University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter two Roman Senators at one Door, Trebonius and Casca at another.
1 Senator.
Hail, good Trebonius.

2 Senator.
Health to worthy Casca.
Will you go with us to the Sports to-day?

1 Senator.
Before this Cæsar's Time, we had no Shews
Magnificent as these.

Trebonius.
But we had Triumphs:
And tho' the Conqueror sat high exalted,
We all partook both of his Fame and Merit:
The gaz'd-on Warrior in the gilded Chariot
Enjoy'd his Fill of Fame, but, as Rome's Subject:
And, to his great Renown in glorious Arms,
A higher, much more valu'd Crown, was added;
Immortal Praise for serving well his Country.

Casca.
Oh how our Hearts were fir'd at Pompey's Triumphs!
The Blood more lively danc'd within our Veins:
The very Image of it strikes my Fancy!
Methinks I see a thousand noble Captives
Drooping with Grief, which yet was lighter made
By his kind Usage. After came the Treasures;
Our Treasures! for it was not then as now,
When one Man's greedy Gripe ingrosses all.
We did not, as Law-Suiters for Contention,
Disburse more Charges than the Prize was worth;
Grow Beggars, only to make others rich.

Trebonius.
But then, at last, behold ev'n captive Kings
In golden Chains with pensive Thought look down,
Remembring they had us'd their Subjects worse.

Casca.
Yet shew'd a gloomy Comfort through their Sadness,
For being vanquish'd by so brave a People.

Trebonius.
Which of us, then, oh which of us went home
From such a Spectacle unmov'd with Joy,
With virtuous Pride, to see our Blood well spent,
Our Treasures manag'd, and our Glory rais'd?

Casca.
Yet ev'n to Pompey, Chief of all our State,
No Roman but disdain'd a mean Submission;
A Tribute only owing to the Gods.

Trebonius.
But now we crouch, and stand in servile Awe;
Like Children, fear the Goblin we have made.
This Cæsar, tho' Dictator, is our Creature,
And from Election all his Pride proceeds.

Casca.
We meet these Murmurs now in ev'ry Mouth;
Ill-boding Sounds to late unsettled Pow'r,
Like new-built Houses, easily blown down.

Trebonius.
Ye Cæsar, still intrepidly serene,
Goes proudly on, despising us, and Danger.

SCENE II.

Enter a Croud of common Tradesmen.
Casca.
What's all this Croud, and whither are ye going,
My gazing Fellow-Citizens? To wait
On your own Shame, and stare upon your Bondage?

1 Tradesman.
I know not what you mean by Shame and Bondage:
We go to see great Cæsar, and the Sports.

Casca.
And much good do you, Friend: You little think,
The Man you so admire would be your Master.

Tradesman.
My Master! He would scorn so mean a Servant.
I hope you will not jest at mighty Cæsar!

[Casca laughs.
Casca.
I only laugh at you for loving Cæsar.

Tradesman.
Oh, is that all? Well, Sir, make bold with me;
But have a care of meddling with your Betters.

Casca.
Betters! Thou sawcy Citizen, be silent.

Tradesman.
Then I am hush'd. Speak you, Sir.

Casca.
What, to Fools?
To Men, whose Minds are sunk in low Submission?
Born free, and yet contented to be Slaves?
Form'd like the dull strong Horse, to bear a Rider?
Well, we may wish, and vent our Rage in Curses:
May Cæsar—

Tradesman.
Hold; and hear if he speaks Treason.

Casca.
May Cæsar live, as long as good Men wish him!

Tradesman.
Why, what does this Man mean? he prays for Cæsar.
Long may he live Rome's great, and wise Dictator!

Trebonius.
Oh, my good Friends, how blind are those Desires!
Did you but know how much you curse yourselves,
No People, sure, would be such Self-destroyers,
Tho' but in Wish. Did ever Men before
Pray for Continuance of a Tyrant Ague
That shakes their very Souls? See, how Rome trembles,
And looks all pale, with Loss of guiltless Blood!
Who has not lost a Kinsman, or a Friend,
Whose honest Life the War has sacrific'd
To this Man's wild Ambition?
Nay, are not you dead too? since in his Pow'r
To kill you when he pleases? with this Diff'rence;
That Death, once come, frees you from all its Force,
Which ev'ry Hour ye now expect with Terror.
Before this fatal Time each good Man here
Was Master of the World, and shar'd the Pow'r;
Kings waited on your Votes, and watch'd your Wills:
But now (I weep to say how sad a Change!)
The Greatness, nay the Goodness of this Cæsar,
Is founded on our Baseness: For, alas!
What must we be, to be forgiv'n by him?
And do you think, because he gives you Pleasures,
Treats you with Shows, and popular Appearance,
That all this seeming Softness is not Shadow?
A very Trick to lull your Thoughts asleep,
And then subject them? make them mild, and tame,
Fit for the servile Use of being Subjects?
Those lofty Thoughts, which, like true mettled Hawks,
Were us'd to fly so strong, and soar so high,
Which Nature has design'd to prey on Tyrants,
And not to serve them; now are whistled off
With ev'ry Pageant Pomp, and gawdy Show.
For shame! repent of such a childish Folly;
And rather tear, like Cato, your own Bowels,
Than live to see your Country torn by Tyrants.

Casca.
And Pompey too, methinks, should be remember'd,
Who died for you so lately; on whose Ruin
This Cæsar stands, and scorns us all beneath him.

Trebonius.
See if they are not mov'd; the Roman Soul
Now swells within them. Go, my worthy Friends;
And, if you needs will see your Tyrant's Triumph,
Gaze on him then with angry envious Eyes:
Be ev'ry one a Basilisk to him;
Kill him with staring.

Ist Citizen.
Farewel, worthy Lords!
You love your Country, and we love you for it.

Trebonius.
Shall we not be accus'd for this?

Casca.
No matter;
We break no Laws either of Gods or Men:
So, if we fall, it is with Reputation;
A Fate which Cowards shun, and brave Men seek.
If Cæsar punish Men for speaking Truth,
My honest Tongue shall dare his utmost Doom.
But here he comes, with all that Pomp and Pride
In which young Pow'r so childishly delights.

SCENE III.

Enter Cæsar attended by Antony, Brutus, Cassius, and many other Senators: Sits down in a magnificent Seat, to behold several Divertisements after the Roman manner. When the Sports are ended, Antony presents him a Crown.
Antonius.
Hail, mighty Man! thou Godlike Cæsar, hail!
Stoop to our Wishes, and vouchsafe to wear
This Crown, presented thee by all Mankind:
Shine on us, like the Sun, in your full Lustre;
While Rome reviv'd lies basking in your Beams,
And flourishes beneath that kindly Heat.
Adorn us with your Pow'r, and make us proud
Of being Subjects to so great a King.

Cæsar.
I am not call'd your King, but your Dictator; [Cæsar descends from his Seat to the middle of the Stage.

A Name, I hope, that bears as great a Sound;
If not, 'tis no vain Titles that can help it:
Therefore I both refuse, and slight a Crown, [He puts back the Crown with his Hand, at which the People shout for Joy.

Which can add nothing to my Power, or Rome's.
I'm glad, my Friends, you are so easily pleas'd
With my refusing what I think below me;
Were it above me, I should quickly reach it.
Your Kings, it seems, exerted Pow'r so ill,
That you expell'd the hated Name for ever.
But 'tis the Tyranny, not Name, ye fear;
And that my Soul abhors, as much as you.
Witness, ye Gods, I have no other Aim
Than to advance your Good, and my own Honour.

Antonius.
Take then this Crown, which seems so much for both; [Offering the Crown once more.

For Pow'r well plac'd, can never be too great.

Cæsar.
Again! this needs not; 'tis unseemly Joy; [Cæsar refuses it, and they shout a second time.

It looks as if you doubted me before,
And are surpriz'd to find my Moderation.

Antonius.
'Tis I, Sir, am surpriz'd; but 'tis with Grief, [He offers the Crown the third time.

To see you shun a Pow'r, you ought to seek;
At least, reject it not with such Irrev'rence;
Crowns are the fairest Presents of the Gods.

Cæsar.
Again! [He refuses it again, and they shout the third time.

Peace, you unmannerly, unthinking Croud!
Are you so pleas'd? and have I no way left
But this, to be as popular as Pompey?
How have I us'd my Pow'r, that you should fear it?
Then, to be more secure, here take my Life;
I freely offer it to ev'ry Roman:
Let out that Blood, you think boils with Ambition;
I'd rather lose it, than out-live my Fame;
Nor wou'd accept of Pow'r, unless to please.
I feel their Pulses, and I find them beat [To Antony aside.

Fev'rish, and high, unfit for my Designs:
Their Reason lost, they rave for Liberty,
Like Lunaticks, confin'd for their own Good,
Strive for a fatal Freedom to be ruin'd.

Antonius.
Therefore in Pity, Sir, restrain them more.

Cæsar.
I'll guard them from themselves, their own worst Foes;
And will have Pow'r to do whate'er I please;
Yet bear my Thunder in a gentle Hand.
Like Jove, I'll sit above; but 'tis to show
My Love and Care of all the World below.

Enter a Messenger.
Messenger.
Some other Sports are in the Field of Mars,
And only wait your Presence.

Cæsar.
Let us go.
The Ev'ning is far spent, it will be dark;
And I, thou know'st, have not been well To-day.

[To Brutus.
Exeunt Cæsar, and Antony.

SCENE IV.

Cassius.
Will you not wait on Cæsar to the Course?

Brutus.
Not I.

Cassius,
How so?

Brutus.
I am not fit for Sports;
I want the airy Humour of Marc Antony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your Desires.

Cassius.
Brutus, I have observ'd you much of late;
I have not from your Eyes that Gentleness,
And Show of Love, which I was us'd to find:
Pardon my Cares, that only come from Kindness;
Your Carriage is a little too reserv'd,
And strange, to Friends who would be more familiar.

Brutus.
Cassius, mistake me not: If I have veil'd
My Look, I turn the Trouble of my Countenance
Merely upon myself: I am of late
Troubled with Passions of a diff'rent Nature,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
Which give perhaps some Soil to my Behaviour.
But let not therefore my good Friends complain,
(Amongst which Number Cassius is the chief)
Nor misinterpret farther my Neglect;
But think poor Brutus, with himself at War,
Forgets the Shows of Love to other Men.

Cassius.
I am most glad to find I was mistaken.
That Error made this Breast of mine conceal
Thoughts of great Value, worthy of your Ear:
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your Face?

Brutus.
No, Cassius; for, the Eye sees not itself,
But by Reflexion from some other thing.

Cassius.
'Tis just: Then know, 'tis much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such Mirror as might show
(Spite of your Modesty) your own hid Worth;
That you for once might see the noble Shadow.
I have heard some, of the best Rank in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar) talk of Brutus;
And groaning underneath this Age's Yoke,
Have wish'd, that noble Brutus had his Eyes.

Brutus.
Into what Dangers wou'd you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me look into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cassius.
Brutus, hear;
And since, you know, you cannot see yourself
So well as by Reflexion; I, your Glass,
Will without all Disguise discover now
That of yourself, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus.
Were I some slight Buffoon, or us'd to flatter,
To cloy each Man I meet with proffer'd Love,
And then betray him; did I use to fawn,
And hug Men hard, then crush them with my Scandal;
Or if you ever knew me riotous
To Loss of Reason; then you might suspect me.
What Shouts are these?

[A great Shout.
Brutus.
I hope, like those just now,
For Joy that Cæsar has refus'd the Crown.

Cassius.
If you hope that, you would not have him King.

Brutus.
I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.

Cassius.
And do you think he would forgive that Wish,
Or would accept your Love, with that Allay?

Brutus.
If just, he will; and, if unjust, I care not.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
I see you labour with some weighty thing.
If it be tow'rds the gen'ral Good, speak quickly;
I am in Haste to meet your noble Thoughts.
Set Virtue in my Eye, and let grim Death
Shake his unheeded Dart, I'll still be fix'd.
For, may the Gods so help me, as, for Honour,
I look indiff'rently on Life or Death.

Cassius.
I know your Virtue, Brutus, and dare trust it.
Well, Honour is the Subject of my Story.
I cannot tell what you and other Men
Think of this Life; but for my single self,
I'll chuse much rather not to live at all,
Than live to be in Awe of any thing.
I was born free as Cæsar; so are you:
We both are bred as well; and we can both
Endure the Winter's Cold as well as he.
For, once, upon a raw and gusty Day,
The troubled Tiber turn'd into a Foam,
Cæsar says to me, Cassius, dar'st thou now
Leap in with me into this angry Flood,
And swim to yonder Point? Upon the Word,
Accoutred as I was, I plung'd me in,
And bade him follow; so indeed he did:
The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty Sinews, throwing it aside;
But yet, ere we could reach the Point propos'd,
Cæsar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or I sink!
Just as Æneas, our great Ancestor,
Did from the Flames of Troy bear on his Shoulders
The old Anchises, I from Tiber's Waves
Bore the tir'd Cæsar: Yet this feeble Man
Is now become a God; and Cassius is
A wretched Creature, and must bend his Body,
If Cæsar give him but a careless Nod.
A strange Disease possesses him sometimes:
This Day I saw him fall into his Fit:
(That which delay'd the Sports till Afternoon.)
This God has fall'n to Ground, and foam'd at Mouth;
His Limbs have trembled, and his Eyes have roll'd;
Yet now his Look must awe the trembling World.
Nay, I have heard him groan, like a sick Girl;
And that smooth Tongue which us'd to move so much,
And make the Romans set down all it said,
Would faulter then, and stammer out strange things.
Gods! why should one of such a feeble Temper
Be set upon the Top of all this World,
To look, down on Mankind?

[A Shout.
Brutus.
Another Shout! sure Rome is turn'd a Revel! [Another Shout.

I fear at least they crown him with Applause.

Cassius.
Why, Man, he now bestrides the narrow World,
Like a Colossus; and we petty Men
Walk under his huge Legs, and peep about,
To find ourselves dishonourable Graves.
Men, at some times, are Masters of their Fates;
The Fault, dear Brutus, is not in our Stars,
But in our selves, that we are Underlings.
Brutus and Cæsar! where's the Difference?
Why should that Name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a Name;
Shout Brutus, and the Echo is as loud:
Brutus and Cæsar! Conjure with those Names,
Brutus will start a Spirit, as soon as Cæsar.
Now in the Name of all the Gods at once,
On what high Fame does this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd!
Rome, thou hast lost thy Breed of noble Blood!
When did there pass an Age, since Time first was,
That the whole World resounded but one Man?
When could they say, till now, who talk'd of Rome,
That her wide Walls contain'd one single Hero?
O, you and I have heard our Fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, who kill'd his Sons,
And would have slain his dearest Friend, nay Father,
Rather than suffer Rome to be enslav'd.

Brutus.
That Cassius loves me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to, I have some Aim;
How I have thought of this, and of these Times,
I shall recount hereafter; for this present,
I would not (if with Love I might intreat it)
Be any farther mov'd. What you have said,
I will consider; what you have to say,
I will with Patience bear, and find a Time
Both fit to hear, and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble Friend, remember this;
Brutus had rather be a Villager,
A worthless Stranger, than a Son of Rome,
Under such hard Conditions as this Time
Is like to lay upon us.

Cassius.
I am happy,
That my weak Words have drawn thus much from Brutus.

Brutus.
A sudden Storm! I'll leave you, noble Cassius; [Excessive Thunder and Lightning on a sudden.

We are observ'd. At Midnight, if you please,
We'll meet again, and talk of this more largely.

Cassius.
I will not fail to wait on worthy Brutus.

[Exit Brutus.

SCENE V.

Enter Casca to Cassius.
Cassius.
Who's there?

Casca.
A Roman.

Cassius.
Casca, by your Voice.

Casca.
Your Ear is good. The Air is strangely chang'd!

Cassius.
A very harmless Air to honest Men.

Casca.
Who ever knew the Heavens threaten so?

Cassius.
Who ever knew the Earth so full of Faults?
For my part, I'll walk still about the Streets,
Submitting to the Dangers of the Storm;
Unbutton'd thus, and careless, as you see,
Will bare my Bosom to the Thunderbolt,
Just as the fiery Flash begins to dart.

Casca.
But wherefore would you so much tempt the Gods?
Sure, 'tis our Part rather to fear and tremble,
When they, for Causes to poor Men unknown,
Send dreadful Heralds to denounce a War.

Cassius.
You are dull, Casca; and those Sparks of Fire,
That should inflame a Roman Breast, you want,
Or else dissemble: You look pale, and gaze,
And put on Fear, and lose yourself in Wonder,
To see this strange Disorder in the Heav'ns:
Think on the Earth, good Casca; think on Rome;
If fiery Meteors, and Fool-frighting Ghosts,
If monstrous Births, and strange portentous things,
As you believe, break Nature's settled Course;
'Tis to accompany this monstrous State.
I could now, Casca, name to thee a Man
Most like this dreadful Night, which thunders, lightens,
Tears open Graves, and keeps us all in Terror:
A Man no mightier than thyself, or me,
In real Might, in Worth; yet grown a Giant;
And ev'ry Roman else seems but a Pigmy.

Casca.
It is not hard to guess the Man you mean.

Cassius.
No matter for his Name; for Romans now
Have Limbs and Sinews, like their Ancestors;
But where the Minds of all our famous Fathers?
Dead, dead with them! we have our Mothers Spirits;
'Tis womanish to see, and suffer this.

Casca.
Indeed, they say, the Senators To-morrow
Mean to establish Cæsar for their King;
And he shall wear his Crown by Sea and Land,
In ev'ry Place, but here in Italy.

Cassius.
I know where I shall wear this Dagger then.
Cassius from Bondage will deliver Cassius.
Herein the Poor are rich, the Weak most strong;
By this, the Wretched mock at base Oppression;
The Meanest are victorious o'er the Mighty.
Not Tow'rs of Stone, nor Walls of harden'd Brass,
Nor airless Dungeons, the poor Strength of Tyrants!
Not all their strongest Guards, nor heaviest Chains,
Can in the least controul the mighty Spirit.
For, noble Life, when weary of itself,
Has always Pow'r to shake it off, at Pleasure.
Since I know this, know all the World besides,
That Part of Tyranny prepar'd for me,
I can and will defy.

Casca.
And so can I.
Thus ev'ry Bondman in own Hand bears
The Pow'r to cancel his Captivity.

Cassius.
And why should Cæsar be a Tyrant then?
Poor Man! I know he would not be a Wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but Sheep:
He were no Lion, if we were not Lambs.
But oh, disorder'd Grief! where hast thou led me!
I speak, perhaps, before a willing Bondman,
One whom tame Fools miscal a mod'rate Man;
That is, a mean Complyer with the Times.
But I am arm'd within against all Danger.

Casca.
Cassius, you speak to Casca, to a Man
Whose Thoughts have all this while out-gone your Words;
Here, take my Hand, and make what use of it
The Times and our Necessities require;
I am resolv'd.

Cassius.
Then, there's a Bargain made.
Now know, good Casca, I have mov'd already
Some of the boldest noblest-minded Romans
To undertake with me an Enterprize
Of honourable, dang'rous Consequence.
They now all stay for me in Pompey's Porch,
And such a Night as this requires a Shelter;
A Night, that's like the noble Work in hand,
All black, and terrible! But soft; stand close.

Enter Trebonius.
Casca.
Trebonius! now I know him by his Gait.

Cassius.
He is a Friend; pray hold; whither so fast?

Trebonius.
To look out you. Who's that, Metellus Cimber?

Cassius.
No, 'tis our Casca, one as bold and honest.
Am I not stay'd for?

Trebonius.
What a Night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange Sights!

Cassius.
Well, let 'em see them. Tell me, am I staid for?

Trebonius.
You are.
O Cassius, if you could prevail with Brutus;
He, as a Band, would tye our Party strong.

Casca.
Why, is not Brutus one? I thought him sure.

Cassius.
Be you content. Trebonius, take this Scroll,
And look you lay it in the ready way,
Where Brutus needs must find it; then, throw this
In at his Window; set this up with Wax
Upon old Brutus' Statue: all this done,
Repair to Pompey's Porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus, and Marullus there?

Trebonius.
All, all are there, except Metellus Cimber;
And he is gone to seek you at your House.

Cassius.
Away then; lose no Time: Come, my good Casca,
We will go visit Brutus yet ere Day:
Three Parts of that good Man are ours already,
And, on the next Assault, he yields entire.

Casca.
Oh, he sits high in all the People's Hearts.

Cassius.
So, that which would appear Offence in us,
His Countenance, like the great Art of Chymists,
Will change to Virtue, and to noble Deeds.

Casca.
Him, and his Worth, and our great Need of him,
You have consider'd well. Come, let's make Haste.

Cassius.
The Sun that sees him next, shall find him ours.

[Exeunt.
Instead of the Musick usually play'd between the Acts, the following Verses are, after this Act, to be sung by a Chorus representing the Roman People.