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 factious1 for redress of all these griefs;
And I will set this foot of mine as far

As who goes farthest.

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;
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.

Enter CINNA.

Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. Cas. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait;

He is a friend.-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

(1) Be active, be doing,

H H

Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,

Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius, there?

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. [Exit CINNA. 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. Oh, 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.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Brutus's Orchard.

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!

Luc. Call'd you, my

Enter LUCIUS.

lord?

Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius :

When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc. I will, my lord.

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,

[Exit.

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 utmost 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 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,
Give so much light that I may read by them.

[Exit.

[Opens the letter, and reads.

"Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself.
Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress!
Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake?".

Such instigations have been often dropp'd
Where I have took them up.

"Shall Rome, &c.' Thus must I piece it out;

Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What! Rome?

My ancestors did from the streets of Rome

The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.

"Speak, strike, redress!"-Am I entreated

To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make the promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receivest
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus !

Re-enter LUCIUS.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

[Knock within.

Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate: somebody knocks.

Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar

I have not slept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.

Re-enter LUCIUS.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you.

Bru.

Is he alone?

Luc. No, sir, there are more with him.

Bru.

[Exit LUCIUS.

Do you know them?

Luc. No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks,

That by no means I may discover them

By any mark of favour.ĭ

Bru.

Let them enter.

They are the faction. O Conspiracy!

[Exit LUCIUS.

Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night,

When evils are most free? O, then, by day

Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough

To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, Conspiracy;

Hide it in smiles and affability:

For if thou path,2 thy native semblance on,

Not Erebus itself were dim enough

To hide thee from prevention.

Enter CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and

TREBONIUS.

Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest:
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?
Cas. Yes, every man of them; and no man here
But honours you: and every one doth wish
You had but that opinion of yourself

Which every noble Roman bears of you.
This is Trebonius.

(1) By any distinction of face.

(2) If thou go on in thy true form.

Bru.

He is welcome hither.

He is welcome too.

Cas. This, Decius Brutus.

Bru.

Cas. This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. Bru. They are all welcome.

What watchful cares do interpose themselves

Betwixt your eyes and night?

Cas. Shall I entreat a word?

[They whisper.

Dec. Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?
Casca. No.

Cin. O, pardon, sir, it doth: and yon grey lines

That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

Casca. You shall confess that you are both deceiv'd.
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises;
Which is a great way growing on the south,
Weighing the youthful season 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.
Cas. And let us swear our resolution.

Bru. No, not an oath: if not the face of men,1
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,-
If these be motives weak, break off betimes,
And every man hence to his idle bed;
So let high-sighted tyranny range on,
Till each man drop by lottery.2 But if these,
As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour
The melting spirits of women; then, countrymen,
What need we any spur but our own cause
To prick us to redress? what other bond,
Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,
And will not palter? and what other oath,
Than honesty to honesty engag'd,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous,
Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls
That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear
Such creatures as men doubt: but do not stain
The even virtue of our enterprise,

Nor the insuppressive metal of our spirits,

To think that, or our cause, or our performance,

(1) The dejected look of the people.

(2) By lot; as if in a decimation, when every tenth man is chosen by lot to be punished by death or otherwise.