PRO. You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah? STE. I should have been a sore one, then. ALON. This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on. [Pointing to CALIBAN. PRO. He is as disproportion'd in his manners As in his shape.-Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

CAL. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter,
And seek for grace.
What a thrice-double ass

Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull foo!!

Go quick away,-the story of my life,
And the particular accidents gone by,
Since I came to this isle: and in the morn
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
ALON.
I long

To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.

PRO.

I'll deliver all;

SEB. Or stole it, rather.

[Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO.

PRO. Sir, I invite your highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest

Ariel,-chick,

That is thy charge; then to the elements!

Be free, and fare thou well!-Please you, draw

near.

[Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by PROSPERO.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confin'd by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands,
With the help of your good hand
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please: now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,

Let your indulgence set me free.

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of Citizens.

FLAV. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you
home;

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day, without the sign
Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou?
ICIT. Why, sir, a carpenter.

MAR. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?-
You, sir, what trade are you?

I

2 CIT. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, am but, as you would say, a cobbler. MAR. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

2 CIT. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad

soles.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Rome. A Street.

MAR. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 CIT. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you. MAR. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?

2 CIT. Why, sir, cobble you.
FLAV. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

2 CIT. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.

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 home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,
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 Tiber 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.

(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.

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

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

FLAV. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

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.

See, whêr 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.
MAR. May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

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. 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.

O

SCENE II.-The same.

[Exeunt.

A Public Place.

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?

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.
CAS. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus; and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about.
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus, and Cæsar: what should be in that Caesar:
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat does this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walks encompass'd but one man?

When there is in it but one only man.

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 oaths 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.

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 Tiber 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,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy:
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

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
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly;
And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius,
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone. [Flourish, and shout.
BRU. Another general shout!

|

O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a king!

BRU. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to, I have some aim;
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter; 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

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
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.

CAS. I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.
BRU. The games are done, and Cæsar is returning.
CAS. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve;
And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
What has proceeded worthy note to-day.

Re-enter CESAR and his Train.

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:
Calphurnia'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.
CAS. Casca will tell us what the matter is.
CES. Antonius,—

ANT. Cæsar.

CAS. Let me have men about me that are fat; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights: Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. ANT. Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dangerous; He is a noble Roman, and well given.

CES. Would he were fatter!-but I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid

So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music:
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at any-thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.

I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
Than what I fear,--for always I am Cæsar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

[Exeunt CESAR and his Train. CASCA stays
behind.

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.

CASCA. Why, there was a crown offered him: and being offered 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.

CASCA. Why, for that too.

BRU. Was the crown offered 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.

CAS. Who offered him the crown?
CASCA. Why, Antony.

BRU. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. CASCA. I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;-yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas 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 offered it to him again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loth to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by: and still as he refused it, the rabblement shouted, and clapped their chapped hands, and threw up their sweaty nightcaps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Cæsar refused the crown, that it had almost choked Cæsar; 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.

you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it.

CAS. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?
CASCA. No, I am promised forth.

CAS. Will you dine with me to-morrow?

Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
Incenses them to send destruction.

CIC. Why, saw you anything more wonderful? CASCA. A common slave (you know him well by sight)

Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn
Like twenty torches join'd; and yet his hand,
Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
Besides, (I have not since put up my sword)
Against the Capitol I met a lion,
Who glar'd upon me, and went surly by

CASCA. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and Without annoying me: and there were drawn your dinner worth the eating.

CAS. Good; I will expect you. CASCA. Do so: farewell both.

[Exit.

BRU. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school. CAS. So is he now, in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.

Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women,
Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw
Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets.
And yesterday the bird of night did sit,
Even at noon-day, upon the market-place,
Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say
These are their reasons,-they are natural;
For, I believe, they are portentous things
Unto the climate that they point upon.

CIC. Indeed, it is a strange disposed time:

BRU. And so it is. For this time I will leave you: But men may construe things after their fashion,
To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
I will come home to you; or, if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you.
CAS. I will do so:-till then, think of the world.
[Exit BRUTUS
Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see
Thy honourable metal may be wrought
From that it is dispos'd: therefore it is meet

Clean from the purpose of the things themselve
Comes Cæsar to the Capitol to-morrow?
CASCA. He doth; for he did bid Antonius
Send word to you he would be there to-morrow.
CIC. Good night, then, Casca: this disturbed sky
Is not to walk in.
CASCA.

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

CASCA. He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless.

BRU. 'Tis very like,-he hath the falling sickness. CAS. No, Cæsar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. CASCA. I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure, Cæsar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man.

BRU. What said he when he came unto himself? CASCA. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and offered them his throat to cut!-An I had been a man of any occupation, 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 desired 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 stabbed their mothers they would have done no less.

BRU. And after that, he came, thus sad, away?
CASCA. Ay.

CAS. Did Cicero say anything?

CASCA. Ay, he spoke Greek

CAS. To what effect?

That noble minds keep ever with their likes;
For who so firm that cannot be seduc'd?
Cæsar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus:
If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me. I will this night,
In several hands, in at his windows throw,
As if they came from several citizens,
Writings, all tending to the great opinion
That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely
Cæsar's ambition shall be glanced at:
And, after this, let Cæsar seat him sure;
For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The same. A Street. Thunder and lightning. Enter, from opposite sides, CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO. CIC. Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home? Why are you breathless? and why stare you so? CASCA. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway of earth

Shakes like a thing unfirm? O, Cicero,

I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have seen
The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam.
To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds:
But never till to-night, never till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Either there is a civil strife in heaven;

Farewell, Cicero. [Exit CICERO.

Enter CASSIUS.

CAS. Who's there? CASCA.

CAS.

A Roman.

Casca, by your voice. CASCA. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is

this!

It is the part of men to fear and tremble,
When the most mighty gods, by tokens, send

Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

CAS. You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman you do want,

Or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze,
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
But if you would consider the true cause
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind;
Why old men fools, and children calculate;
Why all these things change from their ordinance,
Their natures, and pre-formed faculties,
To monstrous quality;-why, you shall find,
That heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits,
To make them instruments of fear and warning
Unto some monstrous state.

Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
Most like this dreadful night,

That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
As doth the lion in the Capitol,-

A man no mightier than thyself or me,
In personal action; yet prodigious grown,
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.
CASCA. 'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not,
Cassius?

CAS. Let it be who it is: for Romans now

Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors,

But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,
And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;
Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

CASCA. Indeed, they say the senators to-morrow
Mean to establish Cæsar as a king;
And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
In every place, save here in Italy.

CAS. I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,

Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

If I know this, know all the world besides
That part of tyranny that I do bear
I can shake off at pleasure.

CASCA.

So can I:

CAS.

There's a bargain made. Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans, To undergo with me an enterprise Of honourable-dangerous consequence; [Thunder still. And I do know, by this, they stay for me In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night There is no stir or walking in the streets; And the complexion of the element In favour's like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. CASCA. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

So every bondman in his own hand bears
The power to cancel his captivity.

CAS. And why should Cæsar be a tyrant, then?
Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Cæsar!-but, O, grief!
Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this
Before a willing bondman; then I know
My answer must be made: but I am arm'd,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

CASCA. You speak to Casca; and to such a man
That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold my hand:
Be factious for redress of all these griefs;
And I will set this foot of mine as far
As who goes farthest.

CAS. 'Tis Cinna,-I do know him by his gait; He is a friend.

Enter CINNA.

Cinna, where haste you so? CIN. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

CAS. No, it is Casca; one incorporate

To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?
CIN. I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.
CAS. Am I not stay'd for? tell me.
CIN.
Yes, you are.
O, Cassius, if you could

But win the noble Brutus to our party

CAS. Be you content, good Cinna; take this paper, And look you lay it in the prætor's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window; set this up with wax Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done, Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

[Exit CINNA

CIN. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, And so bestow these papers as you bade me. CAS. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. Come, Casca, you and I will yet, ere day, See Brutus at his house: three parts of him Is ours already; and the man entire, Upon the next encounter, yields him ours. CASCA. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts: And that which would appear offence in us, His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness.

CAS. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him,

You have right well conceited. Let us go.
For it is after midnight; and, ere day,
We will awake him, and be sure of him.

[Exeunt.

Enter BRUTUS.

BRU. What, Lucius! ho!

I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day.-Lucius, I say!

I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! 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 that might change his nature, there's the question.

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 sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: so Cæsar may;
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
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 serpent's egg,
Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell.

Re-enter LUCIUS.

LUC. The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found

[Giving a letter. This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure, It did not lie there when I went to bed.

BRU. Get you to bed again, it is not day. Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? Luc. I know not, sir.

BRU. Look in the calendar, and bring me word. Luc. I will, sir.

BRU. The exhalations, whizzing in the air,

[Exit.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is