Puslapio vaizdai
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It did not lie there, when I went to bed.

[Gives him the letter.

Bru. Get you to bed again, it is not day : * Is not to-morrow, boy, the Ides of March ? Luc. I know not, Sir.

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.

[Exit.

[Opens the letter, and reads.

Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself:

Shall Rome,speak, strike, redress.

Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake.

Such inftigations have been often dropt,
Where I have took them up:

Shall Rome thus must I piece it out,

"Shall Rome stand 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, strike, redress, am I entreated

To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee promise, If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st

Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

4 Is not to-morrow, bay, the FIRST of March ? ) We should read IDES: For we can never suppose the speaker to have loft fourteen days in his account, He is here plainly ruminating on what the foothfayer told Cafar [At I. Scene 2.] in his presence. -Beware the Ides of March.]

The boy comes back and says, Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. So that the morrow was the Ides of March, as he supposed. For March, May, July, and October, had fix nones each, so that the fifteenth of March was the Ides of that month.

WARE.

Enter Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

1

[knocks within.

Bru, 'Tis good. Go to the gate; fome body

knocks.

[Exit Lucius.

Since Caffius first did whet me against Cæfar,
I have not slept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is

Like

5 In former editions,

cero) has paraphrased this fine deSir, March is wasted fifteen scription; but we are no longer days. to expect those terrible graces which animate his original.

The editors are flightly mistaken:: It was wasted but fourteen days; this was the dawn of the 15th, when the boy makes his report,

THEOBALD.

6 Between the acting of a dreadful thing,

And the first motion, &c.] That nice critic, Dionyfius of Halicarnaffus, complains, that, of all kind of beauties, those great strokes, which he calls the terrible graces, and which are fo frequent in Homer, are the rareft to be found in the following wri. ters. Amongst our countrymen it seems to be as much confined to the British Homer. This description of the condition of conspirators, before the execution of their design, has a pomp and terror in it that perfectly aftonishes. The excellent Mr. Addison, whose modefty made him sometimes diffident in his own genius, but whose true judgment always led him to the safest guides, (as we may fee by those many fine strokes in his Cato borrowed from the Philippics of Ci

O think, what anxious moments pass between

The birth of pilots, and their last
fatal periods.

Ob, 'tis a dreadful interval of
time,
Filld up with horror all, and
big with death.
Cato,

I shall make two remarks on this fine imitation. The first is, that the subjects of the two confpiracies being so very different, (the fortunes of Cafar and the Roman Empire being concerned in the one; and that of a few auxiliary troops only in the other) Mr. Addison could not, with propriety, bring in that magnificent circumftance which gives one of the terrible graces of Shakespeare's description;

Ibe Genius, and the Mortal Inftruments

Are then in Council For Kingdoms, in the Pagan Theology, besides their good, had their evil Genius's, likewife, represented here, with the most daring stretch of fancy, as fitting

Like a phantasma, 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 insurrection.

Enter Lucius.

Lut. Sir, 'tis your brother Caffius at the door, Who doth defire to fee you. Bru. Is he a'one?

in confultation with the conspirators, whom he call their Mortal Instruments. But this, as we say, would have been too pompous an apparatus to the rape and defertion of Syphax and Sempronius, The other thing observable is, that Mr. Addijon was so struck and affected with these terrible graces in his, original, that instead of imitating his author's fenti

ments, he hath, before he was aware, given us only the copy of his own impressions made by them. For,

Oh, 'tis a dreadful interval of time,

Fill'd up with Horror all, and
big with death,

are but the affections raised by
such forcible Images as these,
- All the Intrim is

Like a Phantasma, or a bidious
Dream.

- the State of Man,

Like to a little Kingdom, fuffers then

The Nature of an insurrection. Comparing the troubled mind of a confpirator to a state of Anarchy, is just and beautiful; but the int'rim, or interval, to an hideous vifion, or a frightful dream, holds something fo won

derfully of truth, and lays the foul so open, that one can hardly think it possible for any man, who had not some time or other been engaged in a conspiracy, to give such force of colouring to Nature.

WARBURTON.

The δείνον of the Greek criticks does not, I think, mean sentiments which raise fear, more than wonder, or any other of the tumultuous paffions; τὸ δεῖνον is that which Arikes, which aftonishes, with the idea either of fome great fubject, or of the author's abilities.

Dr. Warburton's pompous criticism might well have been shortened. The Genius is not the genius of a kingdom, nor are the instruments, confpirators. ShakeSpeare is defcibing what paffes in a single bosom, the infurrection which a confpirator feels agitating the little kingdom of his own mind; when the Genius, or power that watches for his protection, and the mortal instruments, the paffions, which excite him to a deed of honour and danger, are in council and debate; when the defire of action and the care of safety, keep the mind in continual fluctuation and disturbance. Luc.

Luc. No, Sir, there are more with him.
Bru. Do you know them?

Luc. No, Sir, their hats are pluckt about 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 Conspiracy!

[Exit Lucius.

Sham'st thou to shew 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 monstrous visage? Seek none, Conspi

racy;

1

Hide it in Smiles and Affability;

* For if thou path, thy native semblance on,

Not Erebus itself were dim enough

To hide thee from prevention.

SCENE II.

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

Caf. I think, we are too bold upon your Rest. 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 self, Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius.

Bru. He is welcome hither.
Caf. This, Decius Brutus.

of favour.] Any dif

tinction of countenance.

8 For if thou path, thy native Semblance on,] If thou walk

in thy true form.

Bru. 9 No, not an oath; if that the FACE of men, &c ) The confpirators propose an oath as the fanction of their mutual faith. This, Brutus, very much in charatter, opposes: Because an oath was the usual cement of those lawless cabals, which have not virtue enough in themselves to keep their members together: On this confideration his argument against an oath turns: And the motives he thought sufficient to preserve faith amongst them, were these: The Sofferance of their fouls, i. e, their commiferation for expiring liberty: The

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?

Cafca. No.

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

Cafca. You shall confess, that you are both de

ceiv'd:

Here, as I point my sword, the Sun arises,
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 presents 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 not the face of men,

The

time's abuse, i. e. the general corruption of manners which had reduced publick liberty to this condition; and which, that liberty restored, would reform. But now, what is the FACE of men? Did he mean they had honeft looks. This was a poor and low observation, unworthy Brutus, and the occafion, and the gran. deur of his speech: Besides, it is foreign to the turn and argument of his discourse, which is to shew the strong cement of the confederacy, from the justice of their cause, not from the natural honour of the conspirators. His argument

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