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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.

Cafea. You fpeak to Cafca, and to fuch a man,
That is no flearing tell-tale. Hold my hand: (5)
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 moft terrible.

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?
Caf. No, it is Cafca, 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.

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.

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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,
See Brutus at his houfe; three parts of him.
Is ours already, and the man entire

Upon the next encounter yields him ours.

Cafca. 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 midnight; and, ere day,

We will awake him, and be fure of him.

[Exeunt,

ACT

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BRUTUS.

WHAT, Lucius! ho!

I cannot by the progrefs of the ftars,
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 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.
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 Greatnefs is, when it disjoins
Remorfe from Power: and, to speak truth of Cafar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reafon. But 'tis a common proof,
That lowliness 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 ascend: fo Cæfar may:

Then, left he may, prevent. And fince the quarrel

Will bear no colour, for the thing he is,
Fashion 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? (6)
Luc. I know not, Sir.

(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.
Luc. I will, Sir.

Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so 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, ftrike, redress.
Brutus, thou Sleep'ft: arake.

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, redress,

am I entreated then

To fpeak, and ftrike? O Rome! I make thee promise,
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. (7)

[knocks within.

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

[Exit Lucius.

Since Caffius firft did whet me against Cafar,
I have not flept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantafma, or a hideous dream:
The Genius, and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little Kingdom, fuffers then
The nature of an infurrection.

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

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