Cask. O, he fits high in all the Peoples Hearts:
And that which would appear Offence in us,
His Countenance, like richeft Alchymy,
Will change to Virtue, and to Worthinefs,
Caf. Him, and his Worth, and our great need of him,
You have right well conceited; let us go,
For it is after Mid-night, and e'er Day,
We will awake him, and be fure of him.
WHAT Lucius! ho!
I cannot, by the progrefs 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.
Br. 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
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 Sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abufe of Greatnefs, is; when it disjoins
Remorfe from Power: And to fpeak truth of Cafar,
I have not known, when his Affections fway'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 upmoft Round,
He then unto the Ladder turns his Back,
Looks in the Clouds, fcorning the bafe Degrees
By which he did afcend: So Cafar 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 thefe Extremities:
And therefore think him as a Serpent's Egg,
Which hatch'd, would, as his kind,grow mifchievous,
And kill him in the Shell.
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 lye there, when I went to Bed.
Bru. Get you to Bed again, it is not Day: Is not to Morrow, Boy, the firft of March?
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.
[Opens the Letter, and reads. Brutus, thou sleep'ft; awake, and fee thy felf: -Speak, ftrike, redress.
Brutus, thon 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, ftrike, redress Am I entreated
To fpeak, and ftrike? O Rome, I make thee promife,
If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st
Thy full Petition at the Hand of Brutus.
Luc. Sir, March is wafted fifteen Days.
Bru, 'Tis good. Go to the Gate, fome body knocks: Since Caffius firft did whet me against Cafar,
Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the firft motion, all the Interim is
Like a Phantafma, or a hideous Dream:
The Genius, and the mortal Inftruments,
Are then in Council; and the ftate of Man,
Like to a little Kingdom, fuffers then,
The nature of an Infurrection.
Luc. Sir, 'tis your Brother Caffius at the Door, Who doth defire to see you.
Luc. No, Sir, there are more with him.
Bru. Do you know them?
Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluck'd about their Ears, And half their Faces buried in their Cloaths,
That by no means I may difcover them,
By any mark of favour.
Bru. Let them enter.
They are the Faction. O Confpiracy!
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? Seek none, Confpiracy,
Hide it in Smiles and Affability:
For if thou path, thy native Semblance on,
Not Erebus it felf were dim enough,
To hide thee from Prevention.
Enter Caffius, Caska, 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 thefe Men, that come along with you?
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 self,
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 Caska; this, Cinna; And this Metellus Cimber.
Bru. They are all welcome.
What watchful Cares do interpofe themselves,
Betwixt your Eyes and Night?
Caf. Shall I intreat a word?
Dec. Here lies the Eaft: Doth not the Day break here?
Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth, and yon grey Lines,
That fret the Clouds, are Meffengers of Day.
Cask. You fha'l confefs that you are both deceiv'd:
Here as I point my Sword, the Sun arifes,
Which is a great way growing on the South,
Weighing the youthful Seafon of the Year.
Some two Months hence, up higher toward the North
He first prefents his fire, and the high Eaft
Stands as the Capitol, directly here.
Bru. Give me your Hands all over, one by one.
Caf. And let us fwear our Refolution.
Bru. No, not an Oath: If not the Face of Men,
The Sufferance of our Souls, the Time's abufe,
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 thefe,
As I am fure they do, bear Fire enough
To kindle Cowards, and to fteel with Valour
The melting Spirits 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 fpoke 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 Souls
That welcome wrongs: Unto bad Caufes, fwear
Such Creatures as Men doubt; but do not ftain
The even Virtue of our Enterprize,
Nor th' infuppreffive Mettle of our Spirits,
To think, that or our Cause, or our Performance,
Did need an Oath. When every drop of Blood
That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a feveral Baftardy,
If he doth break the fmalleft Particle
Of any Promife, that hath paft from him.
Caf. But what of Cicero? Shall we found him?
I think he will ftand very ftrong with us.
Cask. Let us not leave him out.
Met. O let us have him, for his Silver Hairs Will purchase us a good Opinion,
And buy Mens Voices, to commend our Deeds:
It shall be faid, his Judgment rul'd our Hands;
Our Youths, and Wildness, shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his Gravity.
Bru. O name him not; let us not break with him,
For he will never follow any thing
That other Men begin.
Caf. Then leave him out.
Cask Indeed, he is not fit.
Dec. Shall no Man elfe be touch'd, but only Cafar?
Caf. Decius, well urg'd; I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, fo well belov'd of Cafar,
Should out-live Cafar: we shall find of him
A fhrewd Contriver. And you know, his means,
If he improve them, may well ftretch fo far,
As to annoy us all; which to prevent,
Let Antony and Cafar fall together.
Bru. Our Courfe will feem too bloody, Caius Caffius,
To cut the Head off, and then hack the Limbs;
Like wrath in Death, and Envy afterwards :
For Antony is but a Limb of Cafar.
Let's be Sacrificers, but not Butchers, Caffius:
We all ftand up against the Spirit of Cafar,
And in the Spirit of Men, there is no Blood:
O that we then could come by Cafar's Spirits,
And not difmember Cafar! but, alas!
Cafar muft bleed for it. And, gentle Friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him, as a Difh fit for the Gods,
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