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The ki'ng shall have my se'rvice; but my proayers/
For ev'er, and for e’ver, shall be yoʻurs.
Wol. Cro'mwell, I did not think to shed a te'ar/
In all my mi'series, but thou hast forc'ed me,
(Out of thy hoʻnest-truth) to pla'y the woman-
Let's dry our e’yes; and th'us far/ he'ar me, Cro'mwell,
And when I am forg'otten, (as I shall-be,)
And sleep in d'ull/ coʻld ma’rble (where no mention
O'f me must more be he’ard,) say, then, I' taught thee
Say, Wolsey, that once trode the waves of glor'y,
And sounded all the depth's and sho'als of hoʻnour,
Found the e-a-way (out of his wre'ck) to ris'e in;
(A sur'e and safe one, though thy moaster mis'sed it.)
Mark but my f'alls, and thaot/ which rui'ned me:
Cro'mwell, I cha'rge thee, fling away ambition;
By tha’t-sin/ fell the an^gels; how can ma`n-then
(†hough the image of bis Ma ker) hoʻpe to w'in-by-it ?
Love thys elf/ las't ; cherish those hea'rts/ that w'ait-thee ;
(Corruption wins not more than ho'nesty.)
Still in thy right ha'nd/ carry gentle pe’ace,
To silence e'nvious to'ngues. Be ju'st, and fe'ar not.
Let all the en'ds/ thou ai'm’st-at/ be thy Coun'try's,
Thy God's, and Trouth's; then/ if thou fall'est, (O Cro'mwell!)
Thou fallest a bl'essed ma'rtyr! Serve the King -
And pri'thee, lead me in
There take an in'ventory of all I ha've,
(To the last pe'nny, 'tis the Kiong's.) My rob'e,
And my in'tegrity to H'eaven, are all'
I dare no'w/ call my
oown. O Cro'mwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my* Go'd/ with half-the-zeal
I served my Kiừng, he would (not in minet a'ge)
Have left me na'ked/to mine e'nemies !
Crom. Goo'd Sir, have pa'tience.
Wol. So I hav'e. Farewe'll
The hopes of cour't! My hospes in He’aven/ now dw'ell.
* For the sake of due solemnity, "my,” before God, should be pronounced so as to rhyme with high.
† “ Mine.” In reading the Scriptures, we are at no loss about the pronunciation of this pronoun, as the dignity and solemnity of the composition invariably direct us to give the i its long sound, as in the substantive; but in Milton and Shakspeare, this pronunciation has an intolerable stiffness, and ought not to be used.
BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.
Cas. Will you go see the o‘rder of the coʻurse ?
Bru. Not I'.
Cas. I pr'ay-you d'o.
Bru. I am not gaʼmesome; I do lack some part
Of that quick spi'rit that is in A'ntony;
Let me not hinder, Ca'ssius, your desires;
I'll le'ave you.
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of la’te ;
I have not from your eyes that gʻentleness
And show of lo've/ as I was wont to h'ave,
You bear too stubborn and too stra'nge a hand/
Over your fr’iend/ that lo'ves you.
Be not decei'ved : I'f I have veiled
losok, I turn the trouble of my cou'ntenance M'erely upon myse'lf. Vexed I am Of late with pa'ssions of some d'ifference, (Conceptions only proper to myself; Which give some soil perhaps to my beh'aviour;) But/ let not/ therefore, my good friends be gr'ieved, (Among which number, Cassius, be yoou-one;) Nor construe
fa'rther my neglect, Than that
Bru'tus (with himself at w'ar) Forgets the shews of lo've/ to o'ther-men.
Čas. Then, Br’utus, I have much m'istook your pa'ssion ; By means where'of, this breast of mi'ne/ hath buried Thoʻughts of great value, woʻrthy cogit‘ations. Tell me, good Bru'tus, can you see your face?
Bru. No', Ca’ssius ; for the eye/ sees not its'elf,
But by refl'ection/ from some other-thing.
Cas. 'Tis ju'st.
And it is very much lame'nted, Br’utus,
That yoʻu/ have no such mir'ror/ as will tu’rn
Your hidden wo‘rthiness/ into your ey'e,
That you might see your sha'dow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect of Rosme,
(Except immortal Cæsar) speaking of Bru'tus,
And groaning underne'ath this age's y'oke,
Have wis'hed that noble Br'utus/ h’ad his ey'es.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That
would have me seek into my'self For th'at/ which is not in'-me?
Cas. Ther'efore, good Br’utus, be prepared to he'ar;
And, since you kno'w/ you cannot see yourself
So we'll as by refle'ction, I' (your glass)
Will modestly disco'ver/ to your self
Th'at of yourseolf/ which y'et/ you know not o'f.
And be not jealous of m'e, (gentle Br'utus :)
Were I a common laugher, or did use/
To st'ale/ with ordinary oaths/ my love/
To every new protes'tor; if you
That I do fa'wn on me'n, and hug them ha'rd,
And a'fter scandal-them; or, if you
That I profess myself in ba'nqueting
To all the ro'ut; th'en hold me da'ngerous.
Bru. What means this sho'uting? I do fear the people Choose C'æsar/ for their king.
Cas. A'y, do you fe'ar it?
Then must I think you would not ha've it s'o.
Bru. I would not, C'assius; yet I love him we'll.
But wherefore do
hold me here so lo'ng ?
What is it, that you would impar't to me ?
If it be aught toward the general-gʻood,
Set Hoʻnour in one ey'e, and Dea'th/ in the oʻther ;
And I will look on De'ath/ indifferently:
Fo'r/ let the gods so sp'eed me, as I love
The naîme of Hoʻnour/ mo're than I fear Death.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Br’utus,
As we'll as I do kn'ow your oʻutward fa'vour.
Well, ho'nour is the s'ubject of my story.
I cannot tell what yoou and oʻther men
Think of this l'ife; b’ut/ for my single s'elf,
I had as lief no't be, as li've to be
In awe of such a thiong as I my'self.
I was born free as Cæ'sar ; so were yoʻu ;
We both have fe'd as w'ell; and we can both
Endure the winter's co'ld/ as well as hoe.
For/ once upon a raw and gusty d'ay,
(The troubled Tyber chafing with his sh'ores,)
Cæsar sa'id to me, Darest thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with m'e/ into this angry flo'od,
Pronounced with a mixture of dignity and sarcasm.
And swi'm/ to yonder p'oint?— Upon the word,
(Accoutred as I w'as) I plunged i’n,
And bade him follow ; so ind’eed he did.
The torrent roa'red, and we did b'uffet it
With lusty si'news; throwing it a'side,
And ste'mming it/ with he'arts of coʻntroversy.
B’ut, er'e we could arrive the point prop'osed,
Cæsar cried, He'lp me, Ca'ssius, or I si'nk.
Then, as Æn'eas (our great a'ncestor)
Did from the flames of Tr'oy/ upon his shou'lder
The old Anchises b'ear; so from the wa'ves of Tyber
Did I' the ti-red-Cæsar: and this man
Is now become a good; and Ca’ssius/ is
A wretched cre'ature, and must bend his b'ody,
If Cæsar c'arelessly/ but no'd on-him.
He had a f'ever/ when he was in Spa'in,
And/ when the fi't was o'n-him, I did m'ark
How he did sha'ke. 'Tis tru'e, this good di’d-sha'ke;
His coward l'ips/ did from their colour fl'y,
And that same e'ye (whose bend doth a'we the w’orld,)
Did loʻse its lus'tre; I did hear him gro'an :
Ay and that tongue of hi's, that bade the R'omans
Ma'rk him, and write his spee'ches in their boʻoks,
Ala's! it cr'ied - Give me some drink, Tit'inius.
As a sick gi'rl! Ye gʻods, it doth ama'ze me,
A man of such a feeble te'mper/ shou'ld/
So get the sta'rt of the majestic world,
And bear the pa'lm alo'ne!
Bru. Ano'ther general sh'out !
I do believe, that these applau'ses/ are
For some n^ew-honours that are h'eaped) on Cæsar.
Cas. Why ma'n, he doth bestride the narrow world
L'ike a Colo‘ssus/; and we petty m'en
Walk under his huge le'gs, and
To find ourselves dishonourable gra'ves.
Men at sometime/ are ma'sters of their f'ate:
The fa'ult (dear Bru'tus) is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Br’utus—and Cæ'sar—what should be in-that-Cæsar ?
Why should thoat-name be sounded, more than yo'ur's ?
Write them together ; yours is as fa'ir a n'ame:
Sou'nd them, it doth become the mo'uth as w'ell;
We'igh them, it is as he’avy; conjure with them,
Brutus/ will start a spirit/ as soon as C'æsar.
N'ow, in the name of all the gods at on'ce,
Upon what meats/ doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is gr'own so gre'at ? A'ge, thou art sha'med;
R'ome, thou hast lost thy breed of noble bl’oods.
When could they s'ay, till no'w, that talked of Ro'me,
That her wide walls encompassed but oone-man?
and I have heard our fathers sa'y,
There was a Brutus o'nce that would have brooked
A whip-galled slave to keep his state in Rome
As eas'ily as a king.
I am nothing jea'lous ; What
would wo'rk me to', I have some a'im:
How I have thought of th'is, and of these ti'mes,
I shall recount hereafter : for this present,
I would not (80 with love I might intr'eat-you)
Be any further-moved. What you have s'aid,
I will consi'der : what you ha've to s'ay,
I will/ with pʼatience he'ar; and find a ti'me
Both me'et to he’ar, and a'nswer such high thi'ngs.
'Till th'en (my noble fr'iend) chew upon thi's:
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a so'n of Ro'me,
Under such hard condi'tions/ as this time
Is l'ike to la'y upon us.
BRUTUS SOLILOQUY - WHEREIN HE CONTEM-
PLATES CÆSAR'S DESTRUCTION.
Ir m'ust be by his death : and, for my' part,
I know no per‘sonal cause/ to sp'urn at him;
But, for the general. He would be crowned-
How that might change his na'ture, there's' the question.
It is the bright da'y/ that brings the adder foʻrth ;
And th’at/ craves wary walking : croșwn him !-that!
And the’n, I gra'nt, we put a sti'ng in him,
Tha't/ at his w'ill
, he may do dan ger with.
The abus'e of great'ness is, when it disjoins
Remo'rse from po'wer : and, to speak truth of Cæ'sar,