Adras. Fools! did they deem

Its worst accomplishment could match the ill

Which they wrought on me? It had left unharmed
A thousand ecstasies of passioned years,

Which, tasted once, live ever, and disdain
Fate's iron grapple!

Could I now behold

That son with knife uplifted at my heart,
A moment ere my life-blood followed it,
I would embrace him with my dying eyes,
And pardon destiny! While jocund smiles
Wreathed on the infant's face, as if sweet spirits
Suggested pleasant fancies to its soul,

The ruffians broke upon us; seized the child;
Dashed through the thicket to the beetling rock
'Neath which the deep sea eddies; I stood still
As stricken into stone: I heard him cry,
Pressed by the rudeness of the murderer's gripe,
Severer ill unfearing-then the splash

Of waters that shall cover him for ever;

And could not stir to save him!

Ion. And the mother

Adras. She spake no word, but clasped me in her arms, And lay her down to die. A lingering gaze Of love she fixed on me-none other loved, And so passed hence. By Jupiter, her look! Her dying patience glimmers in thy face! She lives again! she looks upon me now! There's magic in 't. Bear with me-I am childish.

Enter CRYTHES and GUARDS.

Adras. Why art thou here?

Cry. The dial points the hour.

Adras. Dost thou not see that horrid purpose passed?

Hast thou no heart-no sense?

Cry. Scarce half an hour

Hath flown since the command on which I wait.

Adras. Scarce half an hour!-years-years have rolled

since then.

Begone, remove that pageantry of death

It blasts my sight-and hearken! Touch a hair
Of this brave youth, or look on him as now-

With thy cold headsman's eye, and yonder band
Shall not expect a fearful show in vain.

Hence! without a word.

What would'st thou have me do?

[Exit CRYTHES.

Ion. Let thy awakened heart speak its own language;
Convene thy sages;-frankly, nobly meet them;
Explore with them the pleasure of the gods,
And, whatsoe'er the sacrifice, perform it.

Adras. Well! I will seek their presence in an hour;
Go summon them, young hero: hold! no word
Of the strange passion thou hast witnessed here.

Ion. Distrust me not.-Benignant Powers, I thank ye!

TALFOURD.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

First Selection.

Enter CASCA and CASSIUS.

Cas. Who's there?

Casca. A Roman.

Cas. Casca, by your voice.

Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this? Cas. A very pleasant night to honest men.

Casca. Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

Cas. Those that have known the earth so full of faults.

For my part, I have walked about the streets,

Submitting me unto the perilous night;

And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,

Have bared my bosom to the thunder stone:

And when the cross-blue lightning seemed to open

The breast of heaven, I did present myself,

Even in the aim and very flash of it.

Casca. But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens ?

It is the part of men to fear and tremble,

When the most mighty gods, by tokens send

Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

Cas. You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of life

That should be in a Roman, you do want,
Or else you use not: you look pale, and gaze,
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
But if you would consider the true cause
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind;
Why old men, fools, and children calculate;
Why all these things change from their ordinance,
Their natures, and pre-formed faculties,

To monstrous quality,-why, you shall find,
That heaven hath infused them with these spirits,
To make them instruments of fear and warning
Unto some monstrous state.

Now, could I, Casca, name to thee a man

Most like this dreadful night;

That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars

As doth the lion in the capitol :

A man no mightier than thyself, or me,

In personal action; yet prodigious grown,
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

Casca. 'Tis Cæsar that you mean: Is it not, Cassius?
Cas. Let it be who it is: for Romans now

Have thewes and limbs like to their ancestors,
But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,
And we are governed with our mothers' spirits;
Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

Casca. Indeed, they say the senators to-morrow
Mean to establish Cæsar as a king :

And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
In every place, save here in Italy.

Cas. I know where I will wear this dagger then ;
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius :

Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit:
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny that I do bear,

I can shake off at pleasure.

So

Casca. So can I :

every

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

Cas. And why should Cæsar be a tyrant then?
Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds,
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws: What trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Cæsar! But, O, grief!
Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this
Before a willing bondman: then I know
My answer must be made: but I am armed,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

Casca. You speak to Casca: and to such a man
That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold my hand :
Be factious for redress of all these griefs;
And I will set this foot of mine as far
As who goes farthest.

Cas. There's a bargain made.

Now, know you, Casca, I have moved already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans,
To undergo with me an enterprise

Of honourable dangerous consequence;
And I do know by this they stay for me
In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night,
There is no stir or walking in the streets;
And the complexion of the element

In favour's, like the work we have in hand,

Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

Enter CINNA.

Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

Cas. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait;

He is a friend.—Cinna, where haste you so?

Cin. To find out you: Who's that, Metellus Cimber? Cas. No, it is Casca; one incorporate

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

Cin. I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. Cas. Am I not staid for? Tell me.

Cin. Yes, you are.

O Cassius, if you could but win the noble Brutus
To our party.

Cas. 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: set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,

Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Are Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

Cin. All, but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

[Exit CINNA.

Come Casca, 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.

Casca. O he sits 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.

Cas. 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 sure of him.

SHAKESPERE.