« ZurückWeiter »
Bru. Do so; and let no man abide this deed, But we the Doers.
Cal. Where is Antony ?
Tre. Fled to his House amaz'd.
Men, wives, and children, ftare, cry out, and run,
As it were Dooms-day.
Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures ;
That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time,
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.
Caf. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
Bru. Grant That, and then is death a benefit : So are we Cesar's friends, that have abridg'd His time of fearing death. (11) Stoop, Romans, stoop; And let us bathe our hands in Cæfar's blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords ; Then walk we forth even to the Market-place,
(11) Stoop, Romans, ftoop, ] Mr. Pope, in both his Editions, has, from these Words, arbitrarily taken away the Remainder of this Speech from Brutus, and placed it to Eafca: because, he thinks, nothing is more inconfiftent with Brutus's mild and philosophical Character. And as he often finds Speeches in the Jater Editions, he says, put into wrong Mouths; he thinks, this Liberty is not unreasonable. 'Tis true, a diligent Editor may find many such Errors committed even in the firft prioted Copies; but it has not often been Mr. Pope's good Fortune to hit upon them. I dare warrant, the Printers made no Blunder in this Instance; and therefore I have made bold to restore the Speech to its right Owner. Brutus eftecm'd the Death of Cafar a Sacrifice to Liberty: and, as such, gloried in his heading the Enterprize. Besides, our Poet is striāly copying a Fa& in Hiftory. Plutarch, in the Life of Cafar, says, « Brutus and his “ Followers, being yet het with the Murther, march'd in a Body “ from the Senate-house to the Capitol, with their drawn Swords, « with an Air of Confidence and Assurance.” And, in the Life of Brutus, “ Brutus and his Party betook themselves to " the Capitol, and in their way shewing their Hands all bloody, " and their naked Swords, Pinsaim'd Liberty to the People.”.
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
“ peace! freedom! and liberty ! Caf. Stoop then, and wash-how many ages
[Dipping their swords in Cæsar's blood.
Shall this our lofty Scene be acted o'er,
In States unborn, and accents yet unknown ?
Bru. How many times shall Cæfar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's Basis lies along,
No worthier than the dust?
Caf. So oft as that shall be,
So often shall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.
Dec. What, shall we forth?
Caf. Ay, every man away.
Brutus snall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldeft, and belt hearts of Rome.
Enter a Servant.
Bru. Soft, who comes here ? A friend of Antony's.
Ser. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; [knecling!
And, being proftrate, thus he bad me say.
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant and honest ;
Cæfar was mighty, royal, bold and loving ;
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him ;
Say, I fear'd Cæfar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
May safely come to him, and be refoly'd
How Cæfar hath deserv'd to lie in death:
Mark Antony shall not love Cæfar dead,
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod State,
With all true faith. So says my master Antony.
Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman ;
I never thought him worfe.
Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour,
Serv. I'll fetch him presently.
Bru. I know, that we shall have him well to friend.
Caf. I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind, That fears him much ; and my misgiving still Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.
Enter Antony. Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark An
Ant. O mighty Cæfar! dost thou lye fo low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure ?- -fare thee well. 1
I know not, Gentlemen, what you intend,
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank;
If I myself, there is no hour so fit
As Cæsar's death's hour ; nor no instrument
Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.
I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard,
Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and smoak,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I Thall not find myself fo apt to die :
No place will please me fo, no meane of death,
As here by Cæfar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirits of this age.
Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us :
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands, and this our present act,
You see, we do; yet fee you but our hands,
And this the bleeding business they have done :
Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful ;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome
(As fire drives out fire, so pity, pity ;)
Hath done this deed on Cæfar: For your part,
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony;
Our arms exempt from malice ; and our hearts,
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Caf. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's
In the disposing of new dignities.
Bru. Only be patient, "till we have appeas'd
The multitude, beside themselves with fear;
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cæsar when I strook him,
Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand ;
Firft, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Cafus, do I take your hand ;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours ; now yours, Metellus ;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours ;
Tho' laft, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all- -alas, what shall I say?
My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.
That I did love thee, Cæfar, oh, 'tis true ;
If then thy spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Moft Noble! in the presence of thy corfe?
Had I as many eyes, as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better, than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius-here wast thou bay'd, brave hart;
Here didft thou fall, and here thy hunters ftand
Sign'd in thy spoil, (12) and crimson'd in thy death.
Oworld! thou wast the forest to this hart,
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
(12) And crimson'd in thy Death.] All the old copies, thas I have seen, read, Lethe. The Di&tionaries, indeed, acknowledge no such Word: and as the L might have mistakingly been form'd from an obscure D, not taking the Ink equally in all Parts, I have suffer'd the more known Word to ftand in the Text; tho', indeed, I am not without Suspicion of our Poet's having either coin'd the other Term, or copied it from some obsolete Author, who had adopted it from the Lethum of the Latines; which, 'tis well known, was usedf or Death, as well as Dernition, Ruin, Havock, &c.
How like a deer, stricken by many Princes,
Doft thou here lye?
Caf. Mark Antony
Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cafius : The enemies of Cæfar fhall say this : Then, in a friend, it is cold modetty.
Caf. I blame you not for praising Cefar fo, But what compact mean you to have with us? Will
you be prick'd in number of our friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you?
Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was, indeed, Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cæfar. Friends am I with you all, and love
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons,
Why, and wherein Cæfar was dangerous.
Bru. Or else this were a savage spectacle.
Our reasons are so full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the Son of Cæsar,
You should be satisfied.
Ant. That's all I seek;
And am moreover suitor, that I may
Produce his body to the market-place,
And in the Pulpit, as becomes a friend,
Speak in the order of his funeral.
Bru. You shall, Mark Antony.
Caf. Brutus, a word with you.
You know not what you do ; do not consent, [ Afde.
That Antony speak in his funeral :
Know you, how much the People may be mov'd
By That which he will utter?
Bru. By your pardon,
I will myself into the Pulpit first,
And shew the reason of our Cæsar's death.
What Antony shall speak, I will protest
He speaks by leave, and by permission ;
And that we are contented, Cæfar shall
Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies :
It shall advantage more, than do us wrong.
Caf. I know not what may fall, I like it not.
Brú. Mark Antony, here, take you Cæfar's body :