Sooth. Cæsar!

Cæs. Ha! who calls?

Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again! Caes. Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry "Cæsar!" Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs.

What man is that?

Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Caes. Set him before me; let me see his face. 20 Cas. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Cæsar.

Caes. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caes. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
[Sennet. Exeunt all except Brutus and Cassius.
Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

18. [ides, i. e. the fifteenth day.]

30

21. [fellow. Rarely used in contemptuous sense, and prob ably not here.]

Bru.

Cassius,

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

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviour;
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd —
Among which number, Cassius, be you one-

Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.

40

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself
But by reflection, by some other thing.

Cas. 'Tis just:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Cæsar, speaking of Brutus
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

50

60

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cas

sius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear: And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
And after scandal them, or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish, and shout. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the

people

Choose Cæsar for their king.

Cas.

Ay, do you fear it? 80 Then must I think you would not have it so.

Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye and death i' th' other,
And I will look on both indifferently,
For let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favour.

71. jealous on me: a use of "on" for "of" hardly obsolete in New England.

88. [When we wish one “Godspeed," we wish that God favor him.]

91. [When we say that a boy favors his father, we mean that his face is like his father's ; and the favor given in the German has its meaning also in Shakespeare's time of a token of favor The double meaning is cleverly shown in Love's Labour's Lost Act V., Sc. 2, 1. 30–33.]

Well, honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Cæsar; so were you:
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he:
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cried "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Cæsar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

100

110

95 [Words are so alive to Shakespeare that he is forever playing with them on very slight pretexts. Lief and live are pronounced alike.]

109. controversy: loosely used for contention, resistance. 110. arrive the point: a use of "arrive" without "at" fre quently found in our old writers.

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake: 't is true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
Mark him and write his speeches in their books,
Alas, it cried "Give me some drink, Titinius,"
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world
And bear the palm alone.

Bru. Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

120

130

[Shout. Flourish.

For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar. Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

140

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Cæsar: what should be in that "Cæsar"?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
"Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Cæsar."
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd! 150 Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood,