus had rather be a villager,

Than to repute himself a fon of Rome
Under fuch hard conditions, as this time
Is like to lay upon us.

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