FROM JULIUS CÆSAR.

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason!-Bear with me,
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

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But yesterday the word of Cæsar might

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Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

O masters! if I were disposed to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar,
I found it in his closet,-'tis his will;

Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read),
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,

Unto their issue.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time ever Cæsar put it on;
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent;
That day he overcame the Nervii.

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through ;
See, what a rent the envious Casca made;
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd

If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no.

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:
Judge, O you gods! how dearly Cæsar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all:

For, when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,

Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;

113

And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? look you here,
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

They, that have done this deed are honourable;
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,

That made them do it; they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;

I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,

That love my friend; and that they know full well
That give me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood; I only speak right on;

I tell you that, which you yourselves do know;

Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.'

THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.

Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this:
You have condemn'd and noted2 Lucias Pella,

For taking bribes here of the Sardians;

Wherein, my letters, praying on his side,

Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a case.

1 Our space compels, in this extract, the omission of the interspersed dialogue of the plebeians; this omission detracts greatly from the effect of the oration. The productions of Shakespeare's imagination are so "all compact," that the beauties of particular passages are obscured when deprived of the lights reflected from the context; and this is peculiarly the case with extracts from Julius Cæsar.

2 Marked with disgrace; for the "Censoria Nota." See Adam's Roman Antiquities.

Wonderfully in accordance with the represented character of Cassius.

FROM JULIUS CÆSAR.

Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice1 offence should bear his comment.
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
To sell and mart your offices for gold.
To undeservers.

Cas. I an itching palm?

You know, that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

Cas. Chastisement!

115

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain2 touched his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours,
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?-
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas.
Brutus, bait not me,
I'll not endure it; you forget yourself,
To hedge me in: I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru.

Cas. I am.

Go to: you are not, Cassius.

Bru. I say, you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther.
Bru. Away, slight man!

Cas. Is't possible?

Bru.

Hear me, for I will speak,

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares?

Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this?

Bru. All this! ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break;

Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must Í budge?

1 Petty.

2 i. e. Granting that there might be villains among the conspirators. Bear-baiting, a favourite amusement of the days of Elizabeth, furnishes frequent allusions in Shakespeare and the other dramatic writers ;

They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,

But bear-like I must fight the cause.-Macb. v. 7.

Another reading is bay, retorting the expression in the preceding line: but the words seem in origin to be the same.

In presuming to control or censure me. To make conditions; "to know on what terms it is fit to confer the offices at my disposal."-Johnson.

Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? by the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you: for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas.

Is it come to this?

Bru. You say you are a better soldier:

Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,

And it shall please me well: for mine own part,

I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier; not a better.

Did I say, better?

Bru.

If you did, I care not.

Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.
Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him.
Cas. I durst not?

Bru. No.

Cas. What? durst not tempt him?

Bru.

For your life you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love;

I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;

For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,

That they pass by me, as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ;-
For I can raise no money by vile means:

By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
By any indirection ;-I did send

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,

To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

Cas.

Bru. You did.

Cas.

I denied you not.

I did not; he was but a fool

That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath rived my heart.
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities;

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.1

Till you goad me into exaggeration by the annoyance they occasion. This line has great beauty when viewed in connection with the succeeding scene.

FROM JULIUS CÆSAR

Cas. You love me not.

Bru.

I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is a-weary of the world;

Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes!-There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold;
If that thou be'st a Roman,' take it forth;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar; for, I know,

117

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Bru.

Sheath your dagger.

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.2
O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas.

Hath Cassius lived

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cas. Do you confess so much? give me your hand.
Brù. And my heart too.

Cas.

Bru.

O Brutus !

What's the matter?

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour, which my mother gave me,
Makes me forgetful?

Bru.

Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,

He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

1 So far from being parsimonious, I would give to a Roman my heart in the cause of my country.

2 I will treat as your foible.