I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of fuch a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Cafar, fo 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 gufty day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his fhores,
Cæfar fays to me, "dar'ft thou, Caffius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
"And fwim to yonder point?"-Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

66

And bid him follow; fo, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews; throwing it afide,
And stemming it with hearts of controverfy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæfar cry'd, Help me, Caffius, or I fink."
I, as Eneas, our great Ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæfar; and this man

Is now become a God; and Caffius is

A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæfar carelefly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake; 'tis true, this God did fhake; 9 His coward lips did from their colour fly,

And that fame eye, whofe Bend doth awe the world Did lofe its luftre; I did hear him groan;

Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his fpeeches in their books, Alas! it cry'd give me fome drink, Titinius”—

9 His coward lips did from their colour fly,] A plain man would have faid, the colour fled from his lips, and not his lips from their colour, But the falfe ex

preffion was for the fake of as falfe a piece of wit: a poor quibble, alluding to a coward flying from his colours. WARB.

As

As a fick gril. Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of fuch a feeble temper fhould

So get the start of the majeftick world,
And bear the Palm alone.

Bru. Another general hout!

I do believe, that thefe applaufes are

[Shout. Flourish.

For fome new honours that are heap'd on Cafar.
Caf. Why, man, he doth beftride the narrow world
Like a Coloffus; and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and

peep about To find ourfelves difhonourable graves.

Men at fome times are mafters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Cæfar! what fhould be in that Cafar?
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 ftart a fpirit, as foon as Cæfar.
Now in the names of all the Gods at once,
Upon what meat does this our Cæfar feed,
That he is grown fo great? Age, thou art fham'd;
Rome, thou haft loft the breed of noble bloods.
When went there by an age, fince the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they fay, till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls incompafs'd but one man?
Now is it Rome, indeed; and room enough,

When there is in it but one only man.

Oh! you and I have heard our fathers fay;

There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd Th' eternal devil to keep his ftate in Rome,

2

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 fhall recount hereafter; for this present,

I would not, fo with love I might intreat you,
Be
any further mov'd. What you have said,
I will confider; what you have to fay,

I will with patience hear; and find a time
Both meet to hear, and answer fuch high things.
'Till then, my noble friend, 3 chew upon this;
Brutus had rather be a villager,

Than to repute himself a fon of Rome

Under fuch hard conditions, as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

Caf. I am glad that my weak words

Have ftruck but thus much fhew of fire from Brutus.

Bru. The Games are done, and Cæfar is returning. Caf. As they pass by, pluck Cafca by the fleeve, And he will, after his four fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to day.

Bru. I will do fo. But look you, Caffius, The angry spot doth glow on Cafar's brow, And all the reft look like a chidden train. Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero

2-eternal devil-] I should think that our authour wrote rather, infernal devil,

4

3 -chew upon this ;] Confider this at leifare; ruminate on this.

Looks

4

Looks with fuch ferret, and such fiery eyes,
As we have seen him in the Capitol,

Being croft in conf'rence by fome Senators.
Caf. Cafca will tell us what the matter is.
Caf. Antonius,

Ant. Cæfar?

Caf. [To Ant. apart.] Let me have men about me that are fat,

Sleek headed men, and fuch as fleep a-nights;
Yond Caffius has a lean and hungry look,
He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
Ant. Fear him not, Cafar, he's not dangerous;
He is a noble Roman, and well given.

5

Caf. Would he were fatter. But I fear him not; Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I fhould avoid,
So foon as that spare Caffius. He reads much;
He is a great obferver; and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men.
He loves no plays
As thou doft, Antony; he hears no mufick;
Seldom he fmiles, and fmiles in fuch a fort,
As if he mock'd himself, and fcorn'd his fpirit,
That could be mov'd to fmile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
Whilft they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Than what I fear; for always I am Cæfar,
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly, what thou think'st of him.

[Exeunt Cæfar and bis Train,

V.

SCENE

Manent Brutus and Caffius: Cafca to them.

Cafca. You pull'd me by the cloak. Would you fpeak with me?

Bru. Ay, Cafca, tell us what hath chanc'd to day, That Cæfar looks fo fad.

Cafca. Why, you were with him, were you not? Bru. I fhould not then afk Cafca what had chanc'd. Cafca. Why, there was a crown offer'd him, and being offer'd him, he put it by with the back of his hand thus; and then the people fell a fhouting. Bru. What was the fecond noife for?

Cafca. Why, for that too,

Caf. They fhouted thrice: what was the last cry for?

Cafea. Why, for that too.

Bru. Was the crown offer'd him thrice?

Cafea. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting by, mine honeft neighbours fhouted.

Caf. Who offer'd him the crown?

Cafea. Why, Antony.

Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Cafca.

Cafca. I can as well be hang'd, as tell the manner of it. It was meer foolery, I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown; yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets ;—and, as I told you, he put it by once; but for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offer'd it to him again: then he put it by again; but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offer'd it the third time; he put it the third time by; and ftill as he refus'd it, the rabblement