Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own,
To found more fweetly in great Cafar's ear
For the repealing of my banifh'd brother?

Bru. I kifs thy hand, but not in flattery, Cafar;
Defiring thee, that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Caf. What, Brutus !

Caf. Pardon, Cæfar; Cafar, pardon;
As low as to thy foot doth Caffius fall,
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
Caf. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you;
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me;
But I am conftant as the northern star,
Of whofe true, fixt, and refting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament;

The skies are painted with unnumber'd fparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth fhine;
But there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So, in the world, 'tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and (7) apprehenfive;
Yet, in the number, I do know (8) but one
That unaffailable (9) holds on his rank,
Unfhak'd of motion: and that I am he

Let me a little fhew it, ev'n in this:

That I was constant, Cimber should be banish'd;

And constant do remain to keep him fo.

Cim. O Cæfar

Caf. Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Dec. Great Cafarr

Caf. (1) Doth not Brutus bootlefs kneel?
Gafca. Speak hands for me. [They ftab Cæfar.
Caf. Et tu, Brute ?Then fall Cæfar! [Dies.
Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead-
Run hence, proclaim. Cry it about the streets.

fions.

((7)

(8)

-apprehenfive ;] Sufceptible of fear, or other paf

but one] One, and only one.

bolds on his rank,] Perhaps, holds on his race; continues his course. We commonly fay, To hold a rank, and, To hold on a courfe or way.

(1) Doth not Brutus bootlefs kneel?] I would read,

Do not Brutus bootlefs kneet!

Caf.

Caf. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement.

Bru. People, and Senators! be not affrighted; Fly not, ftand ftill. Ambition's debt is paid. Cafca. Go to the Pulpit, Brutus.

Dec. And Caffius too.

Bru. Where's Publius?

Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Met. Stand faft together, left fome friends of Cafar's

Should chance

Bru. Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your person,

Nor to no Roman elfe; fo tell them, Publius.

Caf. And leave us, Publius, left that the people, Rufhing on us, fhould do your age fome mifchief. Bru. Do fo: and let no man abide this deed, But we the Doers.

SCENE II.

Enter Trebonius.

Cal. Where is Antony?

Tre. Fled to his houfe amaz’d.

Men, wives, and children, ftare, cry out, and run, As it were Dooms-day,

Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures; That we fhall die, we know; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men ftand upon. Caf. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts of fo many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Cafar's friends, that have abridg'd His time of fearing death. (2) Stoop, Romans, ftoop; And

(2) In all the editions this fpeech is afcribed to Brutus, than which nothing is more inconfiftent with his mild and philofophi cal character. But (as I often find fpeeches in the later editions put into wrong mouths, different from the first published by the author) I think this liberty not unreasonable.

POPE.

Stoop,

And let us bathe our hands in Cafar's blood
Up to the elbows, and befmear our swords;
Then walk we forth ev'n to the Market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry,
"Peace! Freedom! and Liberty !"
Caf. Stoop then, and wash. How many ages

hence

[Dipping their words in Cæfar's blood.

Shall this our lofty Scene be acted o'er,

In States unborn, and accents yet unknown?
Bru. How many times fhall Cafar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's Bafis lies along,

No worthier than the duft?

Caf. So oft as that fhall be,

So often fhall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty,
Dec. What, fhall we forth?

Caf. Ay, every man away.

Brutus fhall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldeft, and beft hearts of Rome.

Enter a Servant.•

Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my mafter bid me kneel Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; [kneeling. And, being proftrate, thus he bad me fay ; Brutus is noble, wife, valiant and honeft;

Stoop, Romans, Stoop;] Mr. Pope has arbitrarily taken away the remainder of this fpeech from Brutus, and placed it to Cafca: becaufe, he thinks, nothing is more inconfiftent with Brutus's mild and philofophical character. I have made bold to restore the fpeech to its right owner. Brutus efteem'd the death of Cæfar a facrifice to liberty: and, as fuch, gloried in his heading the enterprife. Befides, our poet is strictly copying a fact in hiftory. Plutarch, in the life of Cafar, fays, "Brutus and his "followers, being yet hot with the murder, march'd in a body "from the fenate-house to the Capitol, with their drawn fwords, "with an air of confidence and affurance." And, in the life of Brutus,- "Brutus and his party betook themselves to the Ca"pitol, and in their way bering their hands all bloody, and "their naked fwords, proclaim'd liberty to the people.'

Dr. Warburton follows Pope.

THEOBALD.

Cafar

Cæfar was mighty, bold, royal and loving;
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I fear'd Caefar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchfafe that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cafar hath deferv'd to lie in death:
Mark Antony fhall not love Cæfar dead,
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod State,
With all true faith. So fays my mafter Antony.
Bru. Thy mafter is a wife and valiant Roman;
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, fo please him come unto this place,
He fhall be fatisfied; and by my honour,

Depart untouch'd.

Serv. I'll fetch him presently.

[Exit Servant.

Bru. I know, that we fhall have him well to friend.

Caf. I wish, we may but yet have I a mind, That fears him much; and my misgiving ftill Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

SCENE III.

Enter Antony.

Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.

Ant. O mighty Cafar! doft thou lie fo low? Are all thy conquefts, glories, triumphs, fpoils, Shrunk to this little measure ?

-fare thee well.

I know not, Gentlemen, what you intend,
Who else must be let blood, (3) who else is rank;
If I myself, there is no hour fo fit

As Cæfar's death's hour; nor no inftrument

Of half that worth as thofe your fwords, made rich
With the moft noble blood of all this world.
I do befeech ye, if ye bear me hard,

Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and fmoke,

(3)-who elfe is rank;] Who elfe may be fupposed to have overtopped his equals, and grown too high for the public fafety.

Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I fhall not find myself so apt to die:

No place will please me fo, no mean of death,
As here by Cafar, and by you cut off,
The choice and mafter fpirits of this age.

Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us:
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands, and this our prefent act,
You fee, we do; yet fee you but our hands,
And this the bleeding business they have done;
Our hearts you fee not, they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome
(As fire drives out fire, fo pity, pity)

Hath done this deed on Cafar. For your part,
To you our fwords have leaden points, Mark Antony ;
(4) Our arms exempt from malice, and our hearts,
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in

With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Caf. Your voice fhall be as ftrong as any man's
In the difpofing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient, 'till we have appeas'd
The multitude, befide themselves with fear;
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cæfar when I ftrook him,
Proceeded thus.

Ant. I doubt not of your wifdom.

Let each man render me his bloody hand.
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Caffius, do I take your hand;
Now Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus ;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Cafca, yours;
Tho' laft, not leaft in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all-alas, what fhall I fay?

My credit now ftands on fuch flippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.

(4) Our arms exempt from malice,] This is the reading only of the modern editions, yet perhaps the true reading. The old copy has,

Our arms in ftrength of malice.

VOL. IX.

C

That