Will bear no colour, for the thing he is, Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mifchie vous; And kill him in the fhell. Enter Lucius. Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, Sir: [Gives him the letter. (6) Is not to morrow, boy, the firft of March ?] I dare pronounce a palpable Blunder here, which none of the Editors have ever been aware of. Brutus enquires whether the first of March be come, and the Boy brings him word 'tis wasted 15 Days. Allowing Brutus to be a moft contemplative Man, and his Thoughts taken up with high Matters, yet I can never agree, that he fo little knew how Time went, as to be mistaken a whole Fortnight in the Reckoning. I make no Scruple to affert, the Poet wrote Ides. But how could Ides, may it not be objected, be corrupted into firft? What Similitude in the Traces of the Letters? This Difficulty may very easily be folv'd, by only supposing that the Word Ides in the Manuscript Copy happen'd to be wrote contractedly thus, j: The Players knew the Word well enough in the Contraction; but when the MSS came to the Prefs, the Compofitors were not fo well informed in it: They knew, that jít frequently food for firft; and blunderingly thought that js was meant to do fo too and thence was deriv'd the Corruption of the Text. But that the Poet wrote Ides, we have This in Confirmation. Brutus makes the Enquiry on the Dawn of the very Day, in which Cæfar was kill'd in the Capitol. Now 'tis very well known, that this was on the 15th Day, which is the Ides, of March. I ought to acknowledge, that my Friend Mr. Warburton likewise started this very Emendation, and communicated it to Me by Letter. Bru Bru. Look in the kalendar, and bring me word. Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air, [Exit. [Opens the letter, and reads. Brutus, thou fleep'ft; awake, and fee thy felf: Shall Rome, Brutus, thou feep'ft: awake. Such inftigations have been often dropt, Shall Rome thus must I piece it out, "Shall Rome ftand under one man's awe? what! Rome? "My ancestors did from the streets of Rome "The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a King. Speak, frike, redress, -am I entreated then To fpeak, and ftrike? O Rome! I make thee promise, If the redrefs will follow, thou receiv'ft Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! Enter Lucius Luc. Sir, March is wafted fourteen days. (7) [knocks within. Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate; fome body [Exit Lucius. knocks: Since Caffius firft did whet me against Cæfar, I have not flept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing, Enter Lucius. Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Caffius at the door, (7) Sir, March is wafted fifteen days.] The Editors are lightly mistaken: It was wasted but 14 Days; this was the Dawn of the 15th, when the Boŷ makes his Report. Who Luc. No, Sir, there are more with him. Bru. Do you know them? Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt about their ears, And half their faces buried in their Cloaks; That by no means I may difcover them By any mark of favour. Bru. Let them enter. They are the faction, O Confpiracy! [Exit Lucius Sham'st thou to fhew thy dang'rous brow by night, When Evils are most free? O then, by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough, To mask thy monftrous vifage? feek none, Confpiracy; Hide it in Smiles and Affability: For if thou path, thy native femblance on, Not Erebus itfelt were dim enough To hide thee from prevention. Enter Caffius, Cafca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius. Caf. I think, we are too bold upon your Reft; 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? [Afide. Caf. Yes, every man of them; and no man here, But honours you: and every one doth wish, You had but that opinion of yourself, Which every noble Roman bears of you. Bru. He is welcome hither. Caf. This, Decius Brutus. Bru. He is welcome too. Caf. This, Cafca; this, Cinna; And this, Metellus Cimber. Bru. They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpofe themselves Betwixt your eyes and night? Caf. Shall I entreat a word? [They whisper. Dec. Here lies the Eaft: doth not the day break here? VOL. VII. B Casca Cafca. No. Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey lines, That fret the Clouds, are meffengers of day. Caf. You shall confefs, that you are both deceiv'd: Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one. Bru. No, not an oath: if that the face of men, That this fhall be, or we will fall for it? Nor th' infuppreffive mettle of our spirits; If he doth break the fmallest particle Caf. But what of Cicero? fhall we found him? I think, I think, he will ftand very ftrong with us. Met. O let us have him, for his filver hairs And buy men's voices to commend our deeds : Bru. O, name him not: let us not break with him g For he will never follow any thing, That other men begin. Caf. Then leave him out. Cafca. Indeed, he is not fit. Dec. Shall no man elfe be touch'd, but only Cafar? Caf. Decius, well urg'd: I think, it is not meet, Mark Antony, fo well belov'd of Cefar Should out-live Cafar: we fhall find of him A threwd contriver. And you know, his means, Let Antony and Cafar fall together. Bru. Our courfe will feem too bloody, Caius Caffius, Let us be facrificers, but not butchers, Caius ; up |