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wife of Brutus, has, prior to this period, ended her life by poison. An eloquent tribute from Octavius and Antony to the character of Brutus ends the play.

Act I.

Patriotism.
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' the 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.

Contempt of Cassius for Cæsar.
Cassius. 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,
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 bend doth awe the world,
Did lose its 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.

[Shouts.
Brutus. Another general shout !
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.
Cassius. 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, 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 them, 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: Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble 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 walks encompass'd but one man?

Cæsar's suspicions of Cassius. 'Would he were fatter :—but I fear him not : Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music: Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit, That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease, Whiles they behold a greater than themselves ; And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be fear’d, Than what I fear, for always I am Cæsar.

That could ock'd himsed smile

Act II.

Ambition clad in Humility.
But 't is a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder
Whereto the climber upward turns his face :
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend.

Conspiracy dreadful till executed.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream :
The genius, and the mortal instruments,
Are then in council : and the state of mari,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.

Conspiracy.
O conspiracy!
Shamest thou to shew thy dangerous brow by night
When evils are most free? O then, by day,
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none, conspiracy;
Hide it in smiles and affability;
For if thou path, thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention.

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Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :
Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men ;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Portents attend Royal Deaths.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen :
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

The Fear of Death. Cowards die many times before their deaths : . The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear :
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.

Envy.
My heart laments that virtue cannot live
Out of the teeth of emulation.*

Act III. Brutus's Address to the Citizens. BRUTUS. Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour ; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus's love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer,—Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men ? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him : but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honour for his valour ; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile,

* Malice.

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