Cry, Caesar: Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Caes. What man is that?

Bru. A soothsayer, bids you beware the ides

of March.

Caes. Set him before me, let me see his face. Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon Caesar.

Caes. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Caes. 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.

Cas. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,
And shew of love, as I was wont to have:
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceiv'd: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am,

Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
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 shews of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your

passion;

By means whereof, this breast of mine hath bury'd

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
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:

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 Caesar,) speaking of Brutus,
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?

Gas. 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.
And be not jealous of 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
That I profefs myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous,

[Flourish, and shout. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the

people

Choose Caesar for their king.
Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him

well:

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love'
The name of honour more than I fear death.
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 Caesar; 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 Tyber chafing with her shores,
Caesar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,

-

And swim to yonder point? Upon the word,
Accouter'd 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,
Caesar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.

I, as Aeneas our great ancestor,

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

Tyber

Did I the tired Caesar: And this man
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly;

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,

Did lose his lustre: I did hear him

groan: Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas! it cry'd, Give me some drink, Titinius, As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestick world, And bear the palm alone.

Bru. Another general shout!

[Shout. Flourish.

I do believe, that these applauses are

For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world,

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,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus, and Caesar: What should be in that
Caesar?

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; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.

[Shout.

Now in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd:

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was fam'd with more than with one man? When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome,

That her wide walks encompass'd but one man ? Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, When there is in it but one only man.

O! you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, that would have
brook'd

The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a king.

Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing
jealous;

What you would work me to, I have some aim:
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter; for this present,

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;
Brutus had rather be a villager,

Than to repute himself à 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 shew of fire from Brutus,