Enter Lictors,—Lepidus, Julius Cæsar, Antony, —Standards, a Star,—Golden Eagles,—Silver Eagles,—and Guards.

Cæs.
Calpurnia,—

Ant.
Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks. [Musick ceases.]

Cæs.
Calpurnia,—

Cal.
Here, my lord.

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

Ant.
Cæsar, my lord.

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

Ant.
I shall remember:
When Cæsar says, Do this, it is perform'd

Cæs.
Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Musick.]

Sooth.
Cæsar!

Cæs.
Ha! Who calls?

Ant.
Bid every noise be still:—Peace yet again. [Musick ceases.]

Cæs.
Who is it in the press, that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the musick,
Cry, Cæsar: Speak; Cæsar is turn'd to hear.

Sooth.
Beware the ides of March.

Cæs.
What man is that?

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. [Lictors, Guards, &c. make way for the Soothsayer.]

Cæs.
What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

Sooth.
Beware the ides of March.

Cæs.
He is a dreamer; let us leave him;—pass. [Musick.] [Exeunt,—the Soothsayer,—Standards of S. P. Q. R. —Priests,—Senators,—Virgins,—Calpurnia,— Matrons,—Lictors,—Lepidus, Cæsar, Antony,— Standards, a Star,—Golden Eagles,—Silver Eagles, —Guards,—Lucius, Varro,—Titinius, Flavius, —Strato, Pindarus,—Clitus, Servius,— Cinna, Popilius,—Decius, Metellus,—Trebonius and Casca.

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.

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.

Bru.
Cassius,
Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd 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 griev'd;—
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;—
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.

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?

Bru.
No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection, by some other things.

Cas.
'T is 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 Cæsar,—speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd 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?

Cas.
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd 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 of 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. [A Shout.]

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.

Bru.
I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well:—
But, wherefore do you hold me here so long?

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

Cas.
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 Tyber 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 bad 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 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: 't is 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 his 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 cried, 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 majestick world,
And bear the palm alone. [A Shout.]

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 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 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. [A Shout.]
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art asham'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,
That her wide walks encompass'd but one man?
O! you and I have heard our fathers say,

There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a king.

Bru.
That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
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 entreat 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.— [Three Shouts.]
The games are done, and Cæsar is returning.

Cas.
As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve:
And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
What hath proceeded, worthy note, to day.

Bru.
I will do so:—But, look you, Cassius,
The angry spot doth glow on Cæsar's brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden train.

Cas.
Casca will tell us what the matter is. [Musick.] Enter Standards of S. P. Q. R.—Lictors,—Lepidus, Antony, Cæsar,—Standards, a Star,—Golden Eagles,—Silver Eagles,—Guards,—Senators,— Trebonius, Casca,—Cinna, Popilius,—Decius and Metellus.

Cæs.
Antonius,—

Ant.
Cæsar.

Cæs.
Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look:
He thinks too much, such men are dangerous.

Ant.
Fear him not, Cæsar; he's not dangerous;
He is a noble Roman, and well given.

Cæs.
'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 musick;
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,
Whiles 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 Cæsar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. [Musick.] [Exeunt Standards of S. P. Q. R.—Lictors,—Lepidus Cæsar, Antony,—Standards, a Star,— Golden Eagles,—Silver Eagles,—Guards,—Senators, —Metellus, Decius,—Popilius, Cinna,—and Trebonius. [Brutus, Casca, and Cassius remain.]

Casca.
You pull'd me by the cloak: Would you speak with me?

Bru.
Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanc'd to-day,
That Cæsar looks so sad.

Casca.
Why, you were with him, were you not?

Bru.
I should not, then, ask Casca what hath chanc'd.

Casca.

Why, there was a crown offer'd him: and, being offer'd him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a' shouting.

Bru.

What was the second noise for?

Casca.

Why, for that too.

Cas.

They shouted thrice: What was the last cry for?

Casca.

Why, for that too.

Bru.

Was the crown offer'd him thrice?

Casca.

Ay, marry, was't; and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and, at every putting by, nine honest neighbours shouted.

Cas.

Who offer'd him the crown?

Casca.

Why, Antony.

Bru.

Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

Casca.

I can as well be hang'd, as tell the manner of it: it was mere foolery; I did not mark it.—I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown: and, as I told you, he put it by once; but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offer'd it to him again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offer'd it the third time; he put it the third time by: and still, as he refus'd it, the rabblement hooted, and clapp'd their chopp'd hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and utter'd such a deal of stinking breath because Cæsar refus'd the crown, that it had almost choak'd Cæsar; for he swoon'd, and fell down at it: And, for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips, and receiving the bad air.

Cas.

But, soft, I pray you: What? Did Cæsar swoon?

Casca.

He fell down in the market-place, and foam'd at mouth, and was speechless.

Bru.
'T is very like: he hath the falling sickness.

Cas.
No, Cæsar hath it not; but you, and I,
And honest Casca, we 've the falling sickness.

Casca.

I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure, Cæsar fell down:—If the tag-rag people did not clap him, and hiss him, according as he pleas'd, and displeas'd them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man.

Bru.

What said he, when he came unto himself?

Casca.

Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refus'd the crown, he pluck'd me ope his doublet, and offer'd them his throat to cut.—An I had been a man of any occupation,

if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues:—and so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done, or said, any thing amiss, he desir'd their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, Alas, good soul!— and forgave him with all their hearts: But there 's no heed to be taken of them: if Cæsar had stabb'd their mothers, they would have done no less.

Bru.

And after that, he came, thus sad, away?

Casca.

Ay.

Cas.

Did Cicero say any thing?

Casca.

Ay, he spoke Greek.

Cas.

To what effect?

Casca.

Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again: But those that understood him, smil'd at one another, and shook their heads: but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me.—Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it.

Cas.

Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?

Casca.

No; I am promis'd forth.

Cas.

Will you dine with me to-morrow?

Casca.

Ay; if I be alive, and your mind hold,—and your dinner worth the eating.

Cas.
Good; I will expect you.

Casca.
Do so:—Farewell both. [Exit Casca.

Bru.
What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!
He was quick mettle, when he went to school.

Cas.
So is he now, in execution
Of any bold or noble enterprise,
However he puts on this tardy form.
This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
Which gives men stomach to digest his words
With better appetite.

Bru.
And so it is.—For this time I will leave you:
To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
I will come home to you; or, if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

Cas.
I will do so.

Bru.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this;
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.—Fare you well. [Exit Brutus.

Cas.
Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see,
Thy honourable metal may be wrought
From that it is dispos'd: Therefore 't is meet
That noble minds keep ever with their likes:
For who so firm, that cannot be seduc'd?
Cæsar doth bear me hard: But he loves Brutus:
If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me.—I will this night,
In several hands, in at his windows throw,
As if they came from several citizens,
Writings, all tending to the great opinion
That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely
Cæsar's ambition shall be glanced at:
And, after this, let Cæsar seat him sure;
For we will shake him, or worse days endure. [Exit. END OF ACT I.

Previous section