« AnteriorContinuar »
So well as by reflectior, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which yet you know noi of.
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oathis my love
To ev'ry new protestor ; if
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know,
That I profess myself in banquetting
To all the rout; then hold me dangerous.
Bru. What ineans this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Cæsar for their king.
Cas. Ay: do you fear it?
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 gen'ral good,
Set Honour in one eye, and Death i' th' other,
And I will look on Death indiff'rently:
For let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of Honour more than I fear Death.
Cus. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour
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 havc fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he
For once upon a raw and gusty dlay,
The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,
Cæsar says 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 lustv 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 mian
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,
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 same eye, whose hend does awe the world,
Did lose it's 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
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 sone times are masters of their fates ;
Tbe fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
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
fair a name :
Sour:d them, it doth become the mouth as well ;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
Britus will stait a spirit as soon as Cesar.
Now, in the uames of all the gods at once,
Upon what meats does this our Cæsar fced,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham’d;
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of roble bloods.
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?
There was a Brutus, one that would have brook'd
Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king.
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous:
would work me to, I have some aim:
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter : for this present,
I would not (so with love I might entreat you)
farther mov'd. What you have said,
I will consider; what you have to say,
I will with paiience hear; and find a time
Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this :
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a sou of Rome
Under such hard conditions as this tiin.
Is like to lay upon 14%
Cas. I am glad that my weak words
Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.
BELLARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARVIRAGUS. Bel. A GOODLY day! not to keep house, with such Whose roofs as low as ours: see! boys, this gate Instructs you how t adore the Heav'ns; and bows you To morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through, And keep their impious turbars on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou kair Heavut
We house i' th' rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.
Guid. Hail, Heav'n!
Arv. Hail, Heav'n !
Bel. Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond' hill,
Your legs are young. I'll tread these flats. Consider,
above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off;
And you may then revolve what tales I told you
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war;
That service is not service, so being done,
But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see ;
And often to our comfort shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold,
Than is the full wing'd eagle. Oh, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check :
Richer than doing nothing for a bauble;
Prouder than rustling in unpaid for silk.
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd :-no life to ours.
Guid. Out of your proof you speak; we, poor, unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' th' nest; nor know
What air's from home. Haply this life is best,
If quiet life is best; sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
age : but unto us, it is
A cell of ign'rance; travelling abed ;
A prison for a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.
Arv. What should we speak of,
When we are old as you? When we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December? how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
We're beastly; subtle as the fox for prey,
Like warlike the wolf, for what we ,
Our valour is to chase what flies : our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prison' bird,
And sing out bondage freely.
Bel. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court,
As hard to leave, as keep ; whose top to climb,
Is certain falling; or so slipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war;
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I'th' name of fame and honour ; which dies i’ th' search,
And bath as oft a sland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well ; what's worse,
Must curt'sy at the censure.-Oh, boys, this story
The world might read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman swords; and ny report was once
First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was l'as a tree,
Whose boughs did bénd with fruit. But in one night,
A storm, on robb’ry, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay my leaves ;
And left ine bare to weather.
Guid. Uncertain favour !
Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you
But that two villains (whose false oaths prevailid
Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline,
I was confed'rate with the Romans: so
Follow'd my banishment: and, these twenty years,
This rock and these demesnes bave been my world;
Where I have liv'd at honest freerlom, paid
More pious debts to Heav'n. than in all
The fore-end of my time-But, up to 1h' mountains !
This is not hunter's language; he that strikes
The ven’son first shall be the lord o' th' feast;
To him the other two shall minister,
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state.
I'll meet you in the vallies.