Enter Trebonius..

Caf. Where is Antony?

Tre. Fled to his houfe amaz'd.

Men, wives, and children, ftare, cry out, and run,
As it were Dooms-day.

Bru. Fatés! we will know your pleasures

That we fhall die, we know; 'tis but the time,
And drawing days out, that men ftand upon.

Caf. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life,
Cuts off fo many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Cafar's friends, that have abridg'd His time of fearing death, (11) Stoop, Romans, stoop; And let us bathe our hands in Cafar's blood Up to the elbows, and befmear our fwords; Then walk we forth ev'n to the Market-place, And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry," peace! freedom! and liberty!" Caf. Stoop then, and wash-how many ages hence [Dipping their fwords in Cæfar's blood.

(11) Scop, Romans, foop,] Mr. Pepe, in both his Editions, has, from thefe Words, arbitrarily taken away the Remainder of this Speech from Brutus, and placed it to Cafea because, he thinks, nothing is more inconfiftent with Brutus's mild and philofophical Character. And as he often finds Speeches in the later Editions, he fays, put into wrong Meuths; he thinks, this Liberty is not unreasonable. 'Tis true, a diligent Editor may find many fuch Errors committed even in the first printed Copies: but it has not often been Mr. Pope's good Fortune to hit upon them. I dare warrant, the Printers made no Blunder in this Inftance; and therefore I have made bold to restore the Speech to its right Owner. Brutus efteem'd

the Death of Ca ar a Sacrifice to Liberty and, as fuch, gloried in his heading the Enterprife. Befides, our Poet is ftrictly copying a Fact in Hiftory. Plutarch, in the Life of Cafar, fays, "Brutus and "his Followers, being yet bot with the Murder, march'd in a Body "from the Senate-houfe to the Capitol, with their drawn Swords, "with an Air of Confidence and Affurance." And, in the Life of Brutus, "Brutus and his Party betook themfelves to the "Capitol, and in their way bewing their Hands all bloody, and their "naked Swords, proclaim'd Liberty to the People."

Shall

Shall this our lofty scene be acted o'er,
In ftates unborn, and accents yet unknown?

Bru. How many times fhall Cæfar bleed in sport
That now on Pompey's bafis lies along,

No worthier than the duft?

Caf. So oft as that shall be,

So often fhall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.
Dec. What, hall we forth?

Caf. Ay, every man away.

Brutus fhall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldeft, and beft hearts of Rome.

A

Enter a Servant.

Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my mafter bid me kneel; Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; [Kneeling. And, being proftrate, thus he bade me fay, Brutus is noble, wife, valiant and honeft; Cæfar was mighty, royal, bold and loving; Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I fear'd Cæfar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony

May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cafar hath deferv'd to lie in death:
Mark Antony fhall not love Cafar dead,
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod State,
With all true faith. So fays my mafter Antony.
Bru. Thy mafter is a wife and valiant Roman;
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, fo please him come unto this place,
He shall be fatisfied; and by my honour,
Depart untouch'd.

Serv. I'll fetch him prefently.

[Exit Servant.

Bru. I know, that we fhall have him well to friend.
Caf. I wish, we may but yet have I a mind,

That fears him much; and my misgiving still
Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

Enter

Enter Antony.

Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. Ant. O mighty Cafar! doft thou lie fo low? Are all thy conquefts, glories, triumphs, fpoils, Shrunk to this little measure ?.

fare thee well.

I know not, Gentlemen, what you intend,

Who elfe must be let blood, who elfe is rank;
If I myself, there is no hour fo fit

As Cafar's death's hour; nor no inftrument

Of half that worth as thofe your fwords, made rich
With the moft noble blood of all this world.

I do befeech ye, if ye bear me hard,

Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfil your pleafure. Live a thousand years,

I fhall not find myself fo apt to die :

No place will please me fo, no mean of death,
As here by Cafar, and by you cut off,
The choice and mafter fpirits of this

age.
Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us :
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands, and this our prefent act,
You fee, we do; yet fee you but our hands,
And this the bleeding bufinefs they have done :
Our hearts you fee not, they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome
(As fire drives out fire, fo pity, pity ;)
Hath done this deed on Cæfar: For your part,
To you our fwords have leaden points, Mark Antony ;
Our arms exempt from malice; and our hearts,
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Caf. Your voice fhall be as ftrong as any man's

In the difpofing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient, 'till we have appeas'd
The multitude, befide themfelves with fear;
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cafar when I ftrook him,
Proceeded thus.

Ant.

Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand;
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Caffius, do I take your hand;

Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus ;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Cafca, yours;
Tho' laft, not leaft in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all-alas, what shall I say?

My credit now ftands on fuch flippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.

That I did love thee, Cafar, oh, 'tis true;
If then thy fpirit look upon us now,

Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To fee thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most noble! in the prefence of thy corfe?
Had I as many eyes, as thou haft wounds,
Weeping as fast as they ftream forth thy blood,
It would become me better, than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius-here waft thou bay'd, brave hart;
Here didft thou fall, and here thy hunters ftand
Sign'd in thy spoil, (12) and crimfon'd in thy death.
O world! thou waft the foreft to this hart,

And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
How like a deer, ftricken, by many Princes,
Doft thou here lie?

Caf. Mark Antony

(12) And crimson'd in thy Death.] All the old Copies, that I have feen, read, Lethe. The Dictionaries, indeed, acknowledge no fuch Word: and as the L might have mistakingly been form'd from an obfcure D, not taking the Ink equally in all Parts, I have fuffer'd the more known Word to ftand in the Text; tho', indeed, I am not without Sufpicion of our Poet's having either coin'd the other Term, or copied it from fome obfolete Author, who had adopted it from the Lethum of the Latines; which, 'tis well known, was used for Death, as well as Deftruction, Ruin, Havock, &c.

Ant.

Ant. Pardon me, Caius Caffius:
The enemies of Cafar fhall fay this:
Then, in a friend, it is cold modefty.

Caf. I blame you not for praifing Cæfar fo,
But what compact mean you to have with us?
Will you be prick'd in number of our friends,
Or fhall we on, and not depend on you?

Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was, indeed, Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cafar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all; Upon this hope, that you fhall give me reasons, Why, and wherein Cafar was dangerous. Bru. Or elfe this were a favage fpectacle. Our reasons are fo full of good regard, That were you, Antony, the fon of Cæfar, You fhould be fatisfied.

Ant. That's all I seek;

And am moreover fuitor, that I may
Produce his body to the market-place,
And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,
Speak in the order of his funeral.
Bru. You fhall, Mark Antony

Caf. Brutus, a word with you.

You know not what you do; do not confent, [Afide.

That Antony speak in his funeral :

Know you, how much the people may be mov'd
By that which he will utter ?

Bru. By your pardon,

I will myself into the pulpit first,

And fhew the reason of our Cafar's death.
What Antony fhall fpeak, I will protest
He fpeaks by leaye, and by permission;
And that we are contented, Cæfar fhall
Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies :
It fhall advantage more, than do us wrong.

Caf. I know not what may fall, I like it not.
Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Cafar's body:
You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,
But fpeak all good you can devife of Cæfar;
And fay, you do't by our permiffion :

Ele