OBSERVATIONS.

F this tragedy many particular paffages deferve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Caffius, is universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agitated in perufing it, and think it fomewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of Shakespeare's plays; his adherence to the real ftory, and to Roman manners, seems to have impeded the natural vigour of his genius. JOHNSON.

The poet fas Voltaire has done fince) confounds the characters of Marcus and Decimus. Decimus Brutus was the most cherished by Cafar of all his friends, while Marcus kept aloof, and declined fo large a fhare of his favours and honours as the other had conftantly accepted. Velleius Paterculus, fpeaking of Decimus Brutus, fays-ab iis quos miferat Antonius, jugulatus eft, justif fimafque optimè de fe merito, C. Cæfari panas dedit, cujus cum primus omnium amicorum fuiffet, interfector fuit, et fortunæ ex qua fructum tulerat, invidiam in auctorem relegabat, confebatque æquum quæ acceperat a Cæfare retinere, Cæfarem qui illa dederat periiffe. Lib. ii. c. 64.

Jungitur his Decimus notiffimus inter amicos
Cæfaris, ingratus, cui trans-Alpina fuiffet
Gallia Cæfareo nuper commiffa favore.
Non illum conjuncta fides, non nomen amici
Deterrere potest.

Ante alios Decimus, cui fallere, nomen amici
Præcipue dederat, ductorem fæpe morantem
Incitat.-Supplem. Lucani.

STEEVENS.

POPILIUS LENA,}

Senators.

MARULLUS,} Tribunes, and Enemies to Gafar.
MESSALA, } Friends to Brutus and Cassius.

TITINIUS,

ARTEMIDORUS, a Sophist of Cnidos.
-A Soothsayer.
Young CATO.

CINNA, a Poet.
Another Poet.

LUCILIUS,

SCENE, for the three firft A&s, at Rome : afterwards at an Ile near Mutina; at Sardis; and Philippi.

ACT I SCENE I.

A Street in Rome. Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners.

Flavius.

[ENCE; home, you idle creatures, get you home. HEIs this a holiday? What, know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the fign

Of your profeffion ?-Speak, what trade art thou?
Car. Why, fir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What doft thou with thy beft apparel on?
-You, fir; what trade are you

Cob. Truly, fir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would fay, a cobler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? Anfwer me directly. Cob. A trade, fir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe confcience: which is indeed, fir, a mender of bad foals. Flav. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

Cob. Nay, I beseech you, fir, be not out with me : Yet, if you be out, fir, I can mend you.

Mar. What meaneft thou by that? Mend me, thou faucy fellow?

Cob. Why, fir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

Cob. Truly, fir, all that I live by, is the awl: I meddle with no tradefman's matters, nor woman's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, fir, a furgeon to old fhoes; when they are in great danger, I re-cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather, have gone upon my handy-work.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why doft thou lead these men about the streets?

Cob. Truly, fir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, fir, we make holiday, to fee Cæfar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conqueft brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you ftones, you worse than fenfeless things!
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have fate
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To fee great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
And when you faw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks,
To hear the replication of your founds
Made in his concave fhores ?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out an holiday?
And do you now ftrew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone;

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague
That needs muft light on this ingratitude.

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen ; and, for this fault, Affemble all the poor men of your fort ;

Draw them to Tyber's banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream

Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exe. Commoners.
See, whe'r their bafeft metal be not mov'd,
They vanish tongue-ty'd in their guiltinefs.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol ;
This way will I: Difrobe the images,

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.[1]
Mar. May we do fo?

You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter; let no images

Be hung with Cæfar's trophies. I'll about,

[1] Ceremonies, for religious ornaments. Thus afterwards he explains. them by 'Cæfar's trophies; i.e. fuch as he had dedicated to the Gods. WAR.

And drive away the vulgar from the ftreets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæfar's wing,
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who elfe would. foar above the view of man,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt feverally.

SCENE II.

The fame. Enter CESAR, ANTONY, for the Course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, a Soothsayer, &c.

Caf. Calphurnia,

Cafca. Peace, ho! Cæfar fpeaks.

Caf. Calphurnia,—

Calph. Here, my lord.

Caf. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course.

Ant. Cæfar, my lord!

-Antonius!

Caf. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia: for our elders fay, The barren, touched in this holy chafe, Shake off their fteril curse.

Ant. I fhall remember:

When Cæfar fays, Do this, it is perform❜d.
Caf. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæfar!

Caf. Ha! Who calls?

Cafca. Bid every noise be ftill :-Peace yet again. Caf. Who is it in the prefs, that calls on me? I heard a tongue, fhriller than all the mufic, Cry, Cæfar: Speak; Cæfar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caf. What man is that?

Bru. A foothfayer, bids you beware the ides of March.
Caf. Set him before me; let me fee his face.
Cafca. Fellow, come from the throng. Look upon Cæfar.
Caf. What fay'ft thou to me now? Speak once again.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caf. He is a dreamer; let us leave him :-pass.
[Sennet.[2] Exeunt CESAR and Train.
Caf. Will you go fee the order of the course ?

[2] Sennet appears to be a particular tune or mode of martial music. JOH