Puslapio vaizdai
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A C T 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.

[Exit.

Bru. It must be by his death; and, for my part,

I know no personal cause to spurn at him ;

But for the general. He would be crown'd

How might that change his nature, there's the queftion.
It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking: crown him-that-
And then I grant we put a fting in him,

That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abuse of greatnefs is, when it disjoins
Remorfe from power; and to speak 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 utmost 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

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 mischievous; And kill him in the shell.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. The taper burneth in your clofet, 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 letter.
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.

Bru. Look in the kalendar, and bring me word.
Luc. I will, Sir.

[Exit.

(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 firft of March be come, and the Boy brings him word 'tis wafted 15 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. 1 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 eafily be folved, by only fuppofing that the Word Ides in the Manufcript Copy happened 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 fo well informed in it: They knew, that jft frequently ftood for firft; and blunderingly thought that js was meant to do fo too: and thence was derived 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 Caefar 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 likewife ftarted this very Emendation, and communicated it to me by Letter.

Bru.

Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air, Give fo much light, that I may read by them.

[Opens the letter, and reads.

Brutus, thou fleep'ft; awake, and fee thyself:
Speak, ftrike, redrefs.

Shall Rome,

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 stand under one man's awe? what! Rome? σε 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'ft

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 first 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 inftruments
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 miftaken: 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 about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks ;

That by no means I may difcover 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 moft free? Ō then, by day

Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough,

To mask thy monftrous vifage? feek none, conspiracy; Hide it in fmiles and affability:

For if thou path, thy native semblance on,

Not Erebus itself 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?

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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.

Cafca..

Dec. Here lies the Eaft: doth not the day break here?

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Cafca. No.

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

Cafca. You shall confefs, that you are both deceiv'd: Here, as I point my fword, the Sun arifes, Which is a great way growing on the fouth, Weighing the youthful feafon 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 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 spirits of women; then, countrymen,
What need we any fpur, but our own caufe,
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 priests, and cowards, and men cautelous,
Old feeble carrions, and fuch fuffering fouls
unto bad caufes, fwear
That welcome wrongs :
Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain
The even virtue of our enterprize,

Nor th' infuppreffive mettle of our spirits;

To think, that or our caufe, 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 fmalleft particle
Of any promise that hath paft from him.

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

I think,

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