Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
Why birds, and beasts, from quality and kind;
Why old men fool, and children calculate;
Why all these things change from their ordinance,
Their natures and preformed faculties,
To monstrous quality; why, you shall find,
That Heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits
To make them instruments of fear and warning
Unto some monstrous state.

Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
Most like this dreadful night;

That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
As doth the lion in the Capitol :

A man no mightier than thyself, or me,

In personal action; yet prodigious grown,

And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

Casca. Tis Cæsar that you mean; is it not, Cassius ?

Cas. Let it be who it is: for Romans now Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors; But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; Our yoke and sufferance shew us womanish.

Casca. Indeed, they say, the Senators to-morrow

Mean to establish Cæsar as a king:

And he shall wear his crown by sea, and land,

In every place, save here in Italy.

Cas. I know where I will wear this dagger, then ;

64 from, contrary to. Cf. 1. 35. (R)

65 fool, act like fools. Folio, fooles; and some editors, "old men, fools, and children calculate." calculate, prognosticate. (R)

70

80

Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius :
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat.
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny that I do bear

I can shake off at pleasure.

Casca.

90

[Thunder still.

So every bondman in his own hand bears

The power to cancel his captivity.

Cas. 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, were not Romans hinds.

Those that with haste will make a mighty fire,
Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Cæsar?
Where hast thou led me?

But, O grief!

I, perhaps, speak this

Before a willing bondman: then I know

My answer must be made; but I am arm'd,

And dangers are to me indifferent.

Casca. You speak to Casca; and to such a man

That is no fleering tell-tale.

106 hinds, a quibble on the two meanings, "deer" and "menials." (R)

108 trash, twigs, rubbish, &c., which burn easily. (R)

Hold, my hand:

110

100 offal, literally, "clippingsoff," shavings. (R)

114 My answer must be made, I must be called to account. (R) 117 fleering, grinning. (R)

Be factious for redress of all these griefs,
And I will set this foot of mine as far,
As who goes farthest.

Cas.

There's a bargain made.

120

Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans,
To undergo with me an enterprise

Of honourable-dangerous consequence;
And I do know, by this, they stay for me

In Pompey's porch for now, this fearful night,
There is no stir or walking in the streets;
And the complexion of the element

In favour 's like the work we have in hand,
Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

Enter CINNA.

Casca. Stand close a while, for here comes one in haste.

Cas. Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait :

He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so?

Cinna. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

Cas. No, it is Casca; one incorporate

To our attempt. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

Cin. I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!

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

Cas. Am I not stay'd for?

118 Be factious, i. e. form a faction or active party. (R)

128 Pompey's porch. One of the porches of Pompey's theatre, where was his bust. It was a favourite gathering-place, and the actual place of Cæsar's assassination,

Tell me.

130

which Shakespeare transports, with Pompey's statue, to the Capitol (III. ii. 192). (R)

(w)

128 element, sky. (R)

129 In. The folio misprints Is.

131 close, concealed. (R)

Cin.

Yes, you are.

140

O, Cassius! if you could but win the noble Brutus
To our party

Cas. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the prætor's chair,

Where Brutus may but find it; and 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 Trebonius, there?

Cin. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

[Exit CINNA.

Come, Casca, you and I will, yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
Is ours already; and the man entire,

Upon the next encounter, yields him ours.

Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts; And that which would appear offence in us,

His countenance, like richest alchemy,

Will change to virtue, and to worthiness.

Cas. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him,

You have right well conceited. Let us go,
For it is after midnight; and ere day
We will awake him, and be sure of him.

140 From the very defective rhythm of this line, I suspect that it is corrupt. [Some texts end the line with could, the remaining words filling out 1. 141.]

144 but, alone. (R)

[Exeunt.

150

160

ACT Two.

SCENE I. The Same. BRUTUS's Orchard.

Enter BRUTUS.

BRUTUS. What, Lucius! ho!

I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day. - Lucius, I say!
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say: what, Lucius!

Enter LUCIUS.

Lucius. Call'd you, my lord?

Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:

When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc. I will, my lord.

[Exit.

10

Bru. It must be by his death; and, for my part,

I know no personal cause to spurn at him,

But for the general. He would be crown'd:

How that might change his nature, there's the ques

tion.

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder,

And that craves wary walking. Crown him? — that;
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins

Remorse from power; and, to speak truth of Cæsar,