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And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the Gods, to intermit the plague,
That needs muft light on this ingratitude.
Flav. Go, go, good countrymen,
Affemble all the poor men of your fort;
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream
Do kifs the most exalted fhores of all.
[Exeunt Commoners. See, whe're their basest mettle be not mov'd; They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltinefs. Go you down that way tow'rds the Capitol, This way will I; difrobe the images, If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. Mar. May we do fo?
You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.
Flav. It is no matter, let no images
Be hung with Cafar's trophies; I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers, pluckt from Cafar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in fervile fearfulness. [Exeunt feverally.
Enter Cæfar, Antony, for the Course, Calphurnia, Porcia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothfayer.
Cafe. Peace, ho! Cæfar fpeaks.
Calp. Here, my lord.
Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his Course
Ant. Cafar, my lord.
Forget not in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calphurnia; for our Elders fay,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their fteril curfe.
Ant. I fhall remember.
When Cæfar fays, do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Caf. Ha! who calls?
every noise be still; peace yet again.
Caf. Who is it in the Prefs, that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the musick,
Cry, Cafar. Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.
Caf. What man is that?
Bru. A footh-fayer bids you beware the Ides of March.
Caf. Set him before me, let me see his face.
Caf. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cafar.
Caf. What fay'ft thou to me now? fpeak once again.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.
Caf. He is a dreamer, let us leave him; pafs.
Manent Brutus and Caffius.
Caf. Will you go fee the order of the Course ?
Bru. Not I.
Caf. I pray you, do.
Bru. I am not gamefom; I do lack fome part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony:
Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;
I'll leave you.
Caf. Brutus, I do obferve you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And fhew of love, as I was wont to have;
You bear too ftubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon myfelf. Vexed I am,
Of late, with paffions of fome difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;
Which give fome foil, perhaps, to my behaviour:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one;
Nor conftrue any farther my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.
Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion;
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you fee your face?
Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not itself,
But by reflexion from fome other things.
Caf. 'Tis juft.
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best refpect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cafar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoak,
Have wifh'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me feek into myself,
For that which is not in me?
Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;
And fince you know, you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,
Will modeftly discover to yourself
That of yourself, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To ftale with ordinary oaths my love
Το every new proteftor; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after fcandal them; or if you know,
That I profefs myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
[Flourish and fhout. Bru.
Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the People Chufe Cafar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it?
Then must I think, you would not have it fo.
Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well :
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it, that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set Honour in one eye, and Death i'th' other,
And I will look on Death indifferently: (3)
For, let the Gods fo speed me, as I love
The name of Honour, more than I fear Death.
Caf. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, Honour is the fubject of my story:-
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my fingle self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of fuch a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cafar, fo were you;
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
For once upon a raw and gufty day,
(3) And I will look on both indifferently;] What a Contradiction to this, are the Lines immediately fucceeding? If He lov'd Honour, more than he fear'd Death, how could they be both indifferent to him? Honour thus is but in equal Ballance to Death, which is not speaking at all like Brutus: for, in a Soldier of any ordinary Pretenfion, it should always preponderate. We must certainly read,
And I will look on Death indifferently.
What occafion'd the Corruption, I prefume, was, the Tranfcribers imagining, the Adverb indifferently must be applied to Two things oppos'd. But the Ufe of the Word does not demand it; nor does Shakespeare always apply it fo. In the prefent Paffage it fignifies, neglectingly; without Fear, or Concern: And to Cafca afterwards, again in this A&, employs it.
And Dangers are to me indifferent.
weigh them not; am not deterr'd on the Score of Danger, Mr. Warburton.
The troubled Tyber chafing with his fhores,
Cæfar fays to me, "darit thou, Caffius, now
-Upon the word,
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
"And swim to yonder point?-
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bid him follow; fo, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews; throwing it afide,
And stemming it with hearts of controverfie:
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæfar cry'd, " Help me, Caffius, or I fink."
I, as Eneas, our great Anceftor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his fhoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cafar: and this man
Is now become a God; and Caffius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæfar carelefly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this God did shake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that fame eye, whose Bend doth awe the world,
Did lofe its luftre; I did hear him groan :
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his fpeeches in their books,
Alas! it cry'd-"give me fome drink, Titinius-
As a fick girl. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of fuch a feeble temper fhould
So get the start of the majestick world,
And bear the Palm alone.
Bru. Another general fhout!
I do believe, that these applauses are
For fome new honours that are heap'd on Cæfar.
Caf Why, man, he doth beftride the narrow world
Like a Coloffus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves difhonourable graves.
Men at fome times are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,