per men as ever trod upon neats-leather, have gone upon my handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day?. Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

[home?

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone;

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague

That needs must light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,

Assemble all the poor men of your sort;

Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream

Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exeunt Citizens.
See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd;

They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; b-whe'r-] i. e. Whether.

This way will I: Disrobe the images,

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies."
Mar. May we do so?

You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cæsar'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 pluck'd from Cæsar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who else would soar above the view of men,

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

SCENE II.

The Same. A publick Place.

[Exeunt.

Enter in Procession, with Musick, Cesar; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great Croud following; among them a Soothsayer.

Cas. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course.

Ant. Caesar, my lord.

Antonius.

Cas. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their steril curse,

ceremonies.] i. e. Honorary ornaments; tokens of respect.-MALONE. d This person was not Decius, but Decimus Brutus. The poet (as Voltaire has done since) confounds the characters of Marcus and Decimus. Decimus Brutus was the most cherished by Casar of all his friends, while Marcus kept aloof, and declined so large a share of his favours and honours, as the other had constantly accepted. Shakspeare's mistake of Decius for Decimus, arose from the old translation of Plutarch.-FARMER..

Ant.

I shall remember :

[Musick.

When Cæsar says, Do this, it is perform'd.

Cas. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar.

Cas. Ha! Who calls?

Casca. Bid every noise be still :-Peace yet again.

[Musick ceases.

Cas. Who is it in the press, that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick,
Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cas.

What man is that?

Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March. Cas. Set him before me, let me see his face.

Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar. Cas. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cas. He is a dreamer; let us leave him; -pass.

[Sennet. Exeunt all but BRU. and CAS.

Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,
And show of love, as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too stranges a hand

and is much like unto the feast of Lyceans in Arcadia. But howsoever it is, that day there are diverse noble men's sonnes, young men (and some of them magistrates themselves that govern them), which run naked through the city, striking in sport them they meet in their way with leathern thongs. And many noble women and gentlewomen also go on purpose to stand in their way, and doe put forth their handes to be stricken, persuading themselves that being with childe, they shall have good deliverie; and also, being barren, that it will make them conceive with child. Cæsar sat to behold that sport upon the pulpit for orations, in a chayre of gold, apparalled in triumphant manner. Antonius, who was consul at that time, was one of them that ronne this holy course." Plutarch: North's translation. - MALONE.

Sennet.] A certain set of notes on the trumpet or cornet, different from a flourish.

strange-] i. e. Alien, unfamiliar, such as might become a stranger.

Over your friend that loves you.

Bru.

Cassius,

Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd;
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one ;)
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the show of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion ;'
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself,

But by reflection, by some other things.

Cas. 'Tis just:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar,) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear:

And, since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:

h

passions of some difference,] With a fluctuation of discordant opinions

and desires.-JOHNSON.

1

your passion;] i. e. The nature of the feelings from which you are now

Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my lovek
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish, and shout.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Cæsar for their king.

Cas.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not, Cassius; 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' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.

Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story.-
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar; so 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 gusty day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point? - Upon the word,
Accouter'd as I was, I plunged in,
And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it