But woe the while, our Fathers mindes are dead,
And we are govern'd with our Mothers spirits,
Our yoake, and sufferance, shew us Womanish.

Cask. Indeed, they say, the Senators to morrow
Meane to establish Cæsar as a King:

And he shall weare his Crowne by Sea, and Land,
In every place, save here in Italy.

Cassi. I know where I will weare this Dagger then; Cassius from Bondage will deliver Cassius:

100

Therein, yee Gods, you make the weake most strong;
Therein, yee Gods, you Tyrants doe defeat.
Nor Stonie Tower, nor Walls of beaten Brasse,
Nor ayre-lesse Dungeon, nor strong Linkes of Iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit:

But Life being wearie of these worldly Barres,
Never lacks power to dismisse it selfe.

If I know this, know all the World besides,
That part of Tyrannie that I doe beare,
I can shake off at pleasure.

So

Cask. So can I:

Thunder still.

IIO

every Bond-man in his owne hand beares The power to cancell his Captivitie.

Cassi. And why should Cæsar be a Tyrant then? Poore man, I know he would not be a Wolfe, But that he sees the Romans are but Sheepe: He were no Lyon, were not Romans Hindes. Those that with haste will make a mightie fire, Begin it with weake Strawes. What trash is Rome? What Rubbish, and what Offall? when it serves For the base matter, to illuminate So vile a thing as Cæsar. Where hast thou led me? Before a willing Bond-man: My answere must be made.

But oh Griefe,
I (perhaps) speake this
then I know

But I am arm'd,

I 20

And dangers are to me indifferent.

Cask. You speake to Caska, and to such a man,
That is no flearing Tell-tale. Hold, my Hand:
Be factious1 for redresse of all these Griefes,
And I will set this foot of mine as farre,
As who goes farthest.

Cassi. There's a Bargaine made.

130

1importunate

Now know you, Caska, I have mov'd already
Some certaine of the Noblest minded Romans
To under-goe, with me, an Enterprize,
Of Honorable dangerous consequence;
And I doe know by this, they stay for me
In Pompeyes Porch: for now this fearefull Night,
There is no stirre, or walking in the streetes;
And the Complexion of the Element

Is Favors, like the Worke we have in hand,
Most bloodie, fierie, and most terrible.

Enter Cinna.

140

Caska. Stand close a while, for heere comes one in haste.

Cassi. 'Tis Cinna, I doe know him by his Gate, He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so?

Cinna. To finde out you: Who's that, Metellus Cymber? Cassi. No, it is Caska, one incorporate

Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

To our Attempts.

Cinna. I am glad on't.

What a fearefull Night is this?

150

There's two or three of us have seene strange sights.

Cassi. Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

Cinna. Yes, you are. O Cassius,

152-3. 1 1.-ROWE.

144-5. verse-Rowe. 148-9. verse-RowE. 155-8. 3 11. ending are, could, party-2SINGER.

If

you

could but winne the Noble Brutus

To our party

Cassi. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this Paper, And looke you lay it in the Pretors Chayre,

Where Brutus may but finde it: and throw this
In at his Window; set this up with Waxe
Upon old Brutus Statue: all this done,

160

Repaire to Pompeyes Porch, where you shall finde us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

Cinna. All, but Metellus Cymber, and hee's gone
To seeke you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these Papers as you bad me.
Cassi. That done, repayre to Pompeyes Theater.
Exit Cinna.
Come Caska, you and I will yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
Is ours alreadie, and the man entire
Upon the next encounter, yeelds him ours.

Cask. O, he sits high in all the Peoples hearts:
And that which would appeare Offence in us,
His Countenance, like richest Alchymie,

Will change to Vertue, and to Worthinesse.

170

180

Cassi. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him, You have right well conceited: let us goe, For it is after Mid-night, and ere day, We will awake him, and be sure of him.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

[Scene i. Rome. Brutus's orchard.]

Enter Brutus in his Orchard.

Brut. What Lucius, hoe?

I cannot, by the progresse of the Starres,

Give guesse how neere to day—Lucius, I say?
I would it were my fault to sleepe so soundly.
When Lucius, when? awake, I say: what Lucius?

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Call'd you, my Lord?

Brut. Get me a Tapor in my Study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc. I will, my Lord.

Exit.

ΙΟ

20

Brut. It must be by his death: and for my part,
I know no personall cause, to spurne at him,
But for the generall. 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 warie walking: Crowne him that,
And then I graunt we put a Sting in him,
That at his will he may doe danger with.
Th'abuse of Greatnesse, is, when it dis-joynes
Remorse from Power: And to speake truth of Cæsar,
I have not knowne, when his Affections sway'd
More then his Reason. But 'tis a common proofe,
That Lowlynesse is young Ambitions Ladder,
Whereto the Climber upward turnes his Face:
But when he once attaines the upmost Round,
He then unto the Ladder turnes his Backe,

Lookes in the Clouds, scorning the base degrees1
By which he did ascend: so Cæsar may; 1steps 30
Then least he may, prevent. And since the Quarrell
Will beare no colour, for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would runne to these, and these extremities:
And therefore thinke him as a Serpents egge,
Which hatch'd, would as his kinde grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell.

18. Crowne bim that: Crown him? that; -CAMBRIDGE.

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 lye there when I went to Bed.

Gives him the Letter.

Brut. Get you to Bed againe, it is not day: Is not to morrow (Boy) the first of March? Luc. I know not, Sir.

40

Brut. Looke in the Calender, and bring me word. Luc. I will, Sir.

Exit. Brut. The exhalations, whizzing in the ayre, Give so much light, that I may reade by them.

Opens the Letter, and reades. Brutus thou sleep'st; awake, and see thy selfe: Shall Rome, &c. speake, strike, redresse. Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake.

Such instigations have beene often dropt,

Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out:

Where I have tooke them up:

50

Shall Rome stand under one mans awe? What Rome?
My Ancestors did from the streetes of Rome

The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a King.
Speake, strike, redresse. Am I entreated

60

To speake, and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise,
If the redresse will follow, thou receivest
Thy full Petition at the hand of Brutus.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fifteene dayes.

66. fifteene: fourteen-THEOBALD.

Knocke within.