Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Nor ftony tower, nor walls of beaten brafs,
Nor airless dungeon, nor ftrong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the ftrength of fpirit;
But life, being weary of thefe worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

If I know this, know all the world befides,
That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
I can fhake off at pleasure.

So

Cafca. So can I:

every

bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity.

Caf. And why fhould Cæfar be a tyrant then?
Poor man! I know, he would not be a wolf,
But that he fees, the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with hafte will make a mighty fire,
Begin it with weak straws: What trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For the bafe matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Cæfar? But, O, grief!
Where haft thou led me? I, perhaps, fpeak this
Before a willing bondman: then I know
My answer must be made: But I am arm'd,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

Cafea. You fpeak to Cafca: and to fuch a man,
That is no flearing tell-tale. Hold my hand;
Be factious for redrefs of all thefe griefs;
And I will fet this foot of mine as far,

As who

goes fartheft.

Caf. There's a bargain made.

Now know you, Cafca, I have mov'd already
Some certain of the nobleft-minded Romans,

To

To undergo, with me, an enterprize
Of honourable-dangerous confequence;
And I do know, by this, they ftay for me
In Pompey's porch: For now, this fearful night,
There is no ftir, or walking in the streets;
And the complexion of the element,

It favours like the work we have in hand,
Most bloody, fiery, and molt terrible.

Enter CINNA.

Cafca. Stand clofe a while, for here comes one in hafte, Caf. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait; He is a friend.—Cinna, where haste you fo?

Cin. To find out you: Who's that? Metellus Cimber?
Caf. No, it is Cafca; one incorporate

To our attempts. Am I not ftaid for, Cinna?
Cin. I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this?
There's two or three of us have seen strange fights,
Caf. Am I not ftaid for? Tell me.

Cin. Yes,

You are.

O, Caffius, if you could but win

The noble Brutus to our party

Caf. Be you content: Good Cinna, take this paper And look you lay it in the prætor's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window; fet this up with wax Upon old Brutus' ftatue: all this done, Repair to Pompey's porch, where you fhall find us. Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius, there?

Cin. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone To feek you at your house. Well, I will hie, And fo beftow these papers as you bade me. Caf. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. [Exit CINNA.

Come,

Come, Cafca, you and I will, yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his houfe: three parts of him
Is ours already; and the man entire

Upon the next encounter, yields him ours.

Cafea. O, he fits high in all the people's hearts: And that which would appear offence in us, His countenance, like richest alchymy, Will change to virtue, and to worthiness.

Caf. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him, You have right well conceited. Let us go, For it is after midnight; and, ere day,

We will awake him, and be fure of him.

[Exeunt

ACT II.

SCENE 1.

Enter BRUTUS, in his orchard.

WHAT, Lucius! ho!

Brutus.

I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day.Lucius, I fay!
I would it were my fault to fleep fo foundly.-
When, Lucius, when! Awake, I fay: what, Lucius!
Enter LUCIUS.

Luc. Call'd you, my lord?

Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:

When it is lighted, come and call me here.
Luc. I will, my lord.

[Exit.

Bru. It must be by his death: and, for my part,

Bru

I know no perfonal cause to spurn at him,

But for the general. He would be crown'd:-
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?
That ;-

And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatnefs is, when it disjoins
Remorfe from power: And, to speak truth of Cæfar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reafon. But, 'tis a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face:
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back;
Looks in the clouds, fcorning the bafe degrees
By which he did afcend: So Cæfar may;
Then, left he may, prevent. And, fince the quarrel
Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these, and these extremities:
And therefore think him as a ferpent's egg,

Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the fhell.

Re-enter LUCIUS.

Luc. The taper burneth in your clofet, fir.
Searching the window for a fint, I found
This paper, thus feal'd up; and, I am fure,
It did not lie there, when I went to bed.
Bru. Get you to bed again, it is not day.
Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?
Luc. I know not, fir.

Bru

[Exit.

Bru. Look in the kalendar, and bring me word. Luc. I will, fir. Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air, Give fo much light, that I may read by them.

[Opens the letter, and reads.

Brutus, thou fleep'ft; awake, and fee thyfelf.
Shall Rome Speak, ftrike, redress!
Brutus, thou flcepit; awake,

Such inftigations have been often dropp'd
Where I have took them up.

Shall Rome Thus must I piece it out;

Shall Rome ftand under one man's awe? What! Rome?
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome

The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.
Speak, ftrike, redrefs!-Am I entreated

To fpeak, and ftrike? O Roman! I make thee promife,
If the redrefs will follow, thou receivest
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

Re-enter LUCIUS.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

[Knocks within.

Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate; fomebody knocks.

[Exit LUCIUS. Since Caffius first did whet me against Cæfar, I have not flept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantafma, or a hideous dream :
The genius, and the mortal inftruments,
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, fuffers then
The nature of an infurrection.

Re-enter