Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Now be a freeman; and, with this good sword,
That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom.
Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the hilts;
And, when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the sword.-Cæsar, thou art reveng'd,
Even with the sword that kill'd thee. [Dies.
Pin. So, I am free; yet would not so have been,
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius!
Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
Where never Roman shall take note of him.

Re-enter Titinius with Messala.

The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
It is impossible, that ever Rome
Should breed thy fellow.-Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man, than you shall see me pay.-
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.-
Come, therefore, and to Thassos send his body;
His funeral shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us.-Lucilius, come;-
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.-
[Ex. Labeo, and Flavius, set our battles on:-
'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight. [Exeunt.

Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,
As Cassius' legions are by Antony.

Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
Mes. Where did you leave him?
Tit.

All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

Mes. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground?
Tit. He lies not like the living. O my heart!
Mes. Is not that he?
Tit.
No, this was he, Messala,
But Cassius is no more.-O setting sun!
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night,
So in his red blood Cassius' day in. set;
The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone;
Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are

done!

Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

[blocks in formation]

[Charges the enemy.

Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus. [Exit, charging the enemy. Cato is overpowered, and falls.

Luc. O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius; deed. And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's son. 1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest. Luc.

O hateful error, melancholy's child!

Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men,

Only I yield to die:

The things that are not? O error, soon conceiv'd,There is so much that thou wilt kill me straght; Thou never com'st unto a happy birth,

But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee.

Tit. What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus?
Mes. Seek him, Titinius: whilst I go to meet

The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it;
For piercing steel, and darts envenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus,
As tidings of this sight.

Tit.

Hie you, Messala,

And I will seek for Pindarus the while. (Ex. Mes.
Why dist thou send me forth, brave Cassius?
Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they
Put on my brows this wreath of victory,

And bid me give't thee? Didst thou not hear their
shouts ?

Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing.
But hold thee, take this garland on thy brow;
Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I'
Will do his bidding.-Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.-
By your leave, gods:-This is a Roman's part:
Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart.

[Dies.

Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Brutus, young
Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius."
Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Mes. Lo, yonder; and Titinius mourning it.
Bru. Titinius' face is upward.
He is slain.

Cato.
Bru. O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.
[Low alarums.
Brave Titinius!

Cato.
Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius!
Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as these?-
(1) Whether.

[Offering money.

Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
1 Sold. We must not.-A noble prisoner!
2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.
1 Sold. I'll tell the news.-Here comes the gen-
eral:-

[blocks in formation]

Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light; but, my lord, He came not back; he is or ta'en, or slain.

Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: Slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.-
[Whispering.

Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.
Bru. Peace then, no words.
Cli.
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius!

I'll rather kill myself. [Whispers him.

Dar.

Cli. O, Dardanius! Dar. O, Clitus!

I do such a deed?

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dar. To kill him, Clitus: Look, he meditates,
Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius: list a word.
Vol. What says my lord?
Bru.

Why, this, Volumnius;
The ghost of Cæsar hath appear'd to me
Two several times by night at Sardis, once;
And, this last night, here in Philippi' fields.
I know my hour is come.

Vol.

Not so, my lord.

Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit: It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us.

Good Volumnius,

Thou know'st, that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Alarum still.
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewell to you;-and you;-and you,
Volumnius.-

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too, Strato.-Countrymen,
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,
I found no inan, but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:

Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
[Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. Bru.

Hence; I will follow thee. [Exeunt Clitus, Dardaníus, and Volumnius. I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: Thou art a fellow of a good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well, my lord.

[blocks in formation]

Oct. What man is that?

Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy master?

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala;
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.
Luc. So Brutus should be found.-I thank thee,
Brutus,

That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saving true.
Oct. All that serv'd Brutus' I will entertain' them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer2 me to you.
Oct. Do so, Messala.

Mes.
How died my master, Strato?
Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it.
Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest service to my master.

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rights of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.-
So, call the field to rest: and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

[Exeunt.

Of this tragedy many particular passages deserve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Cassius is universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of Shakspeare's plays: his adherence to the real story, and to the Roman manners, seems to have impeded the natural vigour of

(1) Receive into my service. (2) Recommend. This genius.

JOHNSON.

[blocks in formation]

NAY, but this dotage of our general's,
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges' all temper;
And is become the bellows, and the fan,

To cool a gipsy's lust. Look, where they come ! Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with their trains; Eunuchs fanning her.

Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how much.
Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be

reckon'd.

Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

Enter an Attendant.

Att. News, my good lord, from Rome. Ant. Grates me:-The sum.Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony: Fulvia, perchance, is angry; Or, who knows

If the scarce-bearded Cæsar have not sent
His powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this;
Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that ;
Perform't, or else we damn thee.

Ant.

How, my love! Cleo. Perchance,-nay, and most like, You must not stay here longer, your dismission Is come from Cæsar; therefore, hear it, Antony.Where's Fulvia's process? Cæsar's, I would say ?

Both ?

Call in the messengers.-As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame,
When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.-The messen-

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it :-Speak not to us.

[Exeunt Ant. and Cleo. with their train.
Dem. Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight?
Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too short of that great property
Which still should go with Antony.

Dem.

I'm full sorry,
That he approves the common liar,' who
Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!

[Exeunt.

Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.-Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.

Iras. But how, but how? give me particulars.
Sooth. I have said.

Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it?

Iras. Not in my husband's nose.

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend!-Alexas,-come, his fortune, his fortune.-O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beSCENE II.-The same. Another room. Enter seech thee! And let her die too, and give him a Charmian, Iras, Alexas, and a Soothsayer. Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must change his horns with garlands!

Alex. Soothsayer.
Sooth. Your will?

Char. Is this the man?-Is't you, sir, that know things?

Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy, A little I can read.

[blocks in formation]

worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, beseech thee!

I

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded; There fore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

Char. Amen.

Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would inake themselves whores, but they'd do't.

Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.
Char.

Not he, the queen.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Eno.

Char. He means, in flesh.

Cleo.

Char. No, madam.

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old.
Char. Wrinkles forbid !

Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive.
Char. Hush!

Sooth. You shall be more beloving, than beloved.
Char. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.
Alex. Nay, hear him.

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! bet! me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.

Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.
Char. O excellent! I love long life better than figs.
Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer former
fortune

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no names: Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.
Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy
to your wishes.

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.
Alex. We'll know all our fortunes.

Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be-drunk to bed.

Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

[blocks in formation]

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sud

den

A Roman thought hath struck him.-Enobarbus,-
Eno. Madam.

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's

Alexas?

Alex. Here, madam, at your service. My lord
approaches.

Enter Antony, with a Messenger and Attendants.
Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us.

[Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Alexas, Iras,
Charmian, Soothsayer, and Attendants.
Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.
Ant. Against my brother Lucius?
Mess. Ay:

But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, joining their force 'gainst
Casar;

Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
Upon the first encounter, drave them.
Ant.

[blocks in formation]

His conquering banner shook, from Syria
To Lydia, and to Ionia;
Whilst-

Ant.
Mess.

Antony, thou would'st say,

O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome:
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
With such full license, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick winds' lie still; and our ills told us,
Is as our earing. Fare thee well a while.

Mess. At your noble pleasure.

[Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon.-Is there such a one?

2 Att. He stays' upon your will. Ant.

Let him appear.

These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,"

Enter another Messenger.

Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you?
2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant.

Where died she?

Eno. Fulvia ?
Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat :-and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this

sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here, cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the queen, And get her love to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands The empire of the sea: our slippery people Forbear me.-(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, [Frit Messenger. Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it: Pompey the great, and all his dignities, What our contempts do often hurl from us, Upon his son; who high in name and power, We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up By revolution lowering, does become For the main soldier: whose quality going on, The sides o'the world may danger: Much is breeding,

2 Mess. In Sicyon :
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives a letter.
Ant.

The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!
Enter Enobarbus.

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
To such whose place under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.
Eno. I shall do't.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo. Where is he?
Char.

I did not see him since. Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does:

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing; I did not send you;-If you find him sad, though, between them and a great cause, they Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return. but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love; We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, sir, you had then left unscen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your travel. Ant. Fulvia is dead.

Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead.

(1) In some editions minds.

(2) Tilling, ploughing; prepares us to produce

good seed.

[Exit Alex. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.
Cleo.
What should I do, I do not?
Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in
nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose
him.

Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear;
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Enter Antony.

[blocks in formation]
« VorigeDoorgaan »