Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,

Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your

tears

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Cæs. He is a dreamer; let us leave him.
Pass.
[Sennet. Exeunt all but Brutus and
Cassius.

Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.

65

Cas. I pray you, do.

Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
[Exeunt all the Commoners.
See, whe'er their basest metal be not mov'd;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I. Disrobe the images

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. 70
Mar. May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about

And drive away the vulgar from the streets; 75
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's
wing

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

[SCENE II. A public place.]

80

[Exeunt.

26

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some

But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd

Among which number, Cassius, be you one-
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.

45

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. 50 Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself But by reflection, by some other things.

Cas. 'Tis just;

55

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have
heard,

Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Cæsar, speaking of Brutus e
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me,
Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to

hear;

And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of. 70
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus.
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
And after scandal them, or if you know

75

91

95

100

Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Cæsar, so were you; We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he; For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Cæsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point? Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, 110 Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!" I, as Eneas, our great ancestor,

105

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of

Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates;
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 140
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cæsar: what should be in that
"Cæsar"?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

145

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, "Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Ca sar."

Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed That he is grown so great? Age, thou art

sham'd!

150

How I have thought of this and of these times, I shall recount hereafter; for this present,

道

I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
Be any further mov'd. What you have said
I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time
Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: in
Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.

Cas. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

Re-enter CESAR and his train.

Bru. The games are done and Cæsar is returning.

Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the

sleeve;

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you 180 What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.

Bru. I will do so. But, look you. Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Cæsar's brow,

I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks

Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays

210

As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort 205
As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at anything.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
Than what I fear; for always I am Cæsar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.
[Sennet. Exeunt Cæsar and all his
train [but Casca].
Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak; would
you speak with me?

215

Bru. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanc'd to-day

That Cæsar looks so sad.

Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not?

Bru. I should not then ask Casca what had chanc'd.

219

mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown -yet 't was not a crown neither, 't was one of these coronets- and, as I told you, he put it by once; but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he of- [240 fered it to him again; then he put it by again; but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by; and still as he refus'd it, the rabblement hooted and clapp'd their chapp'd hands and threw [245 up their sweaty night-caps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Cæsar refus'd the crown, that it had almost choked Cæsar, for he swounded and fell down at it; and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

262

Cas. But, soft, I pray you; what, did Cæsar swound?

Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foam'd at mouth, and was speechless.

Bru. 'Tis very like; he hath the falling sickness.

Cas. No, Cæsar hath it not; but you and I And honest Casca, we have the falling sick

Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refus'd the crown, he pluck'd me ope his doublet and offer'd them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. [270 When he came to himself again, he said, if he had done or said anything amiss, he desir'd their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts. But there's no heed to be [278 taken of them; if Cæsar had stabb'd their mothers, they would have done no less.

Bru. And after that, he came, thus sad, away?

Casca. Ay.

Cas. Did Cicero say anything? Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek. Cas. To what effect?

280

283

Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again; but those that understood him smil'd at one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too. Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Cæsar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it.

291

Cas. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca? Casca. No, I am promis'd forth.

Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow?

316

Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see,
Thy honourable metal may be wrought
From that it is dispos'd; therefore it is meet
That noble minds keep ever with their likes;
For who so firm that cannot be seduc'd?
Cæsar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus.
If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me. I will this night,
In several hands, in at his windows throw,
As if they came from several citizens,
Writings all tending to the great opinion
That Rome holds of his name; wherein ob-
scurely

Cæsar's ambition shall be glanced at;
And after this let Cæsar seat him sure,
For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

320

325

[Exit.

[SCENE III. The same. A street.] Thunder and lightning. Enter [from opposite sides] CASCA [with his sword drawn] and CICERO.

Cic. Good even, Casca; brought you Cæsar home?

Why are you breathless, and why stare you so? Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the 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 6
The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam
To be exalted with the threat'ning 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.

10

Cic. Why, saw you anything more wonderful?

Casca. A common slave-you know him well by sight

15

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 ha' not since put up my sword Against the Capitol I met a lion,

20

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,
Why birds and beasts from quality and kind,
Why old men, fools, and children calculate,
Why all these things change from their ordi-

nance

Their natures and preformed faculties
To monstrous quality, why, you shall find
That Heaven hath infus'd them with these

spirits,