By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 6 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, By any indirection. I did fend To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you deny'd me: was that done like Caffius? To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends, Caf. I deny'd you not. Caf. I did not he was but a fool, That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath riv'd my heart. A friend fhould bear a friend's infirmities, 6 -than to wring From the hard bands of peajants their wile trash.] This is a noble fentiment, altogether in character, and expreffed in a manner inimitably happy. For to wring, implies both to get unjustly, and to ufe force in getting: and hard hands fignify both the peafant's great labour and pains in acquiring, and his great unwillingness to quit his hold. WARBURTON. ? Bru. I do not, TILL you praise them on me.] But was this talking like Brutus? Caffius complained that his friend made his infirmities greater than they were. To which Brutus replies, not till thofe infirmities were injuriously turned upon me. But was this any excufe for aggravating his friend's failings? Shakefpeare knew better what was fit for his hero to fay, and certainly wrote and pointed the line thus, I do not. STILL you practise them on me. i. e. I deny your charge, and this is a fresh injury done me. WARBURTON. The meaning is this; I do not look for your faults, I only fee them, and mention them with vehemence, when you force them into my notice, by practising them on me. JOHNSON. Bru. Bru. I do not like your faults. Caf. A friendly eye could never fee fuch faults. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come; Revenge yourselves alone on Caffius, For Caffius is a-weary of the world: Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; 8 If that thou BE'ST A ROMAN, take it forth, &c.] But why is he bid to rip out his heart, if he were a Roman? There is no other fenfe but this, If you have the courage of a Roman. But this is fo poor, and fo little to the purpose, that the reading may be juftly fufpected. The occafion of this quarrel was Caffius's refufal to fupply the neceffities of his friend, who charges it on him as a difhonour and crime, with great afperity of language. Caffius, to fhew him the injuftice of accufing him of avarice, tells him, he was ready to expofe his life in his fervice; but at the fame time, provoked and exafperated at the other's reproaches, he upbraids him with the feverity of his temper, that would pardon nothing, but always aimed at the life of the offender; and delighted in his blood, though a Roman, and attached to him by the ftrongest bonds of alliance: hereby obliquely infinuating the cafe of Cæfar. The fenfe being thus explained, it is evident we should read, If that thou NEEDST A ROMAN'S, take it forth. i.e. if nothing but another Roman's death can fatisfy the unrelenting severity of your temper, take my life as you did Cæfar's. WARBURTON. I am not fatisfied with the change propofed, yet cannot deny, that the words, as they now ftand, require fome interpretation. I think he means only, that he is fo far from Avarice, when the caufe of his country requires liberality, that if any man should wifh for his heart, he would not need enforce his defire any otherwife, than by fhewing that he was a Roman, JOHNSON I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart: When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dft him better Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius. Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Caf. O Brutus ! Bru. What's the matter? Caf. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rafh humour, which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful? Bru. Yes, Caffius; and from henceforth When you are over-earneft with your Brutus, Luc. within. You fhall not come to them. Enter Poet. Caf. How now? What's the matter? Poet. For fhame, you generals; what do you mean? 'Love, and be friends, as two fuch men should be; Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time: What should the wars do with these jingling fools? Companion, hence. Caf. Away, away, begone. Enter Lucilius and Titinius. [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Meffala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Caf. I did not think, you could have been fo angry. Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs. Caf. Of your philofophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears forrow better:-Portia's dead. Caf. Ha! Portia !—— Bru. She is dead. Caf. How 'fcap'd I killing, when I croft you fo?O infupportable and touching lofs!— Upon what fickness? Love, and be friends, as two fuch men should be ; This paffage is a tranflation from the following one in the first book of Homer, ̓Αλλὰ πίθεσθ ̓ ἄμφω δὲ νεωτέρω ἐςὶν εμεῖο, which is thus given in fir Thomas North's Plutarch, G 3 STEEVENS. Bru. Bru. Impatient of my abfence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Bru. Even fo. Caf. O ye immortal Gods! Re-enter Lucius with wine and tapers. Bru. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius. [Drinks. Caf. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge :Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-fwell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. Bru. Come in, Titinius:--Welcome, good Meffala. Enter Titinius, and Meffala. Now fit we clofe about this taper here, And, her attendants abfint, fwallow'd fire.] This circumflance is taken from Plutarch.. It may not, however, be amifs to remark, that the death of Portia wants that foundation which has hitherto entitled her to a place in poetry, as a pattern of Roman fortitude. She is reported, by Pliny I think, to have died at Rome of a lingering illness while Brutus was abroad; but fome writers feem to look on a natural death as a derogation from a diftinguished character. STEEVENS. Mef. . |