Brut. 'Tis good. Go to the Gate, some body knocks:

[Exit Lucius.]

Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,

I have not slept.

Betweene the acting of a dreadfull thing,
And the first motion, all the Interim is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dreame:
The Genius, and the mortall Instruments
Are then in councell; and the state of a man,
Like to a little Kingdome, suffers then
The nature of an Insurrection.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your Brother Cassius at the Doore,

Who doth desire to see you.

Brut. Is he alone?

Luc. No, Sir, there are moe with him.

Brut. Doe you know them?

70

80

Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt about their Eares,

And halfe their Faces buried in their Cloakes,

That by no meanes I may discover them,

By any marke of favour.1

Brut. Let 'em enter:

They are the Faction.

O Conspiracie,

1 countenance

[Exit Lucius.]

89

Sham'st thou to shew thy dang'rous Brow by Night,
When evills are most free? O then, by day
Where wilt thou finde a Caverne darke enough,
To maske thy monstrous Visage? Seek none Conspiracie,

Hide it in Smiles, and Affabilitie:

For if thou path thy native semblance on,

Not Erebus it selfe were dimme enough,
To hide thee from prevention.

75. of a man: of man-2-4F.

Enter the Conspirators, Cassius, Caska, Decius,
Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

Cass. I thinke we are too bold upon your Rest: 100 Good morrow Brutus, doe we trouble you?

Brut. I have beene up this howre, awake all Night:
Know I these men, that come along with you?
Cass. Yes, every man of them; and no man here
But honors you: and every one doth wish,
You had but that opinion of your selfe,

Which every Noble Roman beares of you.
This is Trebonius.

Brut. He is welcome hither.

Cass. This, Decius Brutus.

Brut. He is welcome too.

Cass. This, Caska; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus

Cymber.

Brut. They are all welcome.

What watchfull Cares doe interpose themselves

Betwixt your Eyes, and Night?

Cass. Shall I entreat a word?

They whisper.

Decius. Here lyes the East: doth not the Day breake heere?

Cask. No.

120

Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey Lines, That fret the Clouds, are Messengers of Day.

Cask. You shall confesse, that you are both deceiv'd: Heere, as I point my Sword, the Sunne arises, Which is a great way growing on the South, Weighing the youthfull Season of the yeare.

Some two moneths hence, up higher toward the North He first presents his fire, and the high East

112-13. verse-2F.

118-19. verse-2F.

Stands as the Capitoll, directly heere.

Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one. 130 Cas. And let us sweare our Resolution.

Brut. No, not an Oath: if not the Face of men, The sufferance of our Soules, the times Abuse; If these be Motives weake, breake off betimes, And every man hence, to his idle bed: So let high-sighted-Tyranny range on, Till each man drop by Lottery. But if these (As I am sure they do) beare fire enough To kindle Cowards, and to steele with valour The melting Spirits of women. Then Countrymen, 140 What neede we any spurre, but our owne cause, To pricke us to redresse? What other Bond,

1 insidious

Then secret Romans, that have spoke the word,
And will not palter? And what other Oath,
Then Honesty to Honesty ingag'd,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it.
Sweare Priests and Cowards, and men Cautelous1
Old feeble Carrions, and such suffering Soules
That welcome wrongs: Unto bad causes, sweare
Such Creatures as men doubt; but do not staine
The even vertue of our Enterprize,
Nor th'insuppressive Mettle of our Spirits,
To thinke, that or our Cause, or our Performance
Did neede an Oath. When every drop of blood
That every Roman beares, and Nobly beares
Is guilty of a severall Bastardie,

If he do breake the smallest Particle

Of any promise that hath past from him.

Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?

I thinke he will stand very strong with us.

Cask. Let us not leave him out.

Cyn. No, by no meanes.

150

160

Metel. O let us have him, for his Silver haires
Will purchase us a good opinion:

And buy mens voyces, to commend our deeds:
It shall be sayd, his judgement rul'd our hands,
Our youths, and wildenesse, shall no whit appeare,
But all be buried in his Gravity.

Bru. O name him not; let us not breake with him, For he will never follow any thing

That other men begin.

Cas. Then leave him out.

Cask. Indeed, he is not fit.

170

Decius. Shall no man else be toucht, but onely Casar? Cas. Decius well urg'd: I thinke it is not meet, Marke Antony, so well belov'd of Cæsar, Should out-live Casar, we shall finde of him A shrew'd Contriver. And you know, his meanes If he improve them, may well stretch so farre As to annoy us all: which to prevent,

Let Antony and Cæsar fall together.

180

Bru. Our course will seeme too bloody, Caius Cassius,
To cut the Head off, and then hacke the Limbes:
Like Wrath in death, and Envy afterwards:
For Antony, is but a Limbe of Cæsar.

Let's be Sacrificers, but not Butchers Caius:
We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar,
And in the Spirit of men, there is no blood:
O that we then could come by Cæsars Spirit,
And not dismember Cæsar! But (alas)
Cæsar must bleed for it. And gentle Friends,
Let's kill him Boldly, but not Wrathfully:
Let's carve him, as a Dish fit for the Gods,
Not hew him as a Carkasse fit for Hounds:
And let our Hearts, as subtle Masters do,
Stirre up their Servants to an acte of Rage,

190

This shall make

And after seeme to chide 'em.
Our purpose Necessary, and not Envious.
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.
And for Marke Antony, thinke not of him:
For he can do no more then Casars Arme,
When Casars head is off.

Cas. Yet I feare him,

For in the ingrafted love he beares to Cæsar.
Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not thinke of him:
If he love Casar, all that he can do

200

210

Is to himselfe; take thought, and dye for Cæsar,
And that were much he should: for he is given
To sports, to wildenesse, and much company.
Treb. There is no feare in him; let him not dye,
For he will live, and laugh at this heereafter.

Bru. Peace, count the Clocke.

Clocke strikes.

Cas. The Clocke hath stricken three.

Treb. 'Tis time to part.

Cass. But it is doubtfull yet,

Whether Casar will come forth to day, or no:
For he is Superstitious growne of late,
Quite from the maine Opinion he held once,
Of Fantasie, of Dreames, and Ceremonies:
It may be, these apparant Prodigies,
The unaccustom'd Terror of this night,
And the perswasion of his Augurers,
May hold him from the Capitoll to day.

Decius. Never feare that: If he be so resolv'd,
I can ore-sway him: For he loves to heare,
That Unicornes may be betray'd with Trees,
And Beares with Glasses, Elephants with Holes,
Lyons with Toyles, and men with Flatterers.

220

230