And fince, you know, you cannot see your self
So well as by Reflexion; I, your Glass,
Will without all Disguise discover now
That of your felf, which yet you know not of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle BRUTUS.
Were I fome flight Buffoon, or us❜d to flatter,
To cloy each Man I meet with proffer'd Love,
And then betray him; did I use to fawn
And hug Men hard, then crush them with my Scandal;
Or if you ever knew me riotous
To loss of Reafon; then you might fufpect me.
What Shouts are these?
I hope, like those just now,
For joy, that CÆSAR has refus'd the Crown.
If you hope that, you would not have him King.
I would not, CASSIUS; yet I love him well.
And do you think he would forgive that Wish,
Or would accept your Love, with that Allay?
If juft, he will; and, if unjuft, I care not.
But wherefore do you hold me here fo long?
I fee you labour with fome weighty thing.
If it be towards the gen'ral Good, fpeak quickly;
I am in hafte to meet your noble Thoughts.
Set Virtue in my Eye, and let grim Death
Shake his unheeded Dart, I'll still be fix'd.
For, may the Gods fo help me, as, for Honour,
I look indiff'rently on Life or Death.
I know your Virtue, BRUTUS, and dare truft it.
Well, Honour is the Subject of my Story.
I cannot tell what you and other Men
Think of this Life; but for my single self,
I'll chufe much rather not to live at all,
Than live to be in awe of any thing.
I was born free as CESAR; fo are you;
We both are bred as well; and we can both
Endure the Winter's Cold as well as he,
For, once upon a raw and gufty Day,
The troubled Tiber turn'd into a Foam,
CASAR fays to me, CASSIUS, dar'st thou now
Leap in with me into this angry Flood,
And fwim to yonder Point? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plung'd me in,
Q 3
'And bade him follow; fo indeed he did :
The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it,
With lufty Sinews throwing it afide,
But yet, e'er we could reach the Point propos'd,
CESAR, cry'd, help me, CASSIUS, or I fink!
Just as ENEAS, our great Ancestor,
Did from the Flames of Troy bear on his Shoulders
The old ANCHISES, I, from Tiber's Waves
Bore the tir'd CÆSAR: Yet this feeble Man
Is now become a God; and CASSIUS is
A wretched Creature, and must bend his Body,
If CESAR give him but a careless Nod.
A ftrange Difeafe poffeffes him fometimes,
This day I faw him fall into his Fit;
(That which delay'd the Sports till Afternoon.)
This God has fall'n to ground, and foam'd at mouth,
His Limbs have trembled, and his Eyes have roll'd,
Yet now his Look muft awe the trembling World.
Nay, I have heard him groan, like a fick Girl;
And that fmoothTongue which us'd to move fo much,
And make the Romans fet down all it said,
Would faulter then, and stammer out ftrange things.
Gods! why fhould one of fuch a feeble Temper
Be fet upon the Top of all this World,
To look down on Mankind?
Another Shout! fure Rome is turn'd a Revel!
I fear at least they crown him with Applause,
Why, Man, he now bestrides the narrow World,
Like a Coloffus; and we petty Men
Walk under his huge Legs, and peep about,
To find our felves difhonourable Graves.
Men, at some times, are Mafters of their Fates;
The Fault, dear BRUTUS, is not in our Stars,
But in our felves, that we are Underlings.
BRUTUS, and CESAR! where's the difference?
Why fhould that Name be founded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a Name;
Shout BRUTUS, and the Echo is as loud:
BRUTUS and CÆSAR! conjure with those Names,
BRUTUS will start a Spirit, as foon as CÆSAR,
Now in the Name of all the Gods at once,
On what high Fame does this our CÆSAR feed,
That he is grown fo great? Age, thou art fham'd!
Rome, thou haft loft thy Breed of noble Blood!
When did there pass an Age, fince Time first was,
That the whole World refounded but one Man?
When could they fay, till now, who talk'd of Rome,
That her wide Walls contain'd one fingle Hero?
O, you and I have heard our Fathers fay,
There was a BRUTUS once, who kill'd his Sons,
And would have flain his dearest Friend, nay Father,
Rather than fuffer Rome to be enflay'd.
That CASSIUS loves 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 fhall recount hereafter; for this prefent,
I would not (if with Love I might intreat it)
Be any farther mov'd. What you have said,
I will confider; what you have to say,
I will with patience bear, and find a time
Both fit to hear, and answer fuch high things.
Till then, my noble Friend, remember this;
BRUTUS had rather be a Villager,
A worthless Stranger, than a Son of Rame,
Under fuch hard Conditions as this Time
Is like to lay upon us.
That my weak Words have drawn thus much from
A fudden Storm! I'll leave you, noble CASSIUS; [Exceffive Thunder and Lightning on a fudden.
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