ACT

II.

SCENE, BRUTUS's Garden:

W

Enter Brutus.

BRUTUS.

HAT, Lucius! ho!

I cannot by the progress of the stars,
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:

-that

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-
And then I grant we put a fting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abuse of Greatness is, when it disjoins

Remorse from Power: and, to speak truth of Cefar
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reafon. But 'tis a common proof,
That lowlinefs 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 afcend: 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 mifchie

vous;

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 letters
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 1s 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 easily be solv'd, by only fuppofing that the Word Ides in the Manuscript 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 so well informed in it: They knew, that jft frequently food for first; and blun deringly thought that js was meant to do fo 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 Cafar 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 likewise started this very. Emendation, and communicated 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 fo much light, that I may read by them.

[Exit.

[Opens the letter, and reads.

Brutus, thon fleep'ft; awake, and fee thy felf:

Shall Rome,

-Speak, frike, redress.

Brutus, thou fleep'ft: awake.

Such inftigations have been often dropt,

Where I have took them up::

Shall Rome-thus muft 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, frike, redress,

-am I entreated then

To fpeak, and ftrike? O Rome! I make thee promise, If the redrefs will follow, thou receiv'st

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 Cæfar,
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 flightly mistaken: It was wafted but 14 Days; this was the Dawn of the 15th, when the Boy makes his Report.

Who

Who doth defire to see you.

Bru. Is he alone?

Luc. No, Sir, there are more with him.

Bru. Do you know them?

Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt âbout their ears, And half their faces buried in their Cloaks;

That by no means I may discover them

By any mark of favour.

Bru. Let them enter.

They are the faction. O Confpiracy!

[Exit Lucius.

Sham'ft thou to fhew thy dang'rous brow by night,

When Evils are most free? O then, by day

Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough,

To mask thy monftrous vifage? feek none, Confpiracy; Hide it in Smiles and Affability:

For if thou path, thy native femblance on,

Not Erebus it felf were dim enough

To hide thee from prevention.

Enter Caffius, Cafca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

Caf. I think, we are too bold upon your Reft; Good morrow, Brutus, do we trouble you?

Bru. I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men, that come along with you? [Afide. Caf. Yes, every man of them; and no man here, But honours you: and every one doth wish,

You had but that opinion of your felf,

Which every noble Roman bears of you.

This is Trebonius.

Bru. He is welcome hither.

Caf. This, Decius Brutus.

Bru. He is welcome too.

Caf. This, Cafca; this, Cinna ;

And this, Metellus Cimber.

Bru. They are all welcome.

What watchful cares do interpose themselves

Betwixt your eyes and night?

Caf. Shall I entreat a word?

[They whisper.

Dec. Here lies the East: doth not the day break

here?

VOL. VII.

B

Cafea.

4

Cafca. No.

Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey lines, That fret the Clouds, are meffengers of day.

Cafca. You fhall confefs, that you are both deceiv'd:
Here, as I point my fword, the Sun arifes,
Which is a great way growing on the South,
Weighing the youthful season of the year.
Some two months hence, up higher toward the North
He first prefents his fire; and the high East
Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.

Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one.
Caf. And let us swear our refolution.

Bru. No, not an oath: if that the face of men,
The fufferance of our fouls, the time's abuse,
If these be motives weak, break off betimes;
And ev'ry man hence to his idle bed:
So let high-fighted tyranny range on,
'Till each man drop by lottery. But if these,
As I am fure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to fteel with valour
The melting fpirits of women; then, countrymen,
What need we any fpur, but our own cause,
To prick us to redrefs? what other bond,
Than fecret Romans, that have spoke the word,
And will not palter? and what other oath,
Than honefty to honefty engag'd,

That this fhall be, or we will fall for it?

Swear priefts, and cowards, and men cautelous
Old feeble carrions, and fuch fuffering fouls
That welcome wrongs: unto bad causes, swear
Such creatures as men doubt; but do not ftain
The even virtue of our enterprize,

Nor th' infuppreffive mettle of our fpirits;

To think, that or our cause, or our performance,
Did need an oath : When ev'ry drop of blood,
That ev'ry Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a feveral baftardy,

If he doth break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath paft from him.

Caf. But what of Cicero? fhall we found him?

I think,