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

It is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no fuch mirrors, as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your Eye,

That you might fee your fhadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome
(Except immortal Cafar) fpeaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke
Have wifh'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Then fince you know, you cannot fee your-felf
So well as by reflection; I, your glass,
Will modeftly discover to your-felf

That of yourself, which yet you know not of:
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus ;
Were I a common laughter, or did use
To steal with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protector; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after fcandal them; or if you know,
That I profefs myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
Honour is the fubject of my story.

I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my fingle self.
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of fuch a thing as I my-felf.

I was born free as Cafar ;-fo 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 gufty day

The troubled Tyber chafing with his fhores, Cafar fays to me;- Dar'ft thou, Cassius, now, Leap in with me into this angry flood,

• And fwim to yonder point?'-upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bad him follow; fo indeed he did:
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews, throwing it afide,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy:
But, ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cafar cry'd, help me, Cafsius, or I fink-

1, as Eneas our great ancestor,

Did, from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo, from the waves of Tyber,
Did I the tired Cafar:And this man

Is now become a God; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and muft bend his body,
If Cafar carelefly but nod on him.——
He had a fever, when he was in Spain;
And when the fit was on him, I did mark,
How he did shake; 'Tis true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly;

And that fame eye, whofe bend doth awe the world,
Did lofe its luftre :-I did hear him
groan:-
Ay; and that tongue of his, that bad the Romans
Mark him, and write his fpeeches in their books;
Alas! it cry'd, give me fome drink, Titinius !
As a fick 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.-

Why, man, he doth beftride the narrow world,
Like a Coloffus; and we, petty men,

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find our-felves difhonourable graves.-
Men at fometimes are mafters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in our-felves, that we are underlings..
Brutus and Cafar! What should be in that Cafar?
Why should that name befounded more than your's? ̈ ́
Write them together; your's 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 fpirit as foon as Cafar.
Now, in the names of all the Gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cafar feed,
That he is grown fo great ?-Age, thou art sham'd!
Rome, thou haft loft the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, fince the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they fay, 'till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls encompast but one man?'
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man,-
O! you and I have heard our fathers fay,
"There was a Brutus once, who would have brook'd
"The eternal devil to keep his ftate in Rome,
'As easily as a King."

CATO'S

CATO'S SOLILOQUY.
[By Mr. ADDISON.]

CATO alone, fitting in a thoughtful pofture: in his band Plato's book on the immortality of the foul: a drawn fword on the table.

IT muft be fo.-Plato, thou reason'st well!

Elfe, whence this pleafing hope, this fond defire, This longing after Immortality;

Or whence this fecret dread, and inward horrour of falling into naught? Why fhrinks the foul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;

'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an Hereafter, And intimates Eternity to man.

Eternity! thou pleafing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untry'd being,

Through what new fcenes and changes muft we pafs!

The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darknefs.reft upon it.
Here will I hold: If there's a power above us,
(And, that there is, all Nature cries aloud
Through all her works) HE muft delight in virtue;
And that, which he delights in, must be happy.
But when! or where!-this world was made for

CÆSAR

I'm weary of conjectures.-This muft end them.

Thus am I doubly árm'd; my death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me:

This in a moment brings me to a end;
But thist informs me, I fhall never die;
The foul, fecur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The Stars shall fade away, the fun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature fink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the cruth of worlds.

PHOCIAS'S SOLILOQUY.

FAREWELL, and think of death! Was it not fo?

Do murderers then preach mortality?

But, how to think of, what the living know not,
And the dead cannot or elfe may not tell?
What art thou, O thou great misterious terrour!
The way to thee we know; diseases, famine,
Sword, fire, and all thy ever-open gates,
Which day and night stand ready to receive us.
But, what's beyond them?-Who will draw that
veil?

Yet death's not there:-No, 'tis a point of time,
The verge 'twixt mortal and immortal being:
It mocks our thought!-On this fide, all is life;
And when we've reach'd it, in that very instant
'Tis past the thinking of!-O! if it be

The pangs, the throes, the agonizing struggle,
When foul and body part; fure I have felt it,
And there's no mure to fear.