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The king/ shall have my service; but my prˇayers/
For ever, and for e'ver, shall be yo^urs.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a te'ar/
In all my mi'series, but thou hast forced me,
(Out of thy ho'nest-truth) to pla'y the wo'man-
Let's dry our eyes; and th`us far/ he'ar me, Cromwell,
And when I am forg'otten, (as I sha'll-be,)

And sleep in d'ull/ co^ld maʼrble (where no mention
O'f me must more be he'ard,) say, then, I' tau`ght thee
Say, Wolsey, that once trode the waves of glory,
And sounded all the depth's and sho`als of honour,
Found the e-a-way (out of his wre'ck) to ris`e in;
(A sur'e and safe one, though thy master mis'sed it.)
Mark but my f'all/, and thaˇt/ which rui`ned me:
Cro'mwell, I charge thee, fling away ambi'tion;
By that-sin/fell the an^gels; how can ma ̄n-then
(Though the image of his Maker) ho'pe to w'in-by-it?
Love thyself/ last; cherish those hea'rts/ that w'ait-thee;
(Corruption wins not more than honesty.)

Still in thy right ha'nd/ carry gentle peace,


To silence e'nvious tongues. Be ju ́st, and fe`ar not.
Let all the en'ds/ thou ai'm'st-at/ be thy Coun'try's,

Thy Go'd's, and Truth's; the'n/ if thou fall'est, (O Cro'mwell!) Thou fallest a bl'essed ma'rtyr! Serve the King

And pri'thee, lead me in`

There take an in'ventory of all I ha've,

(To the last penny, 'tis the King's.) My rob'e,
And my in'tegrity to Heaven, are all'

I dare no'w/ call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my* Go'd/ with hal'f-the-zeal
I served my King, he would (not in mine+ a'ge)
Have left me na'ked/to mine e'nemies!

Crom. Goo'd Sir, have pa'tience.

Wol. So I hav'e. Farewe'll

The hopes of cour't! My ho'pes in Heˇaven/ now dw`ell.

* For the sake of due solemnity, "my," before God, should be pronounced so as to rhyme with high.

"Mine." In reading the Scriptures, we are at no loss about the pronunciation of this pronoun, as the dignity and solemnity of the composition invariably direct us to give the i its long sound, as in the substantive; but in Milton and Shakspeare, this pronunciation has an intolerable stiffness, and ought not to be used.




Cas. WILL you go see the o'rder of the course?
Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pr'ay-you d'o.

Bru. I am not ga'mesome; I do lack some part
Of that quick spi'rit that is in A'ntony;

Let me not hinder, Ca'ssius, your desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of la'te;
I have not from your e'yes that gentleness
And show of lo've/ as I was wont to h'ave,
You bear too stubborn and too stra'nge a hand/
Over your friend/ that lo`ves you.

Bru. Ca'ssius,

Be not deceived: If I have veiled my lo'ok,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
M'erely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with pa'ssions of some d'ifference,
(Conceptions only proper to myself;

Which give some soil perha'ps/ to my behaviour;)
But/ let not/ ther'efore/ my good friends be gr'ieved,
(Among which number, Ca'ssius, be you-one ;)
Nor construe any fa'rther my negl'ect,

Than that poor Bru'tus (with himself at w'ar)

Forgets the shews of lo've/ to o'ther-men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much m'istook your pa`ssion;

By means where'of, this breast of mi'ne/ hath buried
Thoughts of great value, wo'rthy cogit^ations.

Tell me, good Bru'tus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Ca'ssius; for the eye/ sees not its ́elf,
But by refl'ection/ from some o'ther-thing.

Cas. 'Tis ju'st.

And it is very much lame'nted, Brutus,
That yo^u/ have no such mirror/ as will turn
Your hidden wo`rthiness/ into your eye,

That you might see your sha'dow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect of Ro'me,
(Except immortal Cæsar) speaking of Bru'tus,
And groaning underneath this age's y'oke,

me, C'assius,

Have wished that noble Br'utus/ h'ad his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead
That you would have me seek into my'self
For th'at which is not in`-me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to he`ar;
And/ since you kno'w/ you cannot see yourself
So we'll as by reflection, I' (your glass)

Will modestly disco'ver/ to your'self

Th`at of yourself/ which y'et/ you know not o'f.
And be not jealous of m'e, (gentle Brutus:)
Were I a common lau'gher, or did use/
To st'ale/ with ordinary oa'ths/ my l'ove/
To every new protes'tor; if you kn'ow,
That I do fawn on me'n, and hug them ha`rd,
And after scandal-them; or, if you know,
That I profess myself in ba'nqueting

To all the ro'ut; th'en hold me dangerous.

Bru. What means this sho`uting? I do fear the people Choose C'æsar/ for their king.

Cas. A'y, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it s'o.

Bru. I would not, C'assius; yet I love him we'll.
But wherefore do you hold me here so lo`ng?
What is it, that you would impar't to me?
If it be aught toward the general-g'ood,
Set Honour in one ey'e, and Death/ in the other;
And I will look on De'ath/ indi'fferently:
Fo`r/ let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of Honour/ mo`re than I fear Deˇath.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As we'll as I do kn'ow your o'utward fa'vour.
W'ell, ho'nour is the s'ubject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this l'ife; b'ut/ for my single s'elf,
I had as lief no't be, as li've to b'e
In awe of such a thing as I my'self.

I was born free as Cæ'sar; so were you;
We both have fe'd as w'ell; and we can both
Endure the winter's co`ld/ as well as hˇe.
For/once upon a raw and gusty d'ay,

(The troubled Tyber chafing with his sh ́ores,)
Cæsar sa'id to me, Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with m'e/ into this angry flo'od,

And swi'm/to yonder p'oint?-Upon the word,
(Accoutred as I w'as) I plunged i'n,
And bade him fo'llow; so indeed he di'd.
The torrent roa'red, and we did b'uffet it
With lusty si'news; throwing it a'side,
And ste`mming it/ with he'arts of controversy.
B'ut, er'e we could arrive the point prop'osed,
Cæsar cried, He'lp me, Ca'ssius, or I si'nk.
Then, as Æneas (our great ancestor)

Did from the flames of Tr'oy/ upon his shoulder
The old Anchises b'ear; so from the wa'ves of Ty'ber
Did I' the ti^red-Cæsar: and this man

Is now become a good; and Ca ́ssius/ is

A wretched cre'ature, and must bend his b'ody,
If Cæsar c ́arelessly/ but no'd on-him.

He had a f'ever/ when he was in Spa'in,
And/ when the fi't was o'n-him, I did m'ark

How he did sha'ke. 'Tis true, this go'd di'd-sha'ke;
His coward l'ips/ did from their colour fl'y,

And that same e'ye (whose bend doth a'we the w ́orld,)
Did lo ́se its lus'tre; I did hear him gro`an:

Ay and that tongue of hi`s, that bade the R'omans
Ma'rk him, and write his spee'ches in their bo'oks,
Ala's! it cr ́ied—Give me some drink, Tit’inius
As a sick girl! Ye g'ods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble te'mper/ should/
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the pa'lm alone!

Bru. Another general sh ́out!

I do believe, that these applau'ses/ are

For some n^ew-honours that are h'eaped/ on Cæsar.
Cas. Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world
L'ike a Colo'ssus/; and we petty m'en

Walk under his huge le`gs, and peep ab'out
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at sometime/ are ma'sters of their f'ate:
The fa'ult (dear Bru'tus) is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Br'utus-and Cæ'sar-what should be in-that-Cæsar?
Why should th at-name be sounded, more than yo`ur's?
Write them together; yours is as fa'ir a n'ame:
Sou'nd them, it doth become the mo'uth as w'ell;
We'igh them, it is as he'avy; conjure with them,

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Brutus will start a spirit/ as soon as Cæsar.
N'ow, in the name of all the go'ds at on'ce,
Upon what meats/ doth this our Cæsar fe ́ed,
That he is grown so great? A'ge, thou art sha'med;
R'ome, thou hast lost thy breed of noble bloods.
When could they s'ay, till no'w, that talked of Ro'me,
That her wide walls encompassed but one-man?
Oh! you and I have heard our fathers sa'y,

There was a Brutus o'nce that would have brooked
A whip-galled slave/ to keep his state in R`ome
As easily as a king.

Bru. That you do l'ove me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would wo'rk me to', I have some a'im:
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount herea'fter: for this present,
I would not (so with love I might intr'eat-you)
Be any further-moved. What you
have s'aid,
I will consi'der: what you ha've to say,

I will/ with p'atience he'ar; and find a ti'me

Both me'et to hear, and a'nswer such high thi'ngs. 'Till th'en (my noble fr'iend) chew

Brutus had rather be a villager,

upon thi's:

Than to repute himself a so'n of Ro'me,
Under such hard condi'tions/ as this time
Is l'ike to la'y upon us.

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Ir must be by his death: and, for my part,
I know no personal cause/ to sp'urn at him;
But, for the general. He would be cro^wned—

How that might change his na'ture, there's' the question.
It is the bright da'y/ that brings the adder fo'rth;

And th'at/ craves wa^ry walking: crown him!-thaˇt !—
And then, I gra'nt, we put a sti'ng in him,

Tha't/ at his w'ill, he may do dan`ger with.
The abuse of great'ness is, when it disjoins

Remo'rse from po'wer: and, to speak truth of Cæ'sar,

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