University of Virginia Library

SCENA 6.

Enter Cæsar, Calphurnia.
Cæs.
Why thinkes my loue to fright me with her dreames?
Shall bug-beares feare Cæsars vndaunted heart,
Whome Pompeys Fortune neuer could amaze,
Nor the French horse, nor Mauritanian boe,
And now shall vaine illusions mee affright:
Or shadowes daunt, whom substance could not quell?

Calphur.
O dearest Cæsar, hast thou seene thy selfe,
(As troubled dreames to me did faine thee seene:)
Torne, Wounded, Maymed, Blod-slaughtered, Slaine,
O thou thy selfe, wouldst then haue dread thy selfe:
And feard to thrust thy life to dangers mouth.

Cæs.
There you bewray the folly of your dreame,
For I am well, aliue, vncaught, vntoucht.

Calphur.
T'was in the Senate-house I sawe thee so,
And yet thou dreadles thither needes will go.

Cæs.
The Senate is a place of peace, not death,
But these were but deluding visions.

Calphur.
O do not set so little by the heauens,
Dreames ar diuine, men say they come from Ioue,
Beware betimes, and bee not wise to late:
Mens good indeuours change the wills of Fate.

Cæs.
Weepe not faire loue, let not thy wofull teares
Bode mee, I knowe what thou wouldest not haue to hap
It will distaine mine honor wonne in fight
To say a womans dreame could me affright.

Cal.
O Cæsar no dishonour canst thou get,
In seeking to preuent vnlucky chance:
Foole-hardy men do runne vpon their death,
Bee thou in this perswaded by thy wife:
No vallour bids thee cast away thy life.

Cæs.
Tis dastard cowardize and childish feare,
To dread those dangers that do not appeare:

Cal.
Thou must sad chance by fore-cast, wise resist,
Or being done say boote-les had I wist.

Cæs.
But for to feare wher's no suspition,
Will to my greatnesse be derision.

Cal.
There lurkes an adder in the greenest grasse,
Daungers of purpose alwayes hide their face:

Cæs.
Perswade no more Cæsar's resolu'd to go.

Cal.
The Heauens resolue that hee may safe returne,
For if ought happen to my loue but well:
His danger shalbe doubled with my death.

Exit.
Enter Augur.
Augur.
I, come they are, but yet they are not gon.

Cæs.
What hast thou sacrifiz'd, as custome is,
Before wee enter in the Senat-house.

Augur.
O stay those steeps that leade thee to thy death,
The angry heauens with threeatning dire aspect,
Boding mischance, and balfull massacers,
Menace the ouerthrowe of Cæsars powre:
Saturne sits frowning on the God of Warre,
VVho in their sad coniunction do conspire,
Vniting both their bale full influences,
To heape mischance, and danger to thy life:
The Sacrificing beast is heart-les found:
Sad ghastly sightes, and raysed Ghostes appeare,
Which fill the silent woods, with groning cries:
The hoarse Night-rauen tunes the chearles voyce,
And calls the bale-full Owle, and howling Doge,
To make a consort. In whose sad song is this,
Neere is the ouerthrow of Cæsars blisse.

Exit.
Cæsar.
The world is set to fray mee from my wits,
Heers harteles Sacrifice and visions,
Howlinge and cryes, and gastly grones of Ghosts,
Soft Cæsar do not make a mockery,
Of these Prodigious signes sent from the Heauens,
Calphurnias Dreame Iumping which Augurs words,
Shew (if thou markest it Cæsar) cause to feare:
This day the Senate there shalbe dissolued,
And Ile returne to my Calphurnia home,
One giues him a paper.
What hast thou heare that thou presents vs with,

Pre.
A thing my Lord that doth concerne your life.
Which loue to you and hate of such a deed,
Makes me reueale vnto your excellence.
Cæsar laughs.
Smilest thou, or think'st thou it some ilde toy,
Thout frowne a non to read so many names.
That haue conspird and sworne thy bloody death,

Exit.
Enter Cassius.
Cassius.
Now must I come, and with close subtile girdes,
Deceaue the prey that Ile deuoure anon,
My Lord the Sacred Senate doth expect,
Your royall presence in Pompeius court:

Cæsar.
Cassius they tell me that some daungers nigh.
And death pretended in the Senate house.

Cassi.
What danger or what wrong can be,
Where harmeles grauitie and vertue sits,
Tis past all daunger present death it is,
Nor is it wrong to render due desert.
To feare the Senators without a cause,
Will bee a cause why theile be to be feared,

Cæsa.
The Senate stayes for me in Pompeys court.
And Cæsars heere, and dares not goe to them,
Packe hence all dread of danger and of death,
What must be must be; Cæsars prest for all,

Cassi.
Now haue I sent him headlong to his ende,
Vengance and death awayting at his heeles,
Cæsar thy life now hangeth on a twine,
Which by my Poniard must bee cut in twaine,
Thy chaire of state now turn'd is to thy Beere,
Thy Princely robes to make thy winding sheete:
The Senators the Mourners ore the Hearse,
And Pompeys Court, thy dreadfull graue shalbe.

Senators crie all at once.
Omnes.
Hold downe the Tyrant stab him to the death.

Casi.
Now doth the musick play and this the song
That Cassius heart hath thirsted for so long:
And now my Poniard in this mazing sound,
Must strike that touch that must his life confound.
Stab on, stab on, thus should your Poniards play,
Aloud deepe note vpon this trembling Kay.

stab him.
Buco.
Bucolian sends thee this.

stab him.
Cum.
And Cumber this.

stab him.
Cas.
Take this frō Casca for to quite Romes wronges.

Cæs.
Why murtherous villaines know you whō you strike,
Tis Cæsar, Cæsar, whom your Poniards pierce:
Cæsar whose name might well afright such slaues:
O Heauens that see and hate this haynous guilt,
And thou Immortall Ioue that Idle holdest
Deluding Thunder in thy faynting hand,
Why stay'st thy dreadfull doome, and dost with-hold,
Thy three-fork'd engine to reuenge my death:
But if my plaintes the Heauens cannot mooue,
Then blackest hell and Pluto bee thou iudge:
You greesly daughters of the cheereles night,
Whose hearts, nor praier nor pitty, ere could lend,
Leaue the black dungeon of your Chaos deepe:
Come and with flaming brandes into the world,
Reuenge, and death, bringe seated in your eyes:
And plauge these villaynes for their trecheries.

Enter Brutus.
Bru.
I haue held Anthony with a vaine discourse,
The whilst the deed's in execution,
But liues hee still, yet doth the Tyrant breath?
Chalinging Heauens with his blasphemies,
Heere Brutus maketh a passage for thy Soule,
To plead thy cause for them whose ayde thou crauest,

Cæs.
What Brutus to? nay nay, then let me die,
Nothing wounds deeper then ingratitude,

Bru.
I bloody Cæsar, Cæsar, Brutus too,
Doth geeue thee this, and this to quite Romes wrongs,

Cassius.
O had the Tyrant had as many liues,
As that fell Hydra borne in Lerna lake,
That heare I still might stab and stabing kill,
Till that more liues might bee extinquished,
Then his ambition, Romanes Slaughtered.

Tre.
How heauens haue iustly on the authors head,
Returnd the guiltles blood which he hath shed,
And Pompey, he who caused thy Tragedy,
Here breathles lies before thy Noble Statue,

Enter Anthony.
Anth.
What cryes of death resound within my eares,
Whome I doe see great Cæsar buchered thus?
What said I great? I Cæsar thou wast great.
But O that greatnes was that brought thy death:
O vniust Heauens, (if Heauens at all there be,)
Since vertues wronges makes question of your powers,
How could your starry eyes this shame behold,
How could the sunne see this and not eclipze?
Fayre bud of fame ill cropt before thy time:
What Hyrcan tygar, or wild sauage bore,
(For he more heard then Bore or Tyger was,)
Durst do so vile and execrate a deede,
Could not those eyes so full of maiesty,
Nor priesthood (o not thus to bee prophand)
Nor yet the reuerence to this sacred place,
Nor flowing eloquence of thy goulden tounge,
Nor name made famous through immortall merit,
Deter those murtherors from so vild a deed?
Sweete friend accept these obsequies of mine,
Which heare with teares I doe vnto thy hearse,
And thou being placed among the shining starrs.
Shalt downe from Heauen behold what deepe reueng,
I will inflict vpon the murtherers,

Exit with Cæsar, in his armes.