The live-long day with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds,

:

Made in his concave shores ?

And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone-

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the Gods, to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen; and for that

fault
Assemble all the poor men of your fort,
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

[Exeunt Commoners.

See, whe're their basest metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way tow'rds the Capitol,
This way will I. Disrobe the images,
If you do find them 3 deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May we do so?
You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter. Let no images
Be hung with Cafar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets?

3-deck'd with ceremonies.] Ce- by Cæfar's trophies; i. e. fuck

remonies, for religious ornaments. as he had dedicated to the Gods.

Thus afterwards he explains them

WARBURTON.

1

So do you too, where your perceive them thick.
These growing feathers, pluckt from Cefar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who else would foar above the view of men,ر

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

[Exeunt feverally.

Enter Cæfar, Antony. For the Course, Calphurnia,

Porcia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Casca, a

Soothfajer.

Caf. Calphurnia

Cafca, Peace, ho! Cafar speaks.

Cef. Calpburnia

Calp. Here, my Lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his Course

Ant. Cefar. My Lord.

Antonius

Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia; for our Elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their steril curse.

Ant. I shall remember.

When Cafar says, do this; it is perform'd.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
South. Cafar,

Caf. Ha! who calls?

Cafca. Bid every noise be still. Peace! Yet again.
Caf. Who is it in the Press, that calls on me?

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick,
Cry, Cæfar. Speak; Cafar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. What man is that?

Bru. A footh-fayer bids you beware the Ides of

March.

Caf

Caf. Set him before me; let me fee his face.
Cafca. Fellow, come from the throng. Look upon

Caf. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once

Cafar.

again.

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass.

[+ Sennet. Exeunt Cæfar and Train.

SCENE III.

Manent Brutus and Caffius.

Caf. Will you go see the order of the Course?
Bru. Not I.

Caf. I pray you, do.

:

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part

Of that quick fpirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;

I'll leave you.

Caf. Brutus, I do observe you now of lates

I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And shew of love, as I was wont to have.
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with paffions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

4 I have here inferted the word Sennet, from the original edition, that I may have an opportunity of retracting a hasty conjecture in one of the marginal directions in Henry VIII. Sennet appears to be a particular tune or mode

of martial musick.

*

5-strange a hand] Strange isalien, unfamiliar, such as might become a stranger.

6-passions of some difference,) With a fluctuation of difcordant opinions and defires.

Which give some foil, perhaps, to my behaviours;
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one,
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shews of love to other men.

1

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you fee your face? Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not itself, But by reflexion from some other things.

Cas. 'Tis just;

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might fee your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Cefar, speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me feek into myself,
For that which is not in me ?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;
And fince you know, you cannot fee yourself
So well as by reflexion; I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laugher, or did use
'To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protestor; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,

• To stale with ordinary oa'hs my love, &c.] To invite every new protestor to my affec

tion by the ftale or allurement of customary oaths.

And

And after scandal them; or if you know,
That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout; then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish and shout.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the

People

Chufe Cafar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think, you would not have it fo.
Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it, that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set Honour in one eye, and Death i'th other,
* And I will look on both indifferently,
For, let the Gods so speed me, as I love
The name of Honour, more than I fear Death.

Caf. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
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,

8 And I will look on both indifferently;] This is a contradiction to the lines immediately succeeding. If he lov'd honour more than he fear'd death, how could they be both indifferent to him? Honour thus is but in equal balance to death, which is not speaking at all like Brutus: for, in a foldier of any ordinary pretenfions, honour should always preponderate. We must certainly read,

And I will look on death indifferently.

What occafion'd the corruption, I presume, was, the transcribers imagining, the adverb indifferent ly must be applied to two things

oppos'd. But the use of the word does not demand it; nor does Shakespeare always apply it so. In the present passage it signifies xeglectingly; without fear, or con cern: And fo Cafca afterwards again in this act, employs it.

And dangers are to me indifferent.

I weigh them not; nor am deterr'd on the score of danger.

WARBURTON.

This long note is very trifing. When Brutus first names honour and death, he calmly declares them indifferent; but as the image kindles in his mind, he fets honour above life. Is not this natural?