And swim to yonder point?-Upon the word, Accoutre das I was, I plunged in, And bid him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews; throwing it aside, Aud stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Caesar cry'd help me, Cassius, or I sink! 1, as AEneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear; so from the waves of Tyber 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 does awe the world, Did lose its lustre; I did hear him groan: Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, Alas! it cry'd-Give me 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.
Bru. Another general shout!,
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar. Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow
Like a Colossus! and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men, at sometimes, 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 that Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours;
Write them together; yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meats does 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
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man? Oh! you and I have heard our fathers say
There was a Brutus, one that would have brook'd Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king.
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealouss What you would work me to, I have some aim How I have thought of this, and of these times, I shall recount hereafter: for this present, I would not, (so with love I might intreat you) Be any further mov'd. What you have said, I will consider; what you have to say, I will with patience hear; and find a time, Both meet to hear, and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this; Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under such hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
Cas. I am glad that my weak words
Have struck but thus much show of fire from Bru
Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. A
A goodly day! not to keep house, with such
Whose roof's as low as ours: see! boys, this gate Instructs you how t'adore the heav'ns: and bows
The morning's holy office. Gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants may get through, And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heav'n! We house i' th' rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do.
Guid. Hail IIeav'n!
Arv. Hail Heav'n!
Bel. Now for our mountain sport up to yon
Your legs are young. I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you, above, perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off:
And then revolve what tales I told you, Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war; That service is not service, so being done, But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus, Draws us a profit from all things we see; And often to our comfort, shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold, Than is the full wing'd eagle. Oh, this life Is nobler than attending for a check: Richer, than doing nothing for a bauble; Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk. Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine, Yet keeps his book uncross'd:-}
Guid. Out of your proof you speak; we, poor, untledg'd
Have never wing'd from view o' th' nest; nor know What air's front home. Haply this life is best, If quiet life is best: sweeter to you,
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age but unto us, it is A cell of ign'rance; travelling a-bed; A prison for a debtor that not dares To stride a limit.
Arv. What should we speak of,
When we are old as yon? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; We're beastly; subtle as the fox for
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat. Our valour is to chase what flies: our cage We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird, And sing our bondage.freely.
Bel. How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court, As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb, Is certain falling; or so slipp'ry, that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil of war; A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' th' name of fame and honour; which dies i' th search,
And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph,
As record of fair act; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve, by doing well: what's worse Must curt'sy at the censure.-Oh, boys, this story The world might read in me: my body's mark'd With Roman swords; and my report was once First with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me; And when a soldier was the theme, my name Was not far off: then was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night,
A storm, or robbery, call it what will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves And left me bare to weather.
Guid. Uncertain favour!
Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told you
But that two villains (whose false oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline 1 was confed'rate with the Romans: so
Follow'd my banishment; and, thes twenty years, This rock and these demesnes have been my world; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid More pious debts to Heaven, than in all
The fore-end of my time.- -But, up to the moun.
This is not hunters' language; he that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o' th' feast ; To him the other two shall minister,
And we will fear no poison, which attends
In place of greater state.
I'll meet you in the vallies.
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