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 courtesie. 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, [Aside.
The heart of Brutus yerns to think upon? [Exeunt.

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