Antony. Caesar?
Caesar. Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look,
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.
Antony. Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dangerous;
He is a noble Roman, and well given.
Caesar. Would he were fatter; but I fear him not:
Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer; and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit,
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
Whilst they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.
We know hardly any passage more expressive of the genius of
Shakespeare than this. It is as if he had been actually present, had
known the different characters and what they thought of one another,
and had taken down what he heard and saw, their looks, words, and
gestures, just as they happened.
The character of Mark Antony is further speculated upon where the
conspirators deliberate whether he shall fall with Caesar. Brutus is
against it:
And for Mark Antony, think not of him:
For "he can do no more than Caesar's arm,
When Caesar's head is off."
Cassius. Yet do I fear him:
For in th' ingrafted love he bears to Caesar--
Brutus. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
If he love Caesar, all that he can do
Is to himself, take thought, and die for Caesar:
And that were much, he should; for he is giv'n
To sports, to wildness, and much company.
Trebonius. There is no fear in him; let him not die.
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
They were in the wrong; and Cassius was right.
The honest manliness of Brutus is, however, sufficient to find out
the unfitness of Cicero to be included in their enterprise, from his
affected egotism and literary vanity.
O, name him not: let us not break with him;
For he will never follow any thing,
That other men begin.
His scepticism as to prodigies and his moralizing on the weather--"This
disturbed sky is not to walk in"--are in the same spirit of refined
imbecility.
Shakespeare has in this play and elsewhere shown the same
penetration into political character and the springs of public
events as into those of everyday life. For instance, the whole
design to liberate their country fails from the generous temper and
overweening confidence of Brutus in the goodness of their cause and
the assistance of others. Thus it has always been. Those who mean
well themselves think well of others, and fall a prey to their
security. That humanity and sincerity which dispose men to resist
injustice and tyranny render them unfit to cope with the cunning and
power of those who are opposed to them. The friends of liberty trust
to the professions of others because they are themselves sincere,
and endeavour to secure the public good with the least possible hurt
to its enemies, who have no regard to anything but their own
unprincipled ends, and stick at nothing to accomplish them. Cassius
was better cut out for a conspirator. His heart prompted his head.
His habitual jealousy made him fear the worst that might happen, and
his irritability of temper added to his inveteracy of purpose, and
sharpened his patriotism. The mixed nature of his motives made him
fitter to contend with bad men. The vices are never so well employed
as in combating one another. Tyranny and servility are to be dealt
with after their own fashion: otherwise, they will triumph over
those who spare them, and finally pronounce their funeral panegyric,
as Antony did that of Brutus. All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar:
He only in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
The quarrel between Brutus and Cassius is managed in a masterly way.
The dramatic fluctuation of passion, the calmness of Brutus, the
heat of Cassius, are admirably described; and the exclamation of
Cassius on hearing of the death of Portia, which he does not learn
till after the reconciliation, 'How 'scap'd I killing when I crost
you so?' gives double force to all that has gone before. The scene
between Brutus and Portia, where she endeavours to extort the secret
of the conspiracy from him, is conceived in the most heroical
spirit, and the burst of tenderness in Brutus:
You are my true and honourable wife;
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart--
is justified by her whole behaviour. Portia's breathless impatience
to learn the event of the conspiracy, in the dialogue with Lucius,
is full of passion. The interest which Portia takes in Brutus and
that which Calphurnia takes in the fate of Caesar are discriminated
with the nicest precision. Mark Antony's speech over the dead body
of Caesar has been justly admired for the mixture of pathos and
artifice in it: that of Brutus certainly is not so good.
The entrance of the conspirators to the house of Brutus at midnight
is rendered very impressive. In the midst of this scene we meet with
one of those careless and natural digressions which occur so
frequently and beautifully in Shakespeare. After Cassius has
introduced his friends one by one, Brutus says:
They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?