I think, he will stand very strong with us.
Cafca. Let us not leave him out.

Cin. No, by no means.

Met. O let us have him, for his filver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion,

And buy men's voices to commend our deeds:
It fhall be faid, his judgment rul'd our hands ;
Our youths and wildnefs fhall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.

Bru. O, name him not: let us not break with him; For he will never follow any thing,

That other men begin.

Caf. Then leave him out.

Cafca. Indeed he is not fit.

Dec. Shall no man elfe be touch'd, but only Cæfar? Caf. Decius, well urg'd: I think, it is not meet, Mark Antony, fo well belov'd of Cæfar,

Should out-live Cafar we fhall find of him

:

A fhrewd contriver. And you know, his means,
If he improve them, may well ftretch fo far,
As to annoy us all; which to prevent,

Let Antony and Cæfar fall together.

Bru. Our courfe will feem too bloody, Caius Caffius,
To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs ;
Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards:
For Antony is but a limb of Cæfar.

Let us be facrificers, but not butchers, Caius ;
We all ftand up against the fpirit of Cafar,
And in the spirit of man there is no blood:
O, that we then could come by Cefar's fpirit,
And not difmember Cæfar! but alas!
Cæfar muft bleed for it-And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a difh fit for the Gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.
And let our hearts, as fubtle masters do,
Stir up their fervants to an act of rage,
And after feem to chide them. This fhall make
Our purpofe neceffary, and not envious:
Which, fo appearing to the common eyes,

B 2

We

We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him ;
For he can do no more than Cæfar's arm,
When Cafar's head is off..

Caf. Yet I do fear him

For in th' ingrafted love he bears to Cæfar

Bru. Alas, good Caffius, do not think of him:
If he love Cafar, all that he can do

Is to himself, take thought, and die for Cafar:
And that were much, he fhould; for he is giv'n
To sports, to wildness, and much company.

Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die;
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

Bru. Peace, count the clock.
Caf. The clock hath stricken three.
Treb. 'Tis time to part.

Caf. But it is doubtful yet,

[Clock ftrikes.

If Cæfar will come forth to-day, or no:
For he is fuperftitious grown of late,
(Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantafy, of dreams, and ceremonies :
It may be, thefe apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the perfuafion of his augurers,
May hold him from the capitol to-day.

Dec. Never fear that; if he be fo refolv'd,
I can o'erfway him; for he loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glaffes, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.
But when I tell him, he hates flatterers.
He fays, he does; being then moft flattered,
Leave me to work:

For I can give his humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the capitol.

Caf. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Bru. By the eighth hour, is that the uttermoft?
Cin. Be that the uttermoft, and fail not then.

Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cafar hard,

Who

Who rated him for fpeaking well of Pompey;
I wonder, none of you have thought of him.
Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along to him
He loves me well; and I have giv'n him reasons ;
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

:

Caf. The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you Brutus; And, friends! difperfe yourselves; but all remember What you have faid, and fhew yourfelves true Romans. Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes; But bear it, as our Roman actors do, With untir'd fpirits, and formal conftancy; And fo, good-morrow to you every one.

Manet Brutus.

Boy! Lucius! fast asleep? it is no matter,
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of flumber:
Thou haft no figures, nor no fantafies,
Which bufy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found.

Enter Portia,

Por. Brutus, my Lord!

[Exeunt.

Bru. Partia, what mean you? wherefore rife you now? It is not for your health, thus to commit

Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

Por. Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and, yefternight at fupper, You fuddenly arofe and walk'd about, Mufing and fighing, with your arms a-cross; And, when I ask'd you what the matter was, You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks. I urg'd you further; then you fcratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: Yet I infifted, yet you answer'd not; But with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave fign for me to leave you: fo I did, Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience,

Which feem'd too much inkindled; and, withal,

Hoping it was but an effect of humour;
Which fometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep;
And could it work fo much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I fhould not know you, Brutus. Dear my Lard,
Make me acquainted with your caufe of grief.
Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
Por. Brutus is wife, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.

Bru. Why, fo I do good Porcia, go to bed.
Por. Is Brutus fick and is it phyfical
To walk unbraced, and fuck up the humours
Of the dank morning? what is Brutus fick?
And will he fteal out of his wholefome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night?
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air,
To add unto his ficknefs? no, my Brutus,
You have fome fick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,
I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, yourfelf, your half,
Why you are heavy: and what men to-night
Have had refort to you: for here have been
Some fix or feven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Porcia.

Por. I fhould not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted, I fhould know no fecrets

That appertain to you? am I yourself,
But, as it were, in fort or limitation ?

To keep with you at meals, confort your bed, (8)

And talk to you ?---------]

And

This is but an odd Phrafe, and gives as odd an Idea. The Word,

Word,

And talk to you sometimes? dwell I but in the fuburbs Of your good pleafure? if it be no more,

Porcia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

Bru. You are my true and honourable wife; As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops

That vifit my fad heart.

Por. If this were true, then fhould I know this fecret. I grant, I am a woman; but withal,

A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:

1

grant, I am a woman; but withal,

A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter.
Think you, I am no ftronger than my fex,
Being fo father'd, and fo hufbanded?

Tell me your counfels, I will not difclose them:
I have made ftrong proof of my conftancy,
Giving myfelf a voluntary wound

Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience,
And not my husband's fecrets?

Bru. O ye Gods!

Render me worthy of this noble wife.

[Knock.

Hark, hark, one knocks: Porcia, go in a while;
And, by and by, thy bosom shall partake

The fecrets of my heart,

All my engagements I will conftrue to thee,
All the charactery of my fad brows.

Leave me with hafte.

Enter Lucius and Ligarius.

Lucius, who's there that knocks.

[Exit Porcia.

Luc. Here is a fick man, that would fpeak with you. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus fpake of. Boy, ftand afide. Caius Ligarius! how?

Cai. Vouchfafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. Bru. O, what a time have you chofe out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief? 'would you were not fick !

I have fubftituted, feems much more proper; and is one of our Poet's own Ufage upon the like Occafions; which makes me fufpect, he employ'd it here.

B 4

Cai.