Bru.
What, Lucius! ho!—
I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day.—Lucius, I say!—
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.—
When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say: What, Lucius! Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Call'd you, my lord?

Bru.
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc.
I will, my lord. [Exit Lucius.

Bru.
It must be by his death: and for my part,
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crown'd:—
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?—That;—
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That, at his will, he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power: And, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason. But 't is a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face:
But, when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: So Cæsar may;
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these, and these extremities:
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell. Enter Lucius.

Luc.
The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found

This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure,
It did not lie there, when I went to bed.

Bru.
Get you to bed again; it is not day.—
Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?

Luc.
I know not, sir.

Bru.
Look in the calendar, and bring me word. [Exit Lucius. [Lightning.]
The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light, that I may read by them. [Opens the Paper, and reads.]
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself.
Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress!
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake,—
Such instigations have been often dropp'd
Where I have took them up.
Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out,—
Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What! Rome?—
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.—
Speak, strike, redress!—Am I entreated then
To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

Bru.
'T is good.— [Knocking without.
Go to the gate; somebody knocks.— [Exit Lucius.
Since Cassius first
Did whet me against Cæsar, I've not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The genius and the mortal instruments

Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection. Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, 't is your brother Cassius at the door,
Who doth desire to see you.

Bru.
Is he alone?

Luc.
No, sir, there are more with him.

Bru.
Do you know them?

Luc.
No, sir;
They have their faces buried in their cloaks,
That by no means I may discover them
By any mark of favour.

Bru.
Let them enter.— [Exit Lucius.
They are the faction. O conspiracy!
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night,
When evils are most free? O, then, by day,
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy;
Hide it in smiles, and affability:
For, if thou path, thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention. Enter Cassius, followed by Trebonius, Decius, Casca, Cinna, and Metellus, with their faces muffled in their gowns.

Cas.
I think, we are too bold upon your rest:
Good morrow, Brutus: Do we trouble you?

Bru.
I have been up this hour; awake, all night.—
Know I these men that come along with you?

Cas.
Yes, every man of them; and no man here,
But honours you: and every one doth wish,
You had but that opinion of yourself,
Which every noble Roman bears of you.—
This is Trebonius. [They all uncover their faces.]

Bru.
He is welcome hither.

Cas.
This, Decius.

Bru.
He is welcome too.

Cas.
This, Casca; this, Cinna;
And this, Metellus Cimber.

Bru.
They're all welcome.—
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?

Cas.
Shall I entreat a word? [Brutus and Cassius retire, and talk apart.]

Dec.
Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?

Casca.
No.

Tre.
O pardon, sir, it doth; and yon grey lines,
That fret the clouds, are messengers of day.

Casca.
You shall confess that you are both deceiv'd.
Here, as I point my hand, the sun arises;
Which is a great way growing on the south,
Weighing the youthful season of the year.
Some two months hence, up higher toward the north
He first presents his fire; and the high east
Stands, as the Capitol, directly here. [Brutus and Cassius advance.]

Bru.
Give me your hands all over, one by one.

Cas.
And let us swear our resolution.

Bru.
No, not an oath; if not the faiths of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse:—
If these be motives weak, break off betimes.
And every man hence to his idle bed;
So, let high-sighted tyranny range on,
Till each man drop by lottery. But if these,
As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour
The melting spirits of women; then, countrymen,
What need we any spur, but our own cause,
To prick us to redress?—What other oath,
Than honesty to honesty engag'd,

That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
Unto bad causes swear
Such creatures as men doubt: but do not stain
The even virtue of our enterprise,
To think, that our performance
Did need an oath; when every drop of blood,
That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a several bastardy,
If he do break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath passed from him.

Cas.
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
I think, he will stand very strong with us.

Met.
Let us not leave him out.

Cin.
No, by no means.

Tre.
O, let us have him; for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion,
And buy men's voices to commend our deeds.

Bru.
O, name him not; let us not break with him;
For he will never follow any thing
That other men begin.

Cas.
Then, leave him out.

Casca.
Indeed, he is not fit.

Dec.
Shall no man else be touch'd but only Cæsar?

Cas.
Decius, well urg'd:—I think, it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Cæsar,
Should outlive Cæsar: We shall find of him
A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means,
If he improves them, may well stretch so far,
As to annoy us all; which to prevent,
Let Antony and Cæsar fall together.

Bru.
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs;
Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards:
Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
Oh, that we then could come by Cæsar's spirit,
And not dismember Cæsar! But, alas,

Cæsar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,
Let 's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds:—
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cæsar's arm,
When Cæsar's head is off.

Cas.
Yet I do fear him:
For, in the ingrafted love he bears to Cæsar,—

Casca.
There is no fear in him; let him not die;
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes.]

Bru.
Peace! count the clock.

Cas.
The clock hath stricken three.

Treb.
'T is time to part.

Cas.
But it is doubtful yet,
Whe'r Cæsar will come forth to-day, or no;
For he is superstitious grown of late,
Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies:
It may be, these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the persuasion of his augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

Dec.
Never fear that: If he be so resolv'd,
I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:
But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers,
He says, he does; being then most flatter'd.
Let me work;
For I can give his humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the Capitol.

Cas.
Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

Bru.
By the eighth hour: Is that the uttermost?

Casca.
Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Tre.
Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard,

Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:
I wonder, none of you have thought of him.

Bru.
Now, good Trebonius, go along by him:
He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Cas.
The morning comes upon us: We 'll leave you, Brutus:—
And, friends, disperse yourselves: But, all, remember
What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.

Bru.
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily:
Let not our looks put on our purposes;
But bear it, as our Roman actors do,
With untir'd spirits, and formal constancy:
And so, good-morrow to you every one. [Exeunt all but Brutus, muffling their faces in their gowns again. Enter Porcia, as they are taking leave of Brutus.

Por.
Brutus, my lord!

Bru.
Porcia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now?
It is not for your health, thus to commit
Your weak condition to the raw-cold morning.

Por.
Nor for yours neither. You 've ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at supper,
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Musing, and sighing, with your arms across:
And, when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You star'd upon me with ungentle looks,
And, with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did;
Fearing to strengthen that impatience
Which seem'd too much enkindled. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

Bru.
I am not well in health, and that is all.

Por.
Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.

Bru.
Why, so I do:—Good Porcia, go to bed.

Por.
Is Brutus sick?
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
You have some sick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of: And, upon my knees,
I charm you, by my once commended beauty,
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,
Why you are heavy; and what men to-night
Have had resort to you: for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.

Bru. [Raising her]
Kneel not, gentle Porcia.

Por.
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted, I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? Am I yourself,
But, as it were, in sort, or limitation;
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs
Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
Porcia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

Bru.
You are my true and honourable wife;
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.

Por.
If this were true, then should I know this secret.
I grant, I am a woman; but, withall,
A woman that lord Brutus took to wife:
I grant, I am a woman; but, withall,
A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter.
Think you, I am no stronger than my sex,
Being so father'd, and so husbanded?
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them:
I have made strong proof of my constancy,

Giving myself a voluntary wound
Here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with patience,
And not my husband's secrets?

Bru.
O, ye gods,
Render me worthy of this noble wife!— [Knocking without.]
Hark, hark! one knocks.— Enter Lucius.
Lucius, who is that knocks?

Luc.
Here is a sick man, that would speak with you.

Bru. [Aside.]
Caius Ligarius, that Trebonius spoke of.—
Porcia, go in a while:
All my engagements I will construe to thee,—
And by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart.—Leave me with haste.— [Exit Porcia.
I come to him. [Thunder and Lightning.] [Exeunt.

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