SCENE V.
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 stretcht mine arm so far,
To be afraid 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 satisfie 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 last 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.
These she applies for warnings and portents
(a) noteOf evils imminent; and on her knee
Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to day.
-- 40 --
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
and that Great Men shall press
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
-- 41 --
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:
If Cæsar hide himself, shall they not whisper,
Lo, Cæsar is afraid!
Pardon me, Cæsar; for my dear, dear, love
3 noteTo your proceeding bids me tell you this:
And reason to my love is liable.
Cæs.
How foolish do your Fears seem now, Calphurnia?
I am asham'd, I did yield to them.
Give me my Robe, for I will go:
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].