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.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Caffius at the door, Who doth defire to fee 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'st thou to fhew thy,dang'rous brow by night, When Evils are moft free? O then, by day

Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough,

To mask thy monftrous vifage? feek none, Confpiracy
Hide it in Smiles and Affability:

For if thou path, thy native femblance on,
Not Erebus it felf 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?

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.
VOL. VI.

L

Bru.

Bru. He is welcome too.

Caf. This, Cafća; 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 entreat a word?

[They whisper.

Dec. Here lies the Eaft: doth not the day break here? (11)

Cafca. No.

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

Cafca. You fhall confefs, that you are both deceiv'd : Here, as I point my fword, the Sun arifes,

Which is a great way growing on the South,
Weighing the youthful feafon 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 fwear our refolution.

Bru. No, not an oath: if that the face of men,
The fufferance of our fouls, the time's abuse,

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(11) Here lies the Eaft:] Mr. Rymer, in his Examination of the Tragedies of the laft Age, p. 153, has left an invidious and paltry Remark on this Paffage. Here the Roman Senators, (fays He) the Midnight before Cafar's Death, (met in the Garden of Brutus to "fettle the Matter of their Confpiracy,) are gazing up to the Stars, " and have no more in their Heads than to wrangle about which is "the Eaft and Weft. This is directly, as Bays tells us, to fhew the "World a Pattern here, how Men fhould talk of Business. But it "would be a wrong to the Poet, not to inform the Reader that on "the Stage the Spectators fee Brutus and Caffius all this while at whisper together". I cannot help having the utmoft Contempt for this poor ill-judg'd Sneer. It fhews the Height of good Manners and Politeness in the Confpirators, while Brutus and Caffius whisper, to start any occafional Topick, and talk extempore; rather than feem to liften to, or be defirous of overhearing, what Caffius draws Brutus afide for. And, if I am not miftaken, there is a Piece of Art shewn in this whisper, which our Caviller either did not, or would not, fee into. The Audience are already apprized of the Subject on which the Faction meet and therefore this whifper is an Artifice, to prevent the Preliminaries, of what they knew beforehand, being formally repeated.

If these be motives weak, break off betimes;
And ev'ry man hence to his idle bed:
So let high-fighted tyranny range on, (12)
'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 spoke 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 fouls
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 fpirits;

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 promife that hath paft from him.

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

I think, he will ftand very ftrong with us.
Cafca. Let us not leave him out.

Cin. No, by no means.

Met. O let us have him, for his filver hairs

(12) So let high-fighted Tyranny1 Tho' I have not difturb'd this Epithet in the Text, yet, I fufpect, our Poet either wrote, as Mr. Warburton hinted to me, high-eged; or elfe, high-feated. So Caffius, in the former Act, fays;

And, after this, let Cæfar feat him fure;

So in Macbeth,

and our high-plac'd Mackbeth

Shall live the lease of Nature ;

And again,

Great Tyranny, lay thou thy Bafis fure,

and in many other Paffages.

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Will

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 fhall 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.

Cafca. 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 Cæfar,

Should out-live Cafar: we fhall find of him
A fhrewd contriver. And you know, his means,
If he improve them, may well ftretch so far,
As to annoy us all; which to prevent,

Let Antony and Cæfar 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 Cæfar.

Let us be facrificers, but not butchers, Caius;
We all stand up against the spirit of Cæfar,
And in the spirit of man there is no blood:
O, that we then could come by Cafar's fpirit,
And not difmember Cafar! but alas!
Cæfar 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,
Not hew him as a carkafs fit for hounds.
And let our hearts, as fubtle mafters do,
Stir up their fervants to an act of rage,

And after feem to chide them. This fhall make
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:
Which, fo appearing to the common eyes,
We fhall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cæfar's arm,
When Cefar's head is off.

Caf.

Caf. Yet I do fear him;

For in th' ingrafted love he bears to Cæfar

Bru. Alas, good Caffius, do not think of him:
If he love Cafar, all that he can do

Is to himself, take thought, and die for Cefar:
And that were much, he should; for he is giv'n
To fports, to wildness, and much company.

Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter..:: [Clock frikes.

Bru. Peace, count the clock.
Caf. The clock hath ftricken three.
Treb. 'Tis time to part.

Caf. But it is doubtful yet,

If Cafar will come forth to day, or no:
For he is fuperftitious grown of late,
(Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasie, of dreams, and ceremonies :)
It may be, these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the perfuafion of his augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to day.

Dec. Never fear that; if he be fo refolv'd,
I can o'er-fway him; for he loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glaffes, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.
But when I tell him, he hates flatterers,
He fays, he does; being then most flattered.
Leave me to work:

For I can give his humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the Capitol.

Caf. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Bru. By the eighth hour, is that the uttermoft?
Cin. Be that the uttermoft, and fail not then.
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæfar hard,
Who rated him for fpeaking well of Pompey;
I wonder, none of you have thought of him,
Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along to him:
He loves me well: and I have giv'n him reafons;

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