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bune talks fast. It is evident that no augmentation of the water will ever make the lowest stream touch the highest shores. In the do kiss we have a common archaism, the retention of the auxiliary, now come to be regarded, when it is not emphatic, as a pleonasm enfeebling the expression, and consequently denied alike to the writer of prose and to the writer of verse. It is thus in even a worse predicament than the separate pronunciation of the final ed in the preterite indicative or past participle passive. It was only the first fervour of an acquaintance with and admiration of our old literature that could have led Keats to mar the fine poetry of many of his pieces by a recurrence to these extinct forms. But in the age of Shakespeare they were both, though beginning to be abandoned, still part and parcel of the living language, and there is therefore no affectation in his frequent use of them. Instances both of the unemphatic do and of the distinct syllabication of the final ed are numerous in the present Play. The modern forms probably were as yet completely established only in the spoken language, which commonly goes before that which is written and read in such economical innovations.-For the modern stage direction Exeunt Citizens, the original text has here Exeunt all the Commoners.

16. See whe'r their basest metal.- Whe'r is whether. The contraction is common both in Shakespeare and in other writers of his age. Thus we have in his 59th Sonnet:

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“ Whether we are mended, or whe'r better they,
Or whether revolution be the same."

The er may be supposed to have been pronounced as the er is in her. In the old copies the word, when thus contracted, is usually printed exactly as the adverb of place always is, where. But if it were to be here spelled whether at full length, and pronounced as a dissyllable, we should

have no more of prosodical irregularity than we have in many other lines. And it is occasionally in similar circumstances so presented in the old copies.

16. Deckt with ceremonies.-To deck (the same with the Latin teg-ere and the German deck-en) signifies properly no more than to cover. Hence the deck of a ship. Thatch (the German Dach) is another formation from the same root. To deck, therefore, has no connexion with to decorate, which is of the same stock with decent (from the Latin decus, or decor, and decet). The supposition that there was a connexion, however, has probably helped to acquire for deck its common acceptation, which now always involves the notion of decoration or adornment. And that was also its established sense when Shakespeare wrote. By ceremonies must here be meant what are afterwards in 18 called "Cæsar's trophies," and are described in 95 as "scarfs " which were hung on Cæsar's images. No other instance of this use of the word, however, is produced by the commentators; nor is such a sense of it given either by Johnson (though himself an editor of Shakespeare) or by Webster. The Latin ceremonia is of unknown or disputed origin, but its only meaning is a religious rite. In our common English the meaning of ceremony has been extended so as to include also forms of civility and outward forms of state. We have it in that sense in 27. And we shall find lower down that Shakespeare uses it in still another sense, which is peculiar to himself, or which has now at least gone out. Vid. 194.

17. The feast of Lupercal.-The Roman festival of the Lupercalia (-ium or -iorum), whatever may be the etymology of the name, was in honour of the god Pan. It was celebrated annually on the Ides (or 13th) of February, in a place called the Lupercal, at the foot of Mount Aventine. A third company of Luperci, or priests of Pan, with Antony for its chief, was instituted in honour of Julius Cæsar.

18. It is no matter, etc.-The Second Folio goes, or stumbles, on

"let on Images

Be hung with the Caesars Trophees."

Mr Collier does not state that this is corrected by his MS. annotator.

18. Will make him fly.-A modern sentence constructed in this fashion would constitute the him the antecedent to the who, and give it the meaning of the person generally who (in this instance) else would soar, etc., or whoever would. But it will be more accordant with the style of Shakespeare's day to leave the him unemphatic, and to regard Cæsar as being the antecedent to who. It was not then so unusual, or accounted so inelegant, as it would now be, in our more precise and straitened syntax, thus to separate the relative from its true antecedent by the interposition of another false or apparent one, or to tack on the relative clause to the completed statement as if it had been an afterthought. Thus, again in the present Play, we have, in 704,

"Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign

Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perched,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
Who to Philippi here consorted us;

and in 716,

"O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early;
Who, having some advantage on Octavius,
Took it too eagerly."

SCENE II.-The same. A Public Place.

Enter, in Procession with Music, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPHURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA, a great crowd following, among them a SOOTHSAYER.

Cæs. Calphurnia,—

Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

Cas. Calphurnia,—

Cal. Here, my lord.

[Music ceases.

23. Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course.-Antonius.

Ant. Cæsar, my lord.

25. Cæs. 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 performed.

Cas. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

Sooth. Cæsar.

Cæs. Ha! who calls?


Casca. Bid every noise be still :-Peace yet again. [Music ceases.

Cæs. Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,

Cry, Cæsar. Speak; Cæsar is turned to hear. 32. Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs. What man is that?

34. Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides of March.
Cæs. Set him before me; let me see his face.

Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Cæsar.
Cas. What say'st thou to me now?
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Speak once again.

39. Cæs. He is a dreamer: let us leave him ;-pass.

[Sennet. Exeunt all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS.

Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pray you do.

Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;

I'll leave you.

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

45. Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veiled my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,
Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one);
Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shews of love to other men.

46. Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? 47. Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself,

But by reflection, by some other things.

48. Cas. 'Tis just :

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome
(Except immortal Casar), speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me!

50. Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
And, since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

[Flourish and shost.

51. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the people

Choose Cæsar for their king.

Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

53. Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.—

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

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