So vile a thing as Cæfar? But, oh grief! Cafea. You fpeak to Cafca, and to fuch a man, And I will fet this foot of mine as far, Caf. There's a bargain made. Now know you, Cafea, I have mov'd already Is fev'rous, like the work we have in hand; Enter Cinna. Cafca, Stand close a while, for here comes one in haste. 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? To our attempts. Am I not ftaid for, Cinna? Cin. Yes, you are. O Caffius! could you win the noble Brutus To our party (5) Hold, my Hand.] This Comma must cer tainly be remov'd. Cafca bids Caffius take his Hand, as it were to bind their League and Amity. So afterwards, in this Play; Give me thy Hand, Meffala. Caf. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper; And look you lay it in the Prætor'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 house. Well, I will hie, And fo bestow these papers, as you bade me. Caf. That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre. [Exit Cinna. Come, Cafca, you and I will, yet, ere day, Upon the next encounter yields him ours. Cafca. O, he fits high in all the people's hearts Caf. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him, You have right well conceited; let us go, For it is after midnight; and, ere day, We will awake him, and be fure of him. [Exeunt, ACT BRUTUS. WHAT, Lucius! ho! I cannot by the progrefs of the ftars, 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 perfonal 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. Then, left he may, prevent. And fince the quarrel Will bear no colour, for the thing he is, 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: [Gives him the letter. (6) 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 first 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 mistaken a whole Fortnight in the Reckoning. I make no Scruple to affert, the Poet wrote Ides. But how could Ides, may it not be objected, be corrupted into firft? What Similitude in the Traces of the Letters? This Difficulty may very eafily be folv'd, by only supposing 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 jft frequently stood for firft; and blunderingly thought that is was meant to do so too: and thence was deriv'd the Corruption 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 likewife ftarted this very Emendation, and commuicated it to me by Letter. Bru Bru. Look in the kalendar, and bring me word. Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air, [Exit. [Opens the letter, and reads. Brutus, thou fleep'ft; awake, and fee thyself: Such inftigations have been often dropt, 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, redress, am I entreated then To fpeak, and ftrike? O Rome! I make thee promise, Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus ! Enter Lucius. Luc. Sir, March is wafted fourteen days. (7) [knocks within. Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate; fome body knocks: [Exit Lucius. Since Caffius firft did whet me against Cafar, Between the acting of a dreadful thing, Enter Lucius. Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Caffius at the door, (7) Sir, March is wafted fifteen days.] The Editors are slightly miftaken: It was wafted but 14 Days; this was the Dawn of the 15th, when the Boy makes his Report. 3 Whe |