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Hor. Armi'd, my lord.
Ham. From top to toe?
Hor. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham. Then saw you not his face?
Hor. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver ap.
Ham, What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor. A count'nance more in sorrow than in

Ham. Pale, or red ?
Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Hor. Most constantly.
Ham. I would I had been there!
Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like. Staid it long?
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell

a hundred. Ham. His beard was grisl'd?-noHør. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd. Ham. I'll watch to night; perchance 'twill walk

again. Hor. I warrant you, it will.

Ham. If it assumes my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, tho'hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. I pray you, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be ten'ble in your silence still: And whatsoever shall befal to night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue;

will requite your love: so fare you well. Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve

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Brutus and Cassius.

Cas. VV jil you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.
Ces. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Anthony;
Let me not hinder , Cassius, your desires ;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And shew of love as I was wont to have ;
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,
Be not deceived': If I have veild my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am
Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;
Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviour?
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd ,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;
Nor construe any farther my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shew of love to other men.
Cas. Then , Brutus, I have much mistook your

passion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus can you see your face?

Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection from some other thing.

Cas. 'Tis just.
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirror as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me ,

That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me? .. .


Cas. Tlorofore , good Brutus, be prepard to

I hear; And since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which yet you know not of. And be not jealous of me gentle Brutus : Were I a coinmon laugher, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protestor ; if you know, That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, And after scandal them; or if you know, That I profess myself in banqueting To all the rout; then hold me dangerous. Bru. What means this shouting; I do fear the

Chuse 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 general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' th other .
And I will look on death indifferently :
For let the gods so speed me; as I lore
The name of honour more than I fear death.

Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. W ell, 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 ; 30 were you; We both have fed as well; and we can both Endure th: winter's cold as well as he. For once upon a raw and gusty day The troubled Tyber chafing with his shores, Cæsar says tɔ me, Dar'st thou , Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry lood


And swim to yonder point?-Upon the word, Accoutre das I was, I plunged in, And bid him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roard, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews; throwing it aside, And stèmming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Cæsar cry'd help me, Cassius, or I sink! i 1, as AEneas, our great ancestor, Did from the dames of Troy upon his shonlder The old Anchises bear; so from the waves of Tyber 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 does awe the world, Did lase 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 cry'd-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 sometimes, 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 with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meats does 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 lood, 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? Oh! you and I have heard our fathers say 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; What you would work me to, 1 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 intreat you) Be any further mov'd. What you have said, I will consider ; what you have to say, I will with patience hear; and find a tine, Both moet 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 son of Rome Under such hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. .

Cas. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brus tus.


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