nuation of the play after the death of Cæsar; supposing that great event would have been more powerful than any other for the catastrophe: but it is hardly possible to read to the end, and wish any thing altered; unless, perhaps, that Cæsar's character had been rendered more prominent in those few scenes where he is introduced. This drama is not, however, designed to represent the life, but solely the death, of Julius Cæsar. The poet has not attempted to show in action, even by one important incident, how this conqueror of the world lived, but merely how he died.

In so short a composition as a play some characters must necessarily be compressed; and, in the original editions of this work, Cicero's has been more than any other diminished. That celebrated orator is there placed amongst the dramatis personæ, and has scarcely been given a word to say.

The following account from Upton will be of use to the reader:

"The real length of time in Julius Cæsar' is as follows: About the middle of February, A. U. C. 709, a frantic festival, sacred to Pan, was held in honour of Cæsar, when the royal crown was offered him by Marc Antony. On the 15th of March, in the same year, he was slain. A. U. C. 711, Brutus and Cas sius were defeated near Philippi."

SCENE-For the three first Acts, at Rome; afterwards at an Isle near Mutina, at Sardis, and Philippi.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

A Street in Rome,

Enter CASCA, D. BRUTUS, and certain PLEBEIANS.

MOB, huzza.

Casca, Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you
home:

Is this a holiday? what! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day, without the sign
Of your profession? speak, what trade art thou?
1 Pleb. Why, sir, a carpenter.

Casca. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, sir,- -What trade are you?

2 Pleb. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobler.

Casca. But what trade art thou? answer me, directly. 2 Pleb. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, a mender of bad soles.

Casca. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

yet

2 Pleb. Nay, I beseech you, sir,be not out with me: if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

Casca. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow?

2 Pleb. Why, sir, cobble you.

Casca. Thou art a cobler, art thou?

2 Pleb. Truly, sir, all that I live by is the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters; but withal I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather, have gone upon my handy work.

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

2 Pleb. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph, Casca. Wherefore rejoice?- -what conquests brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

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,
To tow'rs and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat,
The live long 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 an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath his banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in his concave shore ?

And do you now put on your best attire,

And do you now cull out an 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 plague,
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Dec. B. Go, go, good countrymen.

[Exeunt PLEBeians, Go you down that way, towards the capitol, This way will I; disrobe the images,

If

you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

These growing feathers, pluck'd from Cæsar's wing, Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men,

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

[Exeunt severally.

Enter CESAR, ANTONY for the Course, CALPHURNIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, a SOOTHSAYER, TREBONIUS, &c.

Cæs. Calphurnia

Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

Caes. Calphurnia

Calp. Here, my lord.

Cas. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course

Ant. Cæsar, my lord.

-Antonius

Caes. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia; for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse.

Ant. I shall remember.

When Cæsar says, "Do this," it is perform❜d.
Cas. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar!

Cas. Ha! who calls?

Casca. Bid every noise be still; peace yet again.