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I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon my self. Vexed I am
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to my self,
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviour:
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one,
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the Thews of love to other men.
Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Cassius, for the eye fees not it self,
But by reflexion from fome other things.
Caf. 'Tis just.
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar) speaking of Britus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoak,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead re, Caffius,
That you would have me seek into my self,
For that which is not in me?
Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear:
And since you know you cannot see your self
So well as by reflexion ; I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to your self
That of your self, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did ole
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protestor ; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them ; or if you know
That I profess my self in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
(Flourish and fout. Bru. What means this shouting ? I do fear, the people Chuse Cæfar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it?
Then muit I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not, Cassius; 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 ought toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' th other,
And I will look on 4/death' indifferently:
ror 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 felf,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I my self.
I was born free as Ceesar, so were you ;
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
For once upon a raw and gutty day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his shores,
Casar says to nie, Darst thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
sind swim a to yonder point ? upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bad him follow ; fo indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With (a) Swimming was one of the generous exercises practised at Romne, and learnt by all the youth of the best birth and quality as a necessary qualification towards good soldiership.
Warburton, old edit. Warb. emend,
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversie.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæfar cry'd, Help me, Caffius, or I fink.
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, fo, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cafar: and this man
Is now become a God, and Casius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæfar carelesly but nod on him.
He had a feaver when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake : 'tis true, this God did shake
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose its lustre ; Į did hear him groan :
Ay, and that tongue of his that bad the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas 'it cry'd, Give me some drink, Titinius
As a fick girl. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestick world,
And bear the palm alone.
Bru. Another general shout!
I do believe, that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.
Caf. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about,
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some times are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in our felves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cæsar! what should be in that Cæfar?
Why should that name be founded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name ;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cefar.
Now in the names of all the Gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæfar feed,
That he is grown fo great ? Age, thou-art sham'd;
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods.
When went there by an age, since the great food,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say, 'till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls incompast but one man ? a
you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a King.
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous ;
What you would work me to, I have some aim ;
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter : for this present,
I would not (so with love I might intreat you)
Be any further mov'd. What you have said,
I will consider'; what you have to say,
I will with patience hear, and find a time
Both meet to hear, and answer such high things.
'Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this ;
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under such hard conditions, as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
Caf. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much shew of fire from Brutus,
(a) -- but one man ?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough
When there is in it but one only man.
O! you and I, &c.
Enter Cæsar and his Train.
Bru. The games are done, and Cæfar is returning.
Cal. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,
And he will, after his four fashion, tell you
What hath proceeded worthy note to day.
Bru. I will do so: but look you, Casius,
The angry spot doth glow on Cæsar's brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden train;
Calphurnia's cheek is pale, and Cicero
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes,
As we have seen him in the Capitol,
Being croft in conf'rence with some Senators.
Caf. Casca will tell us what the matter is.
Cæf. Antonius !
Cæs. Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights:
Yond Caffius has a lean and hungry look,
He thinks too much ; such men are dangerous.
Ant. Fear him not, Cæfar, he's not dangerous.
He is a noble Roman, and well given.
Cæs. Would he were fatter ; but I fear him not :
Yet it my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid,
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much,
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men.
He loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no musick:'
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
Whilst they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,