away, giving existence, during their course, to the many striking events, which were the cause both of the greatness and the corruption of Rome in her maturity. She had risen from her ruins after the Gaul had burned her streets and temples; she had, by degrees, made herself mistress of all Italy; the three Punic wars had terminated in her favour, the victories of Hannibal, even to her gates, having been followed by successes on her part still more brilliant, and her African rival having at length been razed to the ground. From Europe and Africa she had carried her arms into Asia, and subdued kings, who, in her earlier years, had not heard even of her name. She had brought the riches and luxuries of the East into the homes of her citizens; while from Greece, also subdued, she had drawn science, literature, and the arts. The violence of her factions, the cruelties of domestic proscription, the rebellion of the slaves, the daring conspiracy of her patrician youth, were not able to stop the progress of her greatness; and Cæsar had recently carried her eagles from Gaul into Britain, divided and distant from the then known world. The battle of Pharsalia had been fought four years before the time which opens to us in the following scenes: Pompey was now dead; Cato had killed himself in Utica; and Cæsar had received into friendship most of those who had been opposed to him, including the chief of those who conspired against his life. He was now perpetual dictator; he disposed of all offices at his pleasure; and the liberties of Rome were saved to her only in empty forms. She was indeed too corrupt to be longer capable of any medium between entire anarchy, or a state of quiet subjection to predominant power. The people were appeased by festivals and shows; and triumphs were often celebrated for victories over the last open adherents to the family of Pompey.

Flavius and Marullus, two of the tribunes, who had been attached to the party of Pompey, are supposed, in their way through the streets, to encounter crowds of the people, who are in their holiday attire:

[Flavius.] Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home: Is this a holiday? What! know ye not

You ought not walk to-day without the signs
Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

[Citizen.] Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

[Flavius.] What mean'st by that? Mend me, thou saucy

[fellow'

[Citizen.] Yes, sir; I'm a cobbler.

[Flavius.] Then wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

[Citizen.] Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar, and rejoice in his triumph.

[Marullus.] Wherefore rejoice?

What conquests brings

What tributaries follow him to Rome, [he home?
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey? Many' a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls, and battlements,
And towers, your infants in your arms, and sat,
The livelong day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in his concave shores ?

And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone!

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plagues
That needs must light on this ingratitude.

In another part of the city we meet a procession to a festival in honour of the god Pan. Among the many who follow, we may distinguish Cæsar, Mark Antony, Brutus, and Cassius. A soothsayer, from the middle of the crowd, repeatedly utters the name of Cæsar; at the bidding of Cæsar, the procession stops, and Cæsar speaks:

[Cæsar.] Bid every noise be still :-peace, yet again : Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a voice, shriller than all the music,

R

Cry "Cæsar ;"-speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear.

[a pause.]

Still do I hear him: what is he that cries ?
Set him before me; let me see his face:

[a pause.]

Now, fellow, what say'st thou to me? [Soothsayer.] Beware the ides of March!

[Cæsar.] He is a dreamer: let us leave him; pass!

The procession moves on: Brutus and Cassius remain: [Cassius.] Will you go see the order of the course? [Brutus.] Not I.

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

[Brutus.] Cassius, be not deceiv'd,

Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the show of love to other men.

[Cassius.] It is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have not a mirror, that will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye
That you may 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.

[Brutus.] Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius ?

[Cassius.] Nay, be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :

If you know

That I do fawn on men, and after scandal them,

Or do profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Brutus.] What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Cæsar for their king.

[Cassius.] Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

[Brutus.] I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here?

What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught that tends to' the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other,
And I will look on death indifferently:
For let the gods so speed me, as I love

The name of honour more than I fear death.

[Cassius.] I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, 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; so were you:
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,
Cæsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink.”
I, —as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did, from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear,-so, from the waves of Tiber,
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 doth awe the world,
Did lose its lustre : I did hear him groan :
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bids the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
"Alas," it cried, "give 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.

[Brutus.] Another general shout:

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.

[Cassius.] 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 some time, 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 Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours i's as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them,—it is as heavy.

Now, in the name of all the gods at once,
Upon what meats doth 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 flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome,