In at his window; set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius, there?

Cin. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

[Exit CINNA.

Come, Casca, you and I will yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
Is ours already; and the man entire,

Upon the next encounter, yields him ours.

Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts; And that which would appear offence in us,

His countenance, like richest alchemy,

Will change to virtue, and to worthiness.

Cas. Him and his worth, and our great need of him,

You have right well conceited. Let us go,
For it is after midnight; and, ere day,

We will awake him, and be sure of him.



SCENE I. The same. Brutus's Orchard.1


Bru. What, Lucius! ho!

I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day.-Lucius, I say!-
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.-
When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say.

What, Lucius!

1 Orchard and garden appear to have been synonymous with our



Luc. Called you, my lord?

Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius, When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc. I will, my lord.


Bru. It must be by his death; and for my part,

I know no personal cause to spurn at him,

But for the general. He would be crowned ;

How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?-That ;-
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse1 from power. And, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections swayed
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,2
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. So Cæsar may;

Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,

Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,

Would run to these, and these extremities;

And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,

Which, hatched, would, as his kind,3 grow mischievous. And kill him in the shell.

Re-enter LUCIUS.

Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found
This paper, thus sealed up; and I am sure
It did not lie there when I went to bed.

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Bru. Get you to bed again; it is not day.
Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March ?I
Luc. I know not, sir.

Bru. Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
Luc. I will, sir.

Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light, that I may read by them.


[Opens the letter, and reads.

Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself.
Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress!
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake,

Such instigations have been often dropped

Where I have took them up.

Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out;

Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What!


My ancestors did from the streets of Rome

The Tarquin drive, when he was called a king.

Speak, strike, redress!-Am I entreated

To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee promise, If the redress will follow, thou receivest

Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

Re-enter LuCIUS.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.2

[Knock within.

Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks.


Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,

I have not slept.

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,

1 The old copy erroneously reads, "the first of March." The correction was made by Theobald; as was the following.

2 Here again the old copy reads, fifteen. This was only the dawn of the fifteenth when the boy makes his report.

Are then in council; and the state of man,1
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.

Re-enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you.


Is he alone?

Luc. No, sir; there are more with him.


Do you know them?

Luc. No, sir; their hats are plucked about their ears,

And half their faces buried in their cloaks,

That by no means I may discover them

By any mark of favor.2


Let them enter.


They are the faction. O conspiracy!

Sham'st thou to show 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.


Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest; Good morrow, Brutus. Do we trouble you? Bru. I have been up this hour; awake, all night. Know I these men that come along with you? Cas. Yes, every man of them; and no man here, But honors you; and every one doth wish, You had but that opinion of yourself,

1 The old copy reads:

"Are then in council, and the state of a man," &c.

2 See Act i. Sc. 3.

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They are all welcome.

[They whisper.

What watchful cares do interpose themselves

Betwixt your eyes and night?

Cas. Shall I entreat a word?

Dec. Here lies the east. Doth not the day break


Casca. No.

Cin. O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines, That fret the clouds, are messengers of day.

Casca. You shall confess that you are both deceived.
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises;
Which is a great way growing on the south,
Weighing the youthful season of the year.

Some two months hence, up higher toward the north
He first presents his fire; and the high east
Stands as the Capitol, directly here.

Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one.
Cas. And let us swear our resolution.

Bru. No, not an oath. If not the face1 of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,—
If these be motives weak, break 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, bear fire enough

To kindle cowards, and to steel with valor
The melting spirits of women; then, countrymen,

1 Johnson thus explains this passage:-"The face of men " is the "countenance, the regard, the esteem of the public;" in other terms, honor and reputation; or the face of men may mean "the dejected look of the people." Mason thought we should read, "the faith of men."

2 Steevens thinks there may be an allusion here to the custom of decimation, i. e. the selection by lot of every tenth soldier, in a general mutiny, for punishment.

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