Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my

own,

To found more fweetly in great Cæfar's ear,
For the repealing of my banished brother?
Bru. I kifs thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæfar;
Defiring thee, that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Caf What, Brutus !

Gaf. Pardon, Cæfar; Cæfar, pardon;
As low as to thy foot doth Caffius fall,.
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
Caf. I could be well moved, if I were as you;

-

fage:- "Cry you mercy, you never did wrong but with juft caufe" The words are conftantly printed in a different character; and that they are levelled at Shakespeare. is fully cleared up by another paffage in Ben's Discoveries, where he thus fpeaks of our Author: " Many times he fell into those things could not efcape laughter; as when he said in the perfon of Cæfar, one fpeaking to him,-- -Cæfar, thou doft me wrong; he replied, Cæfar did never wrong, but with juft caufe."- I cannot pretend to guefs for what reafon Ben has left this farcafm upon our Author, when there is no room for it from any of the printed copies; nor fhould I have thought it worth while to revive the memory of fuch a remark, had not Mr Pope purpofely deviated into a criticifin upon the affair. There is a fort of fatality attends fome people when they aim at: being hypercritical. He thinks Ben Johnson's remark was made upon no better credit than fome blunder of an actor in fpeaking the verse now under debate; and, perhaps (fays he) this play was never printed in Ben Johufon's time; and fo he had nothing to judge by, but as the actor was employed to speak it.I don't know how this gentleman's head was employed, when he made this profound observation; for he could not but know, that Ben Johnson lived to the year 1637, fourteen years before which the players had put out their edition of all Shakefpeare's genuine plays in Folio. The furly Laureat there-føre cannot fland excufed, from any blunder of an actor, for wounding the memory of a poet, when the absurdity, re Accted on is not to be found in his works.

If I could pray to move, prayers would move me a
But I am conftant as the northern star,
Of whofe true, fixt, and refting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament:

The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
But there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So, in the world, 'tis furnished well with men;
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehenfive;
Yet in the number, I do know but one
That unaffailable holds on his rank,
Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little fhew it, even in this;

That I was conftant Cimber fhould be banished,
And conftant do remain to keep him fo.

Cim. O Cæfar

Caf. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Dec. Great Cæfar-

Caf. Doth not Brutus bootlefs kneel?

Cafe. Speak hands for me. [They ftab Cæfar. Caf. Et tu Brute?· then fall Cæfar! [Dies. Cin. Liberty freedom! Tyranny is deadRun hence, proclaim, cry it about the ftreetsCaf. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, freedom, and infranchisement.

Bru. People, and Senators! be not affrighted; Fly not, ftand ftill. Ambition's debt is paid. · Caf. Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

Dec. And Caffius too.

Bru. Where's Publius?

Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Met. Stand faft together, left fome friends of Should chance----[Cæfar's Bru. Talk not of ftanding.. Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your perfon, Nor to no Roman elfe; fo tell them, Publius.

Caf. And leave us, Publius, left that the people, Rufhing on us, should do your age fome mischief. Bru. Do fo; and let no man abide this deed, But we the doers.

Enter TREBONIUS.

Caf. Where is Antony?

Tre. Fled to his houfe amazed.

Men, wives, and children, ftare, cry out, and run,-s As it were dooms-day

Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures; That we shall die, we know; 'tis hut the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

Caf. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off fo many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit. So are we Cæfar's friends, that have abridged His time offearing death. (18) Stoop, Romans, stoop;

(18) Stoop, Romans, foop; Mr Pope, in both his editions, has from thefe words arbitrarily taken away the remainder of this fpeech from Brutus, and placed it to Cafca; because he thinks, nothing is more inconfiftent with Brutus's mild and philofophical character. And as he often finds fpeeches in the latter editions (fays he) put into wrong mouths, he thinks this hberty not unreasonable. 'Tis true, a diligent editor may find many fuch errors committed even in the first printed copies; but it has not often been Mr Pope's good fortune to hit upon them I dore warrant the printers made no blunder in this inftance; and therefore I have made bold to restore the fpeech to its right owner. Brutus esteemed the death of Catar a facrifice to liberty; and. as fuch gloried in his heading the enterprize. Befides our Poet is Arictly copying a fact in hiftory. Plutarch, in the life of Cafer, fays, Brutus and his followers, being yet hot with the murder, marched in a-body from the fenate houtė-. to the Capitol, with their drawn fwords, with an air of con.. fidence and affurance." And, in the life of Bruas, Brutus and his party betook thenfelves to the Capitol, and in their way thewing their hands all bloody, and their naked fwords, proclaimed liberty to the people."

And let us bathe our hands in Cæfa s blood
Up to the elbows, and befmea our fwords;
Then walk we forth even to the Market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, peace! freedom! and liberty!
Caf. Stoop then, and wafh--How many ages hence
[Dipping their Swords in Cafar's Blood.
Shall this our lofty fcene be acted o'er,

In ftates unborn, and accents yet unknown!
Bru. How many times fhall Cæfar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's bafis lyes along,
No worthier than the duft!

Caf. So oft as that shall be,.

So often fhall the knot of us be called.
The men that gave their country liberty.
Dec. What, fhall we forth?

Caf Ay, every man away.

Brutus fhall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldest and beft hearts of Rome.

Enter a Servant..

Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's..
Ser. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; [Kneeling..
And, being proftrate, thus he bade me fay:
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant and honeft;
Cefar was mighty, royal, bold and loving;
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I feared Cæfar, honoured him, and loved him.
If Brutus will vouchfafe that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolved.
How Cæfar hath deferved to ly in death,
Mark Antony thall not love Cæfar dead,
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod ftate,,

With all true faith. So fays my mafter Antony.
Bru. Thy mafter is a wife and valiant Roman;
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, fo pleafe him come unto this place,
He fhall be fatisfied; and, by my honour,
Depart untouched.

Serv. I'll fetch him prefently.

[Exit Servant.

Bru. I know that we shall have him well to

friend.

Caf. I wish we may: but yet have I a mind That fears him much; and my mifgiving ftill Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

Enter ANTONY.

Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark
Antony.

Ant. O mighty Cæfar! doft thou ly fo low?
Are all thy conquefts, glories, triumphs, fpoils,
(19) Shrunk to this little measure ?---Fare thee well.
I know not, Gentlemen, what you intend;
Who else must be let blood, who elfe is rank:
If I my felf, there is no hour fo fit

As Cæfar's death's hour; nor no inftrument
Of half that worth as thofe your fwords, made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world. ·
I do befeech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now whilit your purpled hands do reek and fmoak,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I fhall not find myfelf fo apt to die:

No place will please me fo, no mean of death,
As here by Cæfar, and by you cut off,

The choice and mafter fpirits of this

age.

Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us:

(19) Shrunk to this little measure?] Perhaps our Poet might have Juvenal in his view here;

-Mors fola fatetur,

Quentula fint hominum corpuscula.