Let me a little fhew it, even in this;

That I was conftant Cimber should be banish'd,
And conftant do remain to keep him so.

Cim. O Cafar

Caf. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus ?
Dec. Great Cafar-

Caf. Doth not Brutus bootlefs kneel?
Cafe. Speak hands for me.

[Dies.

[They fab Cæfar. Caf. Et tu, Brute ?——then fall, Cæfar! Cin. Liberty! freedom! Tyranny is deadRun hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets Caf. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement.

Bru. People, and Senators! be not affrighted; Fly not, ftand still. Ambition's debt is paid. Caf. Go to the Pulpit, Brutus.

Dec. And Caffius too.

Bru. Where's Publius?

Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Met. Stand faft together, left fome friends of Cafar's Should chance

Bu. Talk not of ftanding. Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your perfon, Nor to no Roman elfe; fo tell them, Publius.

Caf. And leave us, Publius, lest that the People, Rufhing on us, fhould do your age fome mischief. Bru. Do fo; and let no man abide this deed, But we the doers.

Enter Trebonius.

Caf. Where is Antony?

Tre. Fled to his house amaz’d.

Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run,
As it were Dooms-day.

Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures;
That we fhall die, we know; 'tis but the time,
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.
Caf. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life,
Cuts off fo many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit.

So

So are we Cafar's friends, that have abridg'd

His time of fearing death. (18) Stoop, Romans, floop;
And let us bathe our hands in Cafar's blood
Up to the elbows, and befmear our fwords;
Then walk we forth even to the Market place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, Peace! freedom! and liberty!
Caf. Stoop then, and wash-how many ages

hence

[Dipping their words in Cæfar's blood.

Shall this our lofty Scene be acted o'er,
In States unborn, and accents yet unknown?
Bru. How many times fhall Cafar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's Bafis lies along,

No worthier than the duft?

Caf. So oft as that shall be,

So often fhall the knot of us be call'd
The Men that gave their Country Liberty.
Dec. What, fhall we forth?

Caf. Ay, every man away.

Brutus fhall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldeft, and beft hearts of Rome.

Enter a Servant.

Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's.

(18) Stoop, Romans, feop;] Mr. Pope, in both his editions, has, from these words, arbitrarily taken away the remainder of this speech from Brutus, and placed it to Cafca: becaufe, he thinks, nothing is more inconfistent with Brutus's mild and philofophical character. And as he often finds speeches in the later editions, he fays, put into wrong mouths; he thinks, this liberty is not unreafonable. 'Tis true, a diligent editor may find many fuch errors committed even in the first printed copies; but it has not often been Mr. Pope's good fortune to hit upon them. I dare warrant, the printers made no blunder in this inftance; and therefore I have made bold to restore the speech to its right owner. Brutus efteem'd the death of Cafar a facrifice to liberty; and, as such, gloried in his heading the enterprize. Befides, our poet is frictly copying a fact in history. Plutarch, in the life of Cæfar, fays, "Brutus and his followers, being yet "bot with the murther, march'd in a body from the Senate-house to "the Capitol, with their drawn words, with an air of confidence and "affurance." And, in the life of Brutus, Brutus and his

"party betook themselves to the Capitol, and in their way bewing "their bands all bloody, and their naked fwords, proclaim'd- liberty "to the people."

Scr.

[Kneeling.

Ser. Thus, Brutus, did my Mafter bid me kneel;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down ;
And, being proftrate, thus he bad me fay:
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant and honeft;
Cæfar was mighty, royal, bold and loving;
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him ;

Say, I fear'd Cæfar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cafar hath deferv'd to lie in death:
Mark Antony fhall not love Cæfar dead,
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod State,
With all true faith So fays my Mafter Antony.
Bru. Thy Mafter is a wife and valiant Roman;
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He fhall be fatisfied; and, by my honour,
Depart untouch’d.

Serv. I'll fetch him presently.

[Exit Servant.

Bru. I know, that we fhall have him well to friend. Caf. I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind, That fears him much; and my misgiving still

Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

Enter Antony.

Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. Ant. O mighty Cæfar! doft thou lie fo low? Are all thy Conquefts, Glories, Triumphs, Spoils, (19) Shrunk to this little measure ?--Fare thee well. I know not, Gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who elfe is rank ; If I my felf, there is no hour fo fit

As Cafar's death's hour; nor no inftrument

Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich

(19) Shrunk to this little measure?] Perhaps, our poet might have Juvenal in his view, here;

-Mors fola fatetur,
Quantula fint bominum corpufcula,-

With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now whilft your purpled hands do reek and smoak, Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,

I fhall not find myself fo apt to die:

No place will please me fo, no mean of death,
As here by Cafar, and by you cut off,
The choice and mafter fpirits of this age.

Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us :
Though now we muft appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands, and this our present act,
You fee, we do; yet fee you but our hands,
And this the bleeding bufinefs they have done:
Our hearts you fee not, they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome
(As fire drives out fire, fo pity, pity;)

Hath done this deed on Cafar: For your part,

To you our fwords have leaden points, Mark Antony ; Our arms exempt from malice, and our hearts

Of brothers' temper, do receive you in

With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Caf. Your voice fhall be as ftrong as any man's

In the difpofing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd
The multitude, befide themselves with fear;
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cæfar when I strook him,
Proceeded thus.

Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.

Let each man render me his bloody hand;
First, Marcus Brutus, will I thake with you;
Next, Caius Caffius, do I take your hand;

Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus ;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Cafca, yours;

Though laft, not leaft in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all- -alas, what fhall I fay?

My credit now ftands on fuch flippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a Coward, or a Flatterer.

That I did love thee, Cafar, oh, 'tis true;

If

If then thy Spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To fee thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Moft Noble! in the prefence of thy corfe?
Had I as many eyes, as thou haft wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better, than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius-here waft thou bay'd, brave hart;
Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters ftand
Sign'd in thy fpoil, (20) and crimfon'd in thy death.
O world! thou waft the foreft to this hart,
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
How like a deer, ftricken by many Princes,
Doft thou here lie?

Caf. Mark Antony

Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cafius: The enemies of Cafar fhall fay this: Then, in a friend, it is cold modefty.

Caf. I blame you not for praifing Cæfar fo, But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prick'd in number of our friends, Or fhall we on, and not depend on you?

Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was, indeed, Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cæfar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all; Upon this hope, that you fhall give me reasons, Why, and wherein Cafar was dangerous. Bru. Or elfe this were a favage fpectacle.

Our reafons are fo full of good regard,

(20) And crimson'd in thy death.] All the old copies, that I have feen, read, Lethe. The dictionaries, indeed, acknowledge no fuch word: and as the L might have mistakingly been form'd from an obfcure D, not taking the ink equally in all parts, I have fuffer'd the more known word to ftand in the text; tho', indeed, I am not without fufpicion of our poet's having either coin'd the other term, or copied it from fome obfolete author, who had adopted it from the Letbum of the Latines; which, 'tis well known, was used for death, as well as destruction, ruin, bavock, &c.

That