 | The Tragedy of Julius Caesar |  |
ACT IV.
Anthony, Octavius, Lepidus discover'd.Anth.
These many then shall dye—their Names are prick'd.
Octa.
Your Brother too must dye—Consent you Lepidus?
Lep.
I do Consent.
Octa.
Prick him down Anthony.
Lep.
Upon Condition, Publius shall not Live,
Who is your Sisters Son, Mark Anthony.
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He shall not Live—Look with a Spot I damn him.
But Lepidus, go you to Cæsars house,
Fetch the Will hither, and we shall determine
How to Cut off some Charge in Legacies.
Lep.
What, Shall I find you here?
[Exit.
Octa.
Or Here, or at the Capitol.
Ant.
This is a slight unmeritable Man,
Meet to be sent on Errands—Is it fit,
The threefold World divided, he shou'd stand
One of the three to share it.
Octa.
So you thought him,
And took his Voice, who shou'd be prick'd to dye,
In our black Sentence, and Proscription.
Ant.
Octavius, I have seen more Days then you
And tho' we lay these Honours on this Man
To ease our selves of diverse slanderous Loads,
He shall but bear them, as the Ass bears Gold,
To Groan and Sweat under the Business,
Either led or driven, as we point the way.
And having brought our Treasure where we will,
Then take we down his Load, and turn him off.
(Like to the empty Ass) to shake his Ears,
And graze in Commons.
Octa.
You may do your Will,
But he's a try'd, and valiant Soldier.
Ant.
So is my Horse, Octavius, and for that,
I do appoint him store of Provender.
It is a Creature that I teach to Fight,
To wind, to Stop, to run directly on:
His Corporal motion, govern'd by my Spirit,
And in some taste, is Lepidus but so:
Do not talk of him,
But as a Property; and now Octavius,
Listen great Things—Brutus and Cassius
Are levying Powers: We must straight make Head,
Therefore let our Alliance be combin'd,
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And let us presently go sit in Council,
How covert Matters may be best disclos'd,
And open Perils surest answer'd.
Octa.
Let us do so—for we are at the Stake,
And bayed about with many Enemies—
And some that smile, have in their Hearts, I fear,
Million of Mischiefs—March here.
[Exeunt.
Enter Brutus, Lucilius, and Soldiers, meeting Caska, and Pindarus.
Brut.
Stand, ho!
Luc.
Give the Word ho, and stand!
Brut.
What now Lucilius, is Cassius near?
Luc.
He is at Hand, and Pindarus is come,
To do you Salutation from his Master.
Brut.
He greets me well—Your Master Pindarus
In his own Change, or by ill Officers,
Hath giv'n me some worthy Cause to wish
Things done, undone,—but if he be at hand,
I shall be satisfy'd.
Pin.
I do not doubt,
But that my noble Master will appear
Such as he is, full of Regard, and Honour.
Brut.
He is not doubted—a Word, Lucilius,
How he receiv'd you, let me be resolv'd.
Luc.
With Courtesy—and with Respect enough,
But not with such familiar Instances,
Nor with such free, and friendly Conference,
As he hath us'd of old—
Brut.
Thou hast describ'd
A hot Friend, cooling: Ever note Lucilius,
When Love begins to sicken and decay,
Is useth an enforced Ceremony
There are no Tricks in plain and simple Faith,
But hollow Men, like Horses hot at hand,
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But when they shou'd endure the bloody Spur,
They fall their Crests, and like deceitful Jades,
Sink in the Tryal—Comes his Army on?
Luc.
They mean this Night in Sardis to be quarter'd:
The greater Part, the Horse, in general,
Are come with Cassius.
[March here.
Enter Cassius, and Soldiers.
Brut.
Hark, he is arriv'd.
March gently on to meet him.
Cassi.
Stand, ho!
Brut.
Stand, ho. Speak the Word along—
Stand.
Stand.
Stand.
Cassi.
Most noble Brother, you have done me Wrong.
Brut.
Judge me, ye Gods; wrong I mine Enemies?
And if not so, how shou'd I wrong a Brother.
Cassi.
Brutus, this sober Form of your hides Wrongs,
And when you do them—
Brut.
Cassius, be content.
Speak your Griefs softly, I do know you well.
Before the Eyes of both our Armies here
(Which shou'd perceive nothing but Love from us)
Let us not Wrangle—bid them move away,
Then in my Tent Cassius, enlarge your Griefs,
And I will give you audience—
Cassi.
Pindarus,
Bid our Commanders lead their Charges off
A little from this Ground.
Brut.
Lucilius, do you the like, and let no Man
Come to our Tent, till we have done our Conference.
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[Exeunt.
Re-enter Brutus, and Cassius.
Cassi.
That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this.
You have condemn'd, and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking Bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my Letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the Man, was slighted of.
Brut.
You wrong'd your self, to write in such a Case.
Cassi.
In such a time as this, it it not meet
That ev'ry nice Offence shou'd bear his Comment.
Brut.
Let me tell you Cassius, you your self
Are much condemn'd to have an itching Palm,
To sell and mart your Offices for Gold,
To Undeservers.
Cassi.
I an itching Palm?
You know that you are Brutus that speaks this,
Or by the Gods, this Speech were else your last.
Brut.
This Name of Cassius Honours this Corruption
And Chastisement doth therefore hide his Head.
Cassi.
Chastisement!
Brut.
Remember March, the Ides of March remember,
Did not great Julius bleed for Justice sake.
What Villain touch'd his Body, that did stab,
And not for Justice—What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost Man of all this World,
But for supporting Robbers—Shall we now,
Contaminate our Fingers with base Bribes?
And sell the mighty Space of our large Honours,
For so much Trash, as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a Dog, and bay the Moon,
Than such a Roman—
Cassi.
Brutus, bait not me,
I'll not endure it.
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Older in practice, abler than your self,
To make Conditions.
Brut.
Go to, You are not Cassius.
Cassi.
I am.
Brut.
Away, slight Man.
Cassi.
Is't Possible?
Brut.
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash Choler,
Shall I be frighted when a Madman Stares?
Cassi.
O ye Gods, ye Gods, must I endure all this?
Brut.
All this? Ay, more: fret till your proud heart break:
Go, shew your Slaves how Cholerick you are,
And make your Bondmen tremble: must I bow?
Must I observe you: must I stand and Crouch
Under your testy Humour? by the Gods
You shall digest the Venom of your Spleen,
Tho' it do split you—for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea for my Laughter,
When you are waspish—
Cassi.
Is it Come to this?
Brut.
You say, you are a better Soldier;
Let it appear so: Make your Vaunting true,
And it shall please me well—for mine own part;
I shall be glad to learn of noble Men—
Cassi.
You wrong me ev'ry way
You wrong me Brutus—
I said an Elder Soldier, not better.
Did I say better?
Brut.
If you did I care not.
Cassi.
When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me
Brut.
Peace, peace, you durst not so have tempted him.
Cassi.
I durst not?
Brut.
No, I durst not!
Cassi.
What, durst not tempt him?
58
For your Life you durst not.
Cassi.
Do not presume two much upon my Love;
I may do that I shall be sorry for.
Brut.
You have done that you shou'd be sorry for.
There is no terror Cassius, in your threats
For I am Arm'd so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle Wind;
Which I respect not—I did send to you
For certain Sums of Gold,
For I can raise no Money by vile means;
By Heav'n I had rather Coin my heart;
And drop my Blood for Drachma's, than to wring
From the hard hand of Peasants there vile trash
By any indirection—I did send
To you for Gold to pay my Legions,
Which you deny'd me—was that done like Cassius?
Shou'd I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so Covetous,
To lock such Rascal Counters from his Friends,
Be ready Gods, with all your Thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces.
Cassi.
I deny'd you not.
Brut.
You did.
Cassi.
I did not. He was but a fool
That brought my Answer back: Brutus hath riv'd my Heart.
A Friend shou'd bear his Friends Infirmities.
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Brut.
I do not, 'till you practice them on me.
Cassi.
You Love me not.
Brut.
I do not like your faults.
Cassi.
A Friendly Eye cou'd never see such faults
Brut.
A Flatterer's wou'd not, tho' they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
Cassi.
Come Anthony, and young Octavius come,
Revenge your selves alone on Cassius,
59
Hated by one he Loves, brav'd by his Brother;
Check'd like a Bondman, all his Faults observ'd,
Set in a Note Book, Learn'd, and Conn'd by Roat,
To cast into my Teeth—O! I cou'd Weep
My Spirit from my Eyes—There is my Dagger,
And here my naked Breast—Within a Heart
Dearer than Pluto's mine, Richer than Gold.
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth,
I that deny'd thee Gold, will give my Heart;
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar, for I know
When thou did'st hate him worst, thou lovd'st him
Better,
Than ever thou lovd'st Cassius.
Brut.
Sheath your Dagger,
Be angry when you will,
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius, you are Yoked with a Lamb,
That carries Anger, as a Flint bears Fire
Who much Enforced, shews a hasty Spark,
And straight is Cold agen.
Cassi.
Hath Cassius Liv'd
To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus,
When Grief, and Blood ill temper'd, vexeth him.
Brut.
When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too:
Cassi.
Do you confess so much—Give me your hand
Brut.
And my heart too:
Cassi.
O Brutus, Brutus.
Brut.
What's the matter?
Cassi.
Have not you Love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my Mother gave me;
Makes me forgetful.
Brut.
Yes, Cassius, and henceforth,
When you are over earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your Mother chides, and leave you so:
Bid the Commanders Lucius
60
Cassi.
And bring Messala with you,
Immediately to us.
Brut.
Lucilius, a Bowl of Wine.
Cassi.
I did not think you cou'd have been so Angry.
Brut.
O Cassius, I am sick of many Griefs,
Cassi.
Of your Philosophy you make no use;
If you give place to accidental evils.
Brut.
No Man bears sorrow better—Portia is dead.
Cassi.
Ha Portia!
Brut.
She is dead.
Cassi.
How scap'd I killing, when I Crost you so?
Upon what Sickness.
Brut.
Impatient of my absence,
And grief, that young Octavius, with Mark Anthony
Have made themselves so strong: for with her death.
That tydings came—with this she fell distracted,
And (her attendants absent) swallow'd fire.
Cassi.
And dy'd so:
Brut.
Ev'n so:
Cassi.
O ye Immortal Gods!
Enter Boy with Wine.
Brut.
Speak no more of her: Give me a Bowl of Wine.
In this I buy all unkindness, Cassius.
Cassi.
My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.
Fill Lucius, till the wine o'reswel the Cup.
I cannot drink too much of Brutus Love.
Enter Messala and Caska.
Brut.
Come in Caska.
Welcome, Good Messala.
Now sit we down
And call in Question our necessities.
Cassi.
Portia, Art thou gone?
61
No more, I pray you.
Messala, I have here receiv'd Letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Anthony
Come down upon us with a mighty Power
Bending their Expedition toward Philippi.
Mess.
My self have Letters of the self same Tenure.
Brut.
With what Addition?
Mess.
That by Proscription, and bills of outlawry,
Octavius, Anthony, and Lepidus
Have put to death an hundred Senators.
Brut.
Therein our Letters do not well agree,
Mine speak of seventy Senators that dy'd,
By their Proscriptions—Cicero being one.
Cass.
Cicero one!
Mess.
Cicero is dead, and by that order of Proscription.
Had you your Letters from your Wife, my Lord?
Brut.
No Messala.
Mess.
Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her.
Brut.
Nothing Messala.
Mess.
That methinks is strange.
Brut.
Why ask you?
Hear you ought of her in yours?
Mess.
No, my Lord.
Brut.
Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
Mess.
Then like a Roman, bear the truth I tell.
For certain she is dead, and by strange manner
Brut.
Why farewel Portia—we must die; Messala,
With meditating that she must die once
I have the Patience to endure it now.
Mess.
Ev'n so great Men great losses shou'd endure.
Cass.
I have as much of this in art, as you.
But yet my Nature cou'd not bear it so:
Brut.
Well to our Work alive—what do you think
Of marching to Philippi presently.
62
I do not think it Good.
Brut.
Your Reason?
Cass.
This it is.
'Tis better that the Enemy seeks us
So shall he waste his means, weary his Soldiers,
Doing himself offence—whilst we lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.
Brut.
Good reasons must, of force, give way to better,
The People, 'twixt Philippi and this Ground,
Do stand but in a forc'd affection—
For they have grudg'd us Contributio—
The Enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresh'd, new added, and encourag'd.
From which advantage shall we cut him off;
If at Philippi we do face him there;
These People at our back.
Cass.
Hear me, good Brother.
Brut.
Under your pardon, you must note beside
That we have try'd the utmost of our Friends;
Our Legions are brim full, our Cause is ripe,
The Enemy encreaseth ev'ry day,
We at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tyde in the affairs of Men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to Fortune;
Omitted, all the Voyage of their Life
Is bound in Shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full Sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
Cass.
Then with your will go on—we'l along
Our selves, and meet them at Philippi.
Brut.
The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And Nature must obey necessity—
63
Cass.
No more—Good night;
Early to morrow will we rise—and hence.
Brut.
Farewel, Good Messala,
Good night Caska—noble, noble, Cassius,
Good night, and good repose.
Cass.
O my dear Brother!
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such Division 'tween our Souls.
Let it not Brutus.
Brut.
Ev'ry thing is well—
Cass.
Good night, my Lord.
Brut.
Good night good brother.
Mess.
Good night, Lord Brutus.
[Exeunt.
Brut.
Farewel ev'ry one.
Where is thy Instrument?
Luc.
Here in the tent
Brut.
What, thou speak'st drowsily;
Poor knave, I blame thee not—thou art o'erwatch'd.
Call Claudio, and some other of my Men,
I'll have them sleep on Cushions in my tent.
Luc.
Varrus, and Claudio.
Enter Varrus and Claudio.
Var.
My Lord!
Brut.
I pray you sirs, lie in my tent and sleep,
It may be I shall raise you by and by
On business to my Brother Cassius—
Var.
So please you, we will stand,
And watch your pleasure—
Brut.
I will not have it so—Lie down, good sirs,
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
Lucius,
Can'st thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,
And touch thy Instrument a strain or two.
Luc.
I my Lord, an't please you.
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It does my Boy.
I trouble thee too much—but thou art willing.
Luc.
It is my duty Sir.
Brut.
I should not urge thy duty past thy might.
I know young bloods look for a time of rest—
Luc.
I have slept my Lord, already.
Brut.
It was well done, and thou shalt sleep agen,
I will not hold thee long, if I do live,
I will be good to thee—
[Musick here behind.
Brut.
This is a sleepy tune—O Murderous Slumber!
Lay'st thou thy leaden Mace upon my Boy,
That plays thee Musick—gentle knave, Good night,
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee,
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy Instrument,
I'll take it from thee, and good boy, Good night
[Ghost of Cæsar Rises.
Let me see, let me see—is not the leaf turn'd down
Where I left reading? here it is, I think.
How ill this taper burns! ha, who comes here!
I think it is the weakness of my eyes,
That shapes this Monstrous Apparition?
It comes upon me—art thou any thing?
Art thou some God, some Angel, or some Devil,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to Stair?
Speak to me, what thou art.
Ghost.
Thy evil Spirit Brutus.
Brut.
Why com'st thou?
Ghost.
To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Brut.
Well, then I shall see thee agen
Ghost.
I, at Philippi.
Brut.
Why, I will see thee at Philippi then—
[Ring down
Now I have taken heart, thou Vanishest,
Ill Spirit, I wou'd hold more talk with thee.
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Claudio.
Luc.
The Strings, my Lord, are false—
Brut.
He thinks he still is at his Instrument.
Lucius awake.
Luc.
My Lord.
Brut.
Did'st thou dream Lucius, that thou so cryd'st out?
Luc.
My Lord, I do not know that I did cry.
Brut.
Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?
Luc.
Nothing my Lord.
Brut.
Lucius—Sirrah, Claudio, fellow.
Thou awake—
Var.
My Lord.
Clad.
My Lord.
Brut.
Why did you so cry out sirs in your sleep?
Both.
Did we, my Lord?
Brut.
I—saw you any thing.
Vac.
No my Lord, I saw nothing.
Claud.
Nor I my Lord.
Brut.
Go and Commend me to my brother Cassius,
Bid him set on his powers, betimes before,
And we will follow.
Both.
It shall be done, my Lord—
[Exeunt.
Brut.
Sure they have raised some Devil to their aid,
And think to frighten Brutus with a shade.
But e're the night closes this fatal Day,
I'll send more Ghosts this visit to repay—
[Exit.
| The Tragedy of Julius Caesar | |