Shakespeare's First Folio Part 538

Ca.s.s. This, Caska; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cymber

Brut. They are all welcome.

What watchfull Cares doe interpose themselues Betwixt your Eyes, and Night?

Ca.s.s. Shall I entreat a word?

They whisper.

Decius. Here lyes the East: doth not the Day breake heere?

Cask. No

Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey Lines, That fret the Clouds, are Messengers of Day

Cask. You shall confesse, that you are both deceiu'd: Heere, as I point my Sword, the Sunne arises, Which is a great way growing on the South, Weighing the youthfull Season of the yeare.

Some two moneths hence, vp higher toward the North He first presents his fire, and the high East Stands as the Capitoll, directly heere

Bru. Giue me your hands all ouer, one by one

Cas. And let vs sweare our Resolution

Brut. No, not an Oath: if not the Face of men, The sufferance of our Soules, the times Abuse; If these be Motiues weake, breake off betimes, And euery man hence, to his idle bed: So let high-sighted-Tyranny range on, Till each man drop by Lottery. But if these (As I am sure they do) beare fire enough To kindle Cowards, and to steele with valour The melting Spirits of women. Then Countrymen, What neede we any spurre, but our owne cause To p.r.i.c.ke vs to redresse? What other Bond, Then secret Romans, that haue spoke the word, And will not palter? And what other Oath, Then Honesty to Honesty ingag'd, That this shall be, or we will fall for it.

Sweare Priests and Cowards, and men Cautelous Old feeble Carrions, and such suffering Soules That welcome wrongs: Vnto bad causes, sweare Such Creatures as men doubt; but do not staine The euen vertue of our Enterprize, Nor th' insuppressiue Mettle of our Spirits, To thinke, that or our Cause, or our Performance Did neede an Oath. When euery drop of blood That euery Roman beares, and n.o.bly beares Is guilty of a seuerall b.a.s.t.a.r.die, If he do breake the smallest Particle Of any promise that hath past from him

Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?

I thinke he will stand very strong with vs

Cask. Let vs not leaue him out

Cyn. No, by no meanes

Metel. O let vs haue him, for his Siluer haires Will purchase vs a good opinion: And buy mens voyces, to commend our deeds: It shall be sayd, his iudgement rul'd our hands, Our youths, and wildenesse, shall no whit appeare, But all be buried in his Grauity

Bru. O name him not; let vs not breake with him, For he will neuer follow any thing That other men begin

Cas. Then leaue him out

Cask. Indeed, he is not fit

Decius. Shall no man else be toucht, but onely Caesar?

Cas. Decius well vrg'd: I thinke it is not meet, Marke Antony, so well belou'd of Caesar, Should out-liue Caesar, we shall finde of him A shrew'd Contriuer. And you know, his meanes If he improue them, may well stretch so farre As to annoy vs all: which to preuent, Let Antony and Caesar fall together

Bru. Our course will seeme too b.l.o.o.d.y, Caius Ca.s.sius, To cut the Head off, and then hacke the Limbes: Like Wrath in death, and Enuy afterwards: For Antony, is but a Limbe of Caesar.

Let's be Sacrificers, but not Butchers Caius: We all stand vp against the spirit of Caesar, And in the Spirit of men, there is no blood: O that we then could come by Caesars Spirit, And not dismember Caesar! But (alas) Caesar must bleed for it. And gentle Friends, Let's kill him Boldly, but not Wrathfully: Let's carue him, as a Dish fit for the G.o.ds, Not hew him as a Carka.s.se fit for Hounds: And let our Hearts, as subtle Masters do, Stirre vp their Seruants to an acte of Rage, And after seeme to chide 'em. This shall make Our purpose Necessary, and not Enuious.

Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.

And for Marke Antony, thinke not of him: For he can do no more then Caesars Arme, When Caesars head is off

Cas. Yet I feare him, For in the ingrafted loue he beares to Caesar

Bru. Alas, good Ca.s.sius, do not thinke of him: If he loue Caesar, all that he can do Is to himselfe; take thought, and dye for Caesar, And that were much he should: for he is giuen To sports, to wildenesse, and much company

Treb. There is no feare in him; let him not dye, For he will liue, and laugh at this heereafter.

Clocke strikes.

Bru. Peace, count the Clocke

Cas. The Clocke hath stricken three

Treb. 'Tis time to part

Ca.s.s. But it is doubtfull yet, Whether Caesar will come forth to day, or no: For he is Superst.i.tious growne of late, Quite from the maine Opinion he held once, Of Fantasie, of Dreames, and Ceremonies: It may be, these apparant Prodigies, The vnaccustom'd Terror of this night, And the perswasion of his Augurers, May hold him from the Capitoll to day

Decius. Neuer feare that: If he be so resolu'd, I can ore-sway him: For he loues to heare, That Vnicornes may be betray'd with Trees, And Beares with Gla.s.ses, Elephants with Holes, Lyons with Toyles, and men with Flatterers.

But, when I tell him, he hates Flatterers, He sayes, he does; being then most flattered.

Let me worke: For I can giue his humour the true bent; And I will bring him to the Capitoll

Cas. Nay, we will all of vs, be there to fetch him

Bru. By the eight houre, is that the vttermost?

Cin. Be that the vttermost, and faile not then

Met. Caius Ligarius doth beare Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey; I wonder none of you haue thought of him

Bru. Now good Metellus go along by him: He loues me well, and I haue giuen him Reasons, Send him but hither, and Ile fas.h.i.+on him

Cas. The morning comes vpon's: Wee'l leaue you Brutus, And Friends disperse your selues; but all remember What you haue said, and shew your selues true Romans

Bru. Good Gentlemen, looke fresh and merrily, Let not our lookes put on our purposes, But beare it as our Roman Actors do, With vntyr'd Spirits, and formall Constancie, And so good morrow to you euery one.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus.

Boy: Lucius: Fast asleepe? It is no matter, Enioy the hony-heauy-Dew of Slumber: Thou hast no Figures, nor no Fantasies, Which busie care drawes, in the braines of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Enter Portia.

Por. Brutus, my Lord

Bru. Portia: What meane you? wherfore rise you now?

It is not for your health, thus to commit Your weake condition, to the raw cold morning

Por. Nor for yours neither. Y'haue vngently Brutus Stole from my bed: and yesternight at Supper You sodainly arose, and walk'd about, Musing, and sighing, with your armes acrosse And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd vpon me, with vngentle lookes.

I vrg'd you further, then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stampt with your foote: Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, But with an angry wafter of your hand Gaue signe for me to leaue you: So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seem'd too much inkindled; and withall, Hoping it was but an effect of Humor, Which sometime hath his houre with euery man.

It will not let you eate, nor talke, nor sleepe; And could it worke so much vpon your shape, As it hath much preuayl'd on your Condition, I should not know you Brutus. Deare my Lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of greefe

Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all

Por. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, He would embrace the meanes to come by it