Where Publius is come to fetch me.

Pub.
Good-morrow, Cæsar.

Cæs.
Welcome, Publius.
What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too?
Good-morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius,
Cæsar was ne'er so much your enemy,
As that same Ague which hath made you lean.
What is 't o' clock?

Bru.
Cæsar, 'tis stricken eight.

Cæs.
I thank you for your pains and courtesy. Enter Antony.
See! Antony, that revels long o' nights,
Is notwithstanding up. Good-morrow, Antony.

Ant.
So to most noble Cæsar.

Cæs.
Bid them prepare within:
I am to blame to be thus waited for.
Now, Cinna; now Metellus. What Trebonius!
I have an hour's talk in store for you,
Remember, that you call on me to-day;
Be near me, that I may remember you.

Treb.
Cæsar, I will.—And so near will I be, [Aside.
That your best Friends shall wish I had been further.

Cæs.
Good Friends, go in, and taste some wine with me.
And we, like Friends, will straightway go together.

Bru.
That every like is not the same, O Cæsar,
The heart of Brutus yerns to think upon! [Exeunt.

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