The live-long day with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pals the streets of Rome;
And when you faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an univerfal fhout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shores?

And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone-

Run to your houfes, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the Gods, to intermit the plague
That needs muft light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen; and for that fault

Affemble all the poor men of your fort,
Draw them to Tyber's bank, and weep your tears
Into the channel, 'till the lowest ftream
Do kifs the moft exalted shores of all.

[Exeunt Commoners, See, whe're their basest metal be not mov'd; They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltinefs. Go you down that way tow'rds the Capitol, This way will I. Difrobe the images, If

you do find them 3 deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May we do fo?

You know, it is the feaft of Lupercal.
Flav. It is no matter. Let no images.
Be hung with Cafar's trophies. I'll about,
And drive away the vulgar from the ftreets;

3-deck'd with ceremonies.] Ceremonie, for religious ornaments. Thus afterwards he explains them

by Cafar's trophies; i. e. fuch as he had dedicated to the Gods. WARBURTON.

So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers, pluckt from Cæfar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;
Who else would foar above the view of men,
And keep us all in fervile fearfulness.

[Exeunt feverally:

SCENE II.

Enter Cæfar, Antony. For the course, Calphurnia, Porcia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, a Soothsayer.

Caf. Calphurnia

Cafca. Peace, ho! Cæfar fpeaks.
Caf. Calpburnia-

Calp. Here, my Lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his Courfe

Antonius

Ant. Cæfar. My Lord.

Caf. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpburnia; for our Elders fay, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their fteril curse.

Ant. I fhall remember.

When Cæfar fays, do this; it is perform❜d.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cafar,

Caf. Ha! who calls?

Cafca. Bid every noife be ftill. Peace! Yet again. Caf. Who is it in the Prefs, that calls on me? I hear a tongue, fhriller than all the mufick, Cry, Cafar. Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Cef. What man is that?

Bru. A footh-fayer bids you beware the Ides of

March.

Caf.

Caf. Set him before me; let me fee his face.
Cafca. Fellow, come from the throng. Look upon
Cafar.

Caf. What fay'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pafs. [* Sennet. Exeunt Cæfar and Train.

SCENE

III.

Manent Brutus and Caffius.

Caf. Will you go fee the order of the Course?
Bru. Not I.

Caf. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamefome; I do lack fome part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let me not hinder, Caffius, your defires;
I'll leave you.

Caf. Brutus, I do obferve you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And fhew of love, as I was wont to have.
You bear too ftubborn and too ftrange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceiv'd if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Meerly upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with paffions of fome difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

4 I have here inferted the word Sennet, from the original edition, that I may have an opportunity of retracting a hafty conjecture in one of the marginal directions in Henry VIII. Sennet appears to be a particular tune or mode

of martial mufick.

5-frange a hand] Strange, is alien, unfamiliar, such as might become a ftranger.

6

• -paflions of fome difference,] With a fluctuation of difcordant opinions and defires.

Which

Which give some foil, perhaps, to my behaviours;
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Caffius, be you one,
Nor conftrue any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.

Caf. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your paffion;
By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you fee your face?

Bru. No, Caffius; for the eye fees not itself, But by reflexion from fome other things.

Caf. 'Tis juft;

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthinefs into your eye,
That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best refpect in Rome,
Except immortal Cæfar, fpeaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wifh'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Caffius,
That you would have me feek into myself,
For that which is not in me?

Caf. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear; And fince you know, you cannot fee yourself So well as by reflexion; I, your glass, Will modeftly discover to yourself That of yourself, which yet you know not of. And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus : Were I a common laugher, or did use 7 To ftale with ordinary oaths my love To every new proteftor; if you know, That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,

7 To fale with ordinary cabs my love, &c.] To invite very new proteftor to my affec.

tion by the ftale or allurement of cufiomary oaths.

And

And after scandal them; or if you know,
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout; then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish and fhout. Bru. What means this fhouting? I do fear, the People

Chufe Cafar for their King.
Caf. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think, you would not have it fo.
Bru. I would not, Caffius; yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here fo long?
What is it, that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,

8

Set Honour in one eye, and Death i' th' other,
And I will look on both indifferently,"
For, let the Gods fo fpeed me, as I love

The name of Honour, more than I fear Death.
Caf. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, Honour is the fubject of my story.
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my fingle felf,

8 And I will look on both indifferently;] This is a contradiction to the lines immediately fucceeding. If he lov'd bonour, more than be fear'd death, how could they be both indifferent to him? Honour thus is but in equal balance to death, which is not speaking at all like Brutus: for, in a foldier of any ordinary pretenfions, honour fhould always preponderate. We must certainly read,

And I will look on death indifferently.

What occafion'd the corruption, I prefume, was, the tranfcribers imagining, the adverb indifferenty must be applied to two things

oppos'd. But the use of the word does not demand it; nor does Shakespeare always apply it fo. In the prefent paffage it fignifies neglectingly; without fear, or concern: And fo Cafea afterwards, again in this act, employs it.

And dangers are to me indifferent.

I weigh them not; nor am deterr'd on the fcore of danger.

WARBURTON. This long note is very trifling. When Brutus first names honour and death, he calmly declares them indifferent; but as the image kindles in his mind, he fets honour above life. Is not this natural? I had