Cic.
Good even, Casca: ^{5 note}Brought you Cæsar home?
Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?

Casca.
Are you not mov'd, when all the ^{6 note}sway of earth
Shakes, like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,

I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have seen
The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam,
To be exalted with the threatning clouds:
But never 'till to-night, never 'till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Either there is a civil strife in heaven;
Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
Incenses them to send destruction.

Cic.
Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

Casca.
A common slave^{7 note} (you know him well by sight)
Held up his left hand, which did flame, and burn,
Like twenty torches join'd; and yet his hand,
Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
Besides, (I have not since put up my sword)
Against the Capitol I met a lion,
^{8 note}

These are their reasons,—They are natural;
For, I believe, they are portentous things
Unto the climate that they point upon.

Cic.
Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time:
But men may construe things after their fashion,
Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
Comes Cæsar to the Capitol to-morrow?

Casca.
He doth; for he did bid Antonius
Send word to you, he would be there to-morrow.

Cic.
Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky
Is not to walk in.

Casca.
Farewel, Cicero. [Exit Cicero. Enter Cassius.

Cas.
Who's there?

Casca.
A Roman.

Cas.
Casca, by your voice.

Casca.
Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this?

Cas.
A very pleasing night to honest men.

Casca.
Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

Cas.
Those, that have known the earth so full of faults.
For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,
Submitting me unto the perilous night;
And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,
Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone:
And, when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open
The breast of heaven, I did present myself
Even in the aim and very flash of it.

Casca.
But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?
It is the part of men to fear and tremble,
When the most mighty gods, by tokens, send
Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

Cas.
You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of life
That should be in a Roman, you do want,

Or else you use not: You look pale, and gaze,
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
But if you would consider the true cause,
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
^{9 note}

Why birds, and beasts, from quality and kind;
Why old men fools, ^{1 note}

Casca.
'Tis Cæsar that you mean: Is it not, Cassius?

Cas.
Let it be who it is: for Romans now
^{3 note}

But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,
And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;
Our yoke and sufferance shew us womanish.

Casca.
Indeed, they say, the senators to-morrow
Mean to establish Cæsar as a king:
And he shall wear his crown, by sea, and land,
In every place, save here in Italy.

Cas.
I know where I will wear this dagger then;
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
I can shake off at pleasure.

Casca.
So can I:
So every bondman in his own hand bears
The power to cancel his captivity.

Cas.
And why should Cæsar be a tyrant then?
Poor man! I know, he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees, the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire,
Begin it with weak straws: What trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate
So vile a thing as Cæsar? But, O, grief!
Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this
Before a willing bondman: then I know

^{4 note}My answer must be made: But I am arm'd,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

Casca.
You speak to Casca: and to such a man,
That is no flearing tell-tale. ^{5 note}Hold my hand:
^{6 note}Be factious for redress of all these griefs;
And I will set this foot of mine as far,
As who goes farthest.

Cas.
There's a bargain made.
Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans,
To undergo, with me, an enterprize
Of honourable-dangerous consequence;
And I do know, by this, they stay for me
In Pompey's porch: For now, this fearful night,
There is no stir, or walking in the streets;
And the complexion of the element,
^{7 note}

Casca.
Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

Cas.
'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait;
He is a friend.—Cinna, where haste you so?

Cin.
To find out you: Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

Cas.
No, it is Casca; one incorporate
To our attempts. Am I not staid for, Cinna?

Cin.
I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this?
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.

Cas.
Am I not staid for? Tell me.

Cin.
Yes,
You are. O, Cassius, if you could but win
The noble Brutus to our party—

Cas.
Be you content: Good Cinna, take this paper,
And look you lay it in the prætor's chair,
Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this
In at his window; set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius, there?

Cin.
All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.

Cas.
That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. [Exit Cinna.
Come, Casca, you and I will, yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
Is ours already; and the man entire
Upon the next encounter, yields him ours.

Cas.
O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:
And that, which would appear offence in us,
His countenance, like richest alchymy,
Will change to virtue, and to worthiness.

Cas.
Him, and his worth, and our great need of him,
You have right well conceited. Let us go,
For it is after midnight; and, ere day,
We will awake him, and be sure of him. [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Brutus, in his Orchard^{8 note}.

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.

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
^{9 note}

I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason. But 'tis a ^{1 note}common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face:
But when he once attains the upmost round^{2 note}






,
He then unto the ladder turns his back;
Looks in the clouds, scorning the ^{3 note}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, ^{4 note}as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell. Re-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.

^{5 note}Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March!

Luc.
I know not, sir.

Bru.
Look in the kalendar, and bring me word.

Luc.
I will, sir. [Exit.

Bru.
The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light, that I may read by them. [Opens the letter, and reads.
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself.
Shall Rome—Speak, strike, redress!
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake,—
Such instigations have been often dropp'd
Where I have took them up.
Shall Rome—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
To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receivest
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! Re-enter Lucius.

Luc.
^{6 note}

Bru.
'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. [Exit Lucius.

Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,
I have not slept.
^{7 note}

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. Re-enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, 'tis your brother^{1 note} 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; their hats are pluck'd about their ears,
And half their faces bury'd in their cloaks,
That by no means I may discover them
By any mark ^{9 note}of favour.

Bru.
Let them enter. [Exit Lucius.
They are the faction. O conspiracy!
Sham'st thou to shew 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:
^{1 note}

Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention. Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

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.

Bru.
He is welcome hither.

Cas.
This, Decius Brutus.

Bru.
He is welcome too.

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

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

Cas.
Shall I entreat a word? [They whisper.

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

Casca.
No.

Cin.
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 sword, 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.

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

Cas.
And let us swear our resolution.

Bru.
^{2 note}

And will not palter? and what other oath,
Than honesty to honesty engag'd,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
^{5 note}
Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous^{6 note}

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

Casca.
Let us not leave him out.

Cin.
No, by no means.

Met.
O, let us have him; for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion,
And buy men's voices to commend our deeds:
It shall be said, his judgment rul'd our hands;
Our youths, and wildness, shall no whit appear,
But all be bury'd in his gravity.

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 out-live Cæsar: We shall find of him
A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means,
If he improve 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:
For Antony is but a limb of Cæsar.
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:
O, that we then could come by Cæsar's spirit^{7 note}



,
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^{8 note}



,
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds:
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,

Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
And after seem to chide them. This shall make
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
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 fear him:
For in the ingrafted love he bears to Cæsar,—

Bru.
Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
If he love Cæsar, all that he can do
Is to himself; ^{9 note}

Treb.
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 strucken three.

Treb.
'Tis 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^{1 note}

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: ^{2 note}for he loves to hear,
^{3 note}

And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:
But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers,
He says, he does; being then most flattered.
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?

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

Met.
Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard^{4 note}
,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;
I wonder, none of you have thought of him.

Bru.
Now, good Metellus, go along to 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 shew yourselves true Romans.

Bru.
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
^{5 note}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. Manet Brutus.
Boy! Lucius!—Fast asleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. Enter Portia.

Por.
Brutus, my lord!

Bru.
Portia, 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 have 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:
I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd you head,
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot:
Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not;
But, 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; and, withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;
And, could it work so much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,

I should not know you, Brutus. 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 Portia, go to bed.

Por.
Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours
Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick;
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night?
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^{4 note}


, 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.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.

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^{5 note}

And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs^{7 note}

Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
Portia 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^{8 note}







; but, withal,
A woman that lord Brutus took to wife:
I grant, I am a woman; but, withal,
^{9 note}

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! [Knock.
Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in a while;
And by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart.
All my engagements I will construe to thee,
All the charactery^{1 note} of my sad brows:—
Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia. Enter Lucius, and Ligarius.
Lucius, who is that knocks?

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

Bru.
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.—
Boy, stand aside.—Caius Ligarius! how?

Lig.
Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

Bru.
O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not sick^{2 note}







!

Lig.
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

Bru.
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.

Lig.
By all the gods that Romans bow before,
I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome!
Brave son, deriv'd from honourable loins!
Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur'd up
My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,
And I will strive with things impossible;
Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?

Bru.
A piece of work, that will make sick men whole.

Lig.
But are not some whole, that we must make sick?

Bru.
That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going
To whom it must be done.

Lig.
Set on your foot;
And, with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you,
To do I know not what: but it sufficeth,
That Brutus leads me on.

Bru.
Follow me then. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Cæsar's Palace. Thunder and lightning. Enter Cæsar, in his Nightgown.

Cæs.
Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace to-night:
Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cry'd out,
Help, ho! They murder Cæsar. Who's within?

Enter a Servant.

Serv.
My lord?

Cæs.
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice,
And bring me their opinions of success.

Serv.
I will, my lord. [Exit. Enter Calphurnia.

Cal.
What mean you, Cæsar? Think you to walk forth?
You shall not stir out of your house to-day.

Cæs.
Cæsar shall forth: The things, that threaten'd me,
Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see
The face of Cæsar, they are vanished.

Cal.
Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies^{3 note}

Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan;
And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streets.
O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.

Cæs.
What can be avoided,
Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods?
Yet Cæsar shall go forth: for these predictions
Are to the world in general, as to Cæsar.

Cal.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Cæs.
Cowards die many times before their deaths^{5 note}

It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that ^{7 note}death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come. Re-enter a Servant.
What say the augurers?

Serv.
They would not have you to stir forth to-day.
Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
They could not find a heart within the beast.

Cæs.
The gods do this ^{8 note}in shame of cowardice:
Cæsar should be a beast without a heart,
If he should stay at home to-day for fear.
No, Cæsar shall not: Danger knows full well,
That Cæsar is more dangerous than he.
^{9 note}

And I the elder and more terrible;
And Cæsar shall go forth.

Cal.
Alas, my lord,
Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence.
Do not go forth to-day: Call it my fear,
That keeps you in the house, and not your own.
We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house;
And he shall say, you are not well to-day:
Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.

Cæs.
Mark Antony shall say, I am not well;
And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. Enter Decius.
Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.

Dec.
Cæsar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy Cæsar:
I come to fetch you to the senate-house.

Cæs.
And you are come in very happy time,
To bear my greeting to the senators,
And tell them, that I will not come to-day:
Cannot, is false; and that I dare not, falser;
I will not come to day: Tell them so, Decius.

Cal.
Say, he is sick.

Cæs.
Shall Cæsar send a lye?
Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
To be afeard to tell grey-beards the truth?—
Decius, go tell them, Cæsar will not come.

Dec.
Most mighty Cæsar, let me know some cause,
Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so.

Cæs.
The cause is in my will, I will not come;
That is enough to satisfy the senate.
But, for your private satisfaction,
Because I love you, I will let you know.
Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:
She dreamt to-night she saw my statue,
Which, like a fountain, with a hundred spouts,
Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans

Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it.
^{1 note}


And these does she apply for warnings, and portents,
And evils imminent; and on her knee
Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to-day.

Dec.
This dream is all amiss interpreted;
It was a vision, fair and fortunate:
Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
In which so many smiling Romans bath'd,
Signifies, that from you great Rome shall suck
Reviving blood; ^{2 note}

For tinctures, stains, relicks, and cognisance.
This by Calphurnia's dream is signify'd.

Cæs.
And this way have you well expounded it.

Dec.
I have, when you have heard what I can say:
And know it now; The senate have concluded
To give, this day, a crown to mighty Cæsar.
If you shall send them word, you will not come,
Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock
Apt to be render'd, for some one to say,
Break up the senate 'till another time,
When Cæsar's wife shall meet with better dreams^{3 note}

Cæs.
How foolish do your fears seem now, Calphurnia?
I am ashamed I did yield to them.—
Give me my robe, for I will go:—

Enter Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, Trebonius, and Cinna.
And look 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 strucken 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.

SCENE III. A street near the Capitol.

Enter Artemidorus, reading a paper.

Cæsar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna; trust not Trebonius; mark well Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus loves thee not; thou hast wrong'd Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent against Cæsar. If thou be'st not immortal, look about you: Security gives way to conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee!

Thy lover,
Artemidorus.