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Not hew him as a carcafe 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 purpose neceffary, and not envious:
Which, fo appearing to the common eyes,
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 Cafar

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

Is to himfelf; (2) take thought, and die for Cæfar: And that were much, he should; for he is giv'n To fports, 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. [15 BAT

Bru. Peace, count the clock.

Caf. The clock hath ftricken three.
Treb. 'Tis time to part.

Caf. But it is doubtful yet,

[Clock Atrikes

If Cæfar will come forth to-day, or no:
(3) For he is fuperftitious grown of late,
Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantafy, of dreams, and ceremonies :

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(2) take thought,] That is, turn melancholy. (3) For he is fuperftitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantafy, of dreams, and ceremonies:] Cæfar, as well as Caffus, was an Epicurean. By main opinion Caffius intends a compliment to his fect, and means folid, fundamental opinion grounded in truth and nature: As by fantafy is meant ominous forebodings; and by ceremonies, atonements of the Gods by means of religious rites and facrifices. A little after, where Calphurnia fays,

Cæfar, Inever flood on ceremonies,

Yet now they fright medialled land l

dnes mid aviso e The

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 fa refolv'd,
I can o'erfway him; (4) 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.
Let me 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 Caefar hard,
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 yourfelves; but all remember
What you have faid, and fhew yourselves true Romans.
Bru. Good Gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
(5) Let not our looks put on our purposes;
But bear it, as our Roman actors do,

The poet ufes Ceremonies in a quite different fenfe, namely, 'the turning accidents to omens, a principal fuperftition of antiquity." WARBURTON.

Main opinion, is nothing more than leading, fixed, predomi nant opinion.

(4)for he loves to hear, &c.] It was finely imagined by the poet, to make Cæfar delight in this fort of converfation. The Author of St. Euremond's life tells us, that the great Prince of Conde took much pleasure in remarking on the foible and ridicule of characters. WARBURTON

(5) Let not our looks- -] Let not our faces put on, that is, swear or fhow our defigns,

B 4


With untir'd fpirits, and formal conftancy.
And fo, good-morrow to you every one.

Manet Brutus.

Boy, Lucius !-Faft afleep. It is no matter,
Enjoy the honey heavy dew of Slumber.
Thou haft no figures, nor no fantafies,
Which bufy care draws in the brains of men ;
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found.


Enter Porcia.

Por. Brutus, my Lord!


Bru. Porcia, 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,

Stol'n 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 afk'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 famp'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 fhape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my Lord,


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 wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night?
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air,
To add unto his fickness? 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, yourself, 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 yourfelf,
But, as it were, in fort or limitation,
To keep with you at meals, confort

your bed,

And talk to you fometimes? dwell I but in the fub


Of your good pleasure? 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


I grant, I am a woman; but withal,

A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:

I grant, I am a woman; but withal,

A woman

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

Tell me your counfels, I will not disclose them:
I have made strong proof of my conftancy,
Giving myself 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.


Hark, hark, one knocks: Porcia, go in awhile;
And, by and by, thy bofom fhall 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 speak with you. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus fpake of. Boy, ftand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?

Cai. Vouchfafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue.
Bru. O, what a time have you chofe out, brave

To wear a kerchief? would you were not fick !
Cai. I am not fick, if Brutus have in hand

Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,

(6) A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter.] This false pointing fhould be corrected thus,

A woman well reputed Cato's daughter.

i.e. worthy of my birth, and the relation I bear to Cato. This indeed was a good reafon why fhe fhould be intrufted with the fecret. But the falfe pointing, which gives a fenfe only implying that he was a woman of a good character, and that the was Cato's daughter, gives no good reason: For fhe might be Cato's daughter, and yet not inherit his firmnefs; and the might be a woman well reputed, and yet not the beft at a fecret. But if he was well reputed Cato's daughter, that is, worthy of her birth, fhe could neither want her father's love to her country, nor his refolution to engage in its deliverance. WARB.


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