Gaf. What, urge you your petitions in the streets? Come to the Capitol.

Pop. I wish your enterprife to day may thrive.
Caf. What enterprife, Popilius?
Pop. Fare
you well.

Bru. What faid Popilius Læna?

Caf. He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive.. I fear our purpose is discovered.

Bru Look, how he makes to Cæfar; mark him.
Caf. Cafca, be fudden, for we fear prevention.
Brutus, what fhall be done, if this be known?
Caffius, or Cæfar, never thall turn back;
For I will flay myself.

Bru. Caffius, be conftant.

Popilius Læna fpeaks not of our purpose.;

For, look, he finiles, and Cæfar doth not change.
Caf Trebonius knows his time; for look you, Brutus,,
He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? let him go,

And prefently prefer his fuit to Cæfar.

Bru. He is address'd; press near, and fecond him... Cin. Calca, you are the firft that rears your hand. Caf. Are we all ready? what is now amifs, That Cæfar and his fenate mult redrefs ?

Met. Moft High, Moft Mighty, and Moft Puiffant

Cæfar,

Metellus Cimber throws before thy feat
An humble heart

[Kneeling

Caf. I mult prevent thee, Cimber; Thefe crouchings and thefe lowly curtefies, Might ftir the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance* and first decree. Into the lane of children. Be not fond, To think that Cæfar bears fuch rebel blood, That will be thaw'd from the true quality With that which melteth fools; I mean, fweet words,. Low-crooked curt'fies, and bafe fpaniel-fawning.

Thy brother by decree is banished;

If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
1 fpurn thee like a cur out of my way.

Know, Cæfar doth not wrong; nor without caufe
Will he be fatisfied.

pre-ordinance, for ordinance already established,

Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own, To found more fweetly in great Cæfar's ear,

For the repealing of my banish'd brother?

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

Caf Pardon, Cæfar; Cæfar, pardon;
As low as to thy foot doth Caffius fall,
To beg infranchisement 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 ftar. *

Let me a little fhew it, even in this;

That i was conftant, Cimber should be banish'd;
And conftant do remain to keep him fo..

Cin. O Cæfar

Caf. Heace! wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Dec. Great Cæfar

Caf. Do not, Brutus, bootless kneel !

Cafca. Speak hands for me,

Caf. Et tu, Brute?

[They ftab Cæfar.

Gin. Liberty! freedom! tyranny is dead

Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the ftreets

Caf. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out,
Liberty, freedom, and infranchisement.

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

Dec. And Caffius too.

Bru. Where's Publius ?

northern star.

Of whose true, fix'd, and refting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament.

The skies are painted with unnumber'd fpark s,.
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 apprehenfive;
Yet, in the number, I do know but one
That unaffailable holds on his rank,
Unfhak'd of motion; and that I am he..
Let me, &c.

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

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

Nor to no Roman else; so tell them, Publius.
Caf. And leave us, Publius, left that the people.
Rufhing on us, should do your age fome mischief.
Bru. Do fo; and let no man abide this deed,
But we the doers.

SCENE II.

Caf. Where is Antony?

Enter Trebonius.

Tre. Fled to his house amaz'd.

Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run, As it were doomsday.

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

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit;
So are we Cæfar's friends, that have abridg'd
His time of fearing death.

Cafea Stoop, Romans, stoop;

And let us bathe our hands in Cæfar's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our fwords ;
Then walk we forth even to the market-place,
And waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry,
"Peace! freedom! liberty.
Caf. Stoop then, and wash-How many ages hence-
[Dipping their fwords in Cafar's blood.

Shall this our lofty scene be acted o'er,

In states unborn, and accents yet unknown?

Bru. How many times fhall Cæfar bleed in fport, That now on Pompey's bafis lies along,

No worthier than the dust?

Caf. So oft as that shall be,

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

Gaf 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.
Ser. 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;
Cæfar was mighty, royal, bold, and loving:
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I fear'd Cæfar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchfafe that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cæfar hath deserv'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, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be fatisfied; and by my honour,

Depart untouch'd.

Ser. 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 still
Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

SCENE III.

Enter Antony.

Welcome, Mark

Bru. But here comes Antony.

Antony.

Ant. O mighty Cæfar! 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, who else is rank,
If myself, there is no hour fo fit

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

Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich

With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard,

Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I fhall not find myfelf fo apt to die.

"No place will please me fo, no means of death,
"As here by Cæfar, and by you cut off,
"The choice and master spirits 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 present act,
You fee we doy 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 Cæfar.

For your part,

To you our fwords have leaden points, Mark Antony; 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 fake with you;
Next, Caius Caffius, do I take your hand;

Now, Decius Brutus, your's; now your's Metellus;
Your's, Cinna; and my valiant Casca, your's;
Tho' laft, not least in love, your's, 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.

That I did love thee, Cæfar, oh, 'tis true.

If then thy fpirit look upon us now,

Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,