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 livelong 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 Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?

51

Cæs.

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. 60
Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for
this fault,

Assemble all the poor men of your sort; Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears

Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

[Exeunt Citizens with a downcast air.
See whether their basest metal be not mov'd!
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I. Disrobe the images,
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.2
Mar. May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

71

Flav. It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, And drive away the vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

1 That so that.

2 Ceremonies, trophies, honorary ornaments.

Cal. Here, my lord.

[Music ceases. Calpurnia!

12

Sooth. Cæsar! Caes. Ha! who calls? Casca. Bid every noise be still.-Peace yet again! [Music ceases; the crowd opens and discovers Soothsayer.

Cas. Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry, "Cæsar." Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cœs. What man is that? Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. Cæs. Set him before me; let me see his face. Cass. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Cæsar. [The Soothsayer advances.

19

3 Pitch, the height to which a falcon soars; a technical term.

4 Press, crowd.

I'll leave you. [Going-Cassius stops him.

Cass. 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 strange a hand 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,3 40
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 shows of love to other men.

Cass. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

49

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.
Cass. 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,

1 Sennet, a kind of flourish on the trumpet. Merelu. altogether, entirely.

3. Passions of some difference, conflicting emotions.

Where many of the best respect1 in Rome,Except immortal Cæsar,-speaking of Brutus, And groaning underneath this age's yoke, 61 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?

Cass. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;

69

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 on me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary baths my love
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.
Cass.
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.-

82

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.
Cass. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.9
Well, honour is the subject of my story.— 92
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.

4 Of the best respect, i.e. best worthy of respect.

5 Jealous on, suspicious or distrustful of.
6 Stale, make stale, or common.
Scandal, defame, slander.

8 Speed, favour, prosper.

9 Favour, face, personal appearance.

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of
Tiber

Did I the tired Cæsar;-and this man
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him I did mark 120 How he did shake: 't is true, this god did shake;

His coward lips did from their colour fly; And that same eye whose bend1 doth awe the world

Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan; Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus2 once that would have
brook'd

The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king!

159

Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;

What you would work me to, I have some aim;3 How I have thought of this, and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter; [Cassius is going to
speak; checking him] for this present,
I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
Be any further mov'd. What you have said,
I will consider; what you have to say,
I will with patience hear; and find a time 169
Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
[Shouts heard nearer.
[Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:
Brutus had rather be a villager
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.

1 Flood, the deluge of Deucalion.

2 Brutus, Lucius Junius Brutus, who expelled the Tarquins. 3 Aim, conjecture. 4 As such as.

That my weak words have struck but thus much show

Of fire from Brutus.

[Music.

Bru.] The games are done, and Cæsar is returning.

Cass. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve;

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.

179

Bru. I will do so.-But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Cæsar's brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train; [Calpurnia's cheek is pale, and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being cross'd in conference" by some senators.] Cass. Casca will tell us what the matter is. [Music. Re-enter Caesar, Antony, and the rest as before in procession.

Caes. Antonius! Ant. Cæsar?

190

Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. [Antony goes to Caesar's side; Brutus crosses to Casca as he is going, and pulls his cloak. Music. Exeunt all in procession, except Casca, Brutus, and Cassius.

Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me?

Bru. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanc'd to-day,

That Cæsar looks so sad.

Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not?

Bru. I should not then ask Casca what had chanc'd.

219

Casca. Why, there was a crown offer'd him; and, being offer'd him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.

Bru. What was the second noise for?
Casca. Why, for that too.

Cass. They shouted thrice; what was the last cry for?

Casca. Why, for that too.

Bru. Was the crown offer'd him thrice? Casca. Ay, marry, was 't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted.

Cass. Who offer'd him the crown?
Casca. Why, Antony.

Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. Casca. I can as well be hang'd as tell the manner of it; it was mere foolery, I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;-yet 't was not a crown neither, 't was one of these coronets;--and, as I told you, he put it by once; but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offer'd it to him again; then he put it by again; but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offer'd it the third time; he put it the third time by; and still as he refus'd it, the rabblement shouted, and clapp'd their chopp'd hands, and threw up their sweaty nightcaps, and utter'd such a deal of stinking breath because Cæsar refus'd the crown, that it had almost chok'd Caesar; for he swooned, and fell down at it.

And, for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

Cass. But, soft, I pray you: what, did Cæsar swoon?

Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foam'd at mouth, and was speechless.

Bru. "Tis very like;-he hath the fallingsickness.1

Cass. No, Cæsar hath it not; but you and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling sick

ness.

Casca. I know not what you mean by that; but I am sure Cæsar fell down. If the tagrag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleas'd and displeas'd them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true2 man.

Bru. What said he when he came unto himself?

Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he pluck'd me ope his doublet and offer'd them his throat to cut:-an I had been a man of any occupation,3 if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues:--and so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desir'd their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, "Alas, good soul!"—and forgave him with all their hearts:-but there's no heed to be taken of them; if Cæsar had stabb'd their mothers, they would have done no less.

Bru. And after that, he came, thus sad, away?
Casca. Ay.

Cass. Did Cicero say any thing?
Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek.
Cass. To what effect?

280