We all stand up against the fpirit of Cæfar,
And in the fpirit of man there is no blood:
O that we then could come by Cæfar's fpirit,
And not difmember Cæfar! but alas!
Cæfar must 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 carcafe fit for hounds.
And let our hearts, as fubtle masters do,
Stir up their fervants to an act of rage,
And after feem to chide them. This fhall make
Our purpofe neceffary, and not envious:
Which fo appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be called purgers, not murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cæfar's arm,
When Cæfar's head is off.

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 Cæfar, all that he can do

Is to himself, take thought, and die for Cæfar: And that were much he thould; for he is given 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 ftrikes.

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

Caf. But it is doubtful yet,

If Cæfar will come forth to-day or no:
For he is fuperftitious grown of late,
(Quite from the main opinion he held once.
Of fantafy, of dreams, and ceremonies:)
It may be thefe apparent prodigies,

The unaccustomed 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 refolved,
I can o'er-fway him; for he loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betrayed by 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 moft flattered.
Leave me to work:

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

Gaf. 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 given him reafons; Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Caf. The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you, Brutus ;

And, friends, difperfe yourselves; but all remember What you have faid, and fhew yourselves true Ro

mans.

Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes; But bear it, as our Roman actors do, With untired spirits, and formal constancy; And fo good-morrow to you every one. [Exeunt.

Manet BRUTUS.

Boy! Lucius! faft afleep? it is no matter.
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :

VOL. X.

M

Thou haft no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which bufy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleepest so found.

Enter PORTIA.

Por. Brutus, my Lord!

Bru. Porcia, what mean you? wherefore rise
you now?

It is not for your health, thus to commit
Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
Por. Nor for yours neither. You've ungently,
Brutus,

Stole from my bed: and yefternight at fupper,
You fuddenly arofe and walked about,

Mufing and fighing with your arms across;
And when I asked you what the matter was,
You ftared upon me with ungentle looks:

I urged you further; then you fcratched your head,
And too impatiently stamped with your foot:
Yet I infifted, yet you answered not;
But with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave fign for me to leave you: fo { did,
Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience,
Which feemed too much enkindled; and withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which fometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep;
And could it work fo much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevailed on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my Lord,
Make me acquainted with your caufe of grief.

Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
Por. Brutus is wife, and were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
Bru. Why, fo I do: good Portia, go to bed.
Por. Is Brutus fick? and is it phyfical

To walk unbraced, and fuck up the humours
Of the dank morning? what, is Brutus fick?
And will he fteal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night,
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air,
To add unto his fickness? no, my Brutus,
You have fome fick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of; and upon my knees,

I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, (13)
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, yourfelf, your half,
Why you are heavy; and what men to-night
Have bad refort to you: for here have been
Some fix or feven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Porcia.

Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle Brutus Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted I should know no fecrets That appertain to you? am I yourself,

But as it were in fort or limitation?

To keep with you at meals, confort your bed, (14)

(13) I charge you,] Thus Mr Pope has corrected, in both his editions; but Thave restored the reading of the old books, I charm you, i. e. I conjure you by the magic of, &c.

(14).

-comfort your bed,
-]

And talk to you

This is but an odd phrafe, and gives as odd an idea. The word I have fubftituted feems much more proper and is one of our Poet's own ufage, which makes me fufpect he employed it here.

So, in his Comedy of Errors;

And afterwards confort you till bed-time. And fo in his poem called Venus and Adonis; Who bid them ftill confort with ugly night.

And talk to you fometimes? dwell I but in the fuburbs

Of your good pleafure? if it be no more,
Porcia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

Bru. You are my true and honourable wife;
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops

That vifit my fad heart.

Por. If this were true, then fhould I know this grant I am a woman, but withal

A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife :

I grant I am a woman, but withal
A woman well reputed, Cato's daughter.
Think you I am no ftronger than my fex,
Being fo fathered, and fo hufbanded?

[fecret.

Tell me your counfels, I will not disclose them;
I have made ftrong proof of my conftancy,
Giving myfelf a voluntary wound

Here in the thigh; can I bear that with patience,
And not my husband's fecrets?

Bru. O ye Gods!

Render me worthy of this noble wife.

[Knock.

Hark, hark, one knocks: Porcia, go in a while;

And by and by, thy bofom fhall partake

The fecrets of my heart.

All my engagements I will conftrue to thee,

All the charactery of my fad brows.

Leave me with hafte.

[Exit Porcia.

Enter LUCIUS and LIGARIUS.

Lucius, who's there that knocks?

Luc. Here's a fick man that would speak with you.

And fo afterwards, again, in the fifth act of this play;

Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perched,
Gorging and feeding from our foldiers hands,
Who to Philippi here conforted us.

And, in Miafummer Night's Dream;

And muft for aye confort with black browed Night.