SCENE II. The Same. A Public Place. Enter, in procession, with music, CESAR; ANTONY, for the course; CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer. Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. Antonius. Antony. Cæsar, my lord. Cæs. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, Ant. I shall remember: When Cæsar says, 'Do this,' it is perform'd. Cæs. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Music. Soothsayer. Cæsar! Cæs. Ha! Who calls? Casca. Bid every noise be still. — Peace yet again! Cæs. [Music ceases. Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry, Cæsar! Speak: Cæsar is turn'd to hear. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cæs. What man is that? Brutus. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. Cæs. Set him before me; let me see his face. Cassius. Fellow, come from the throng: look upon Cæsar. Cæs. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again. Sooth. Beware the ides of March. Cas. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass. [Sennet. Exeunt all but BRU. and Cas. 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: 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, Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours; Nor construe any farther 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 buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Cas. 'Tis just; And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors, as will turn Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cas sius, 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 Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which you yet know not of. To every new protester; if you know That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. [Flourish and shout. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Cæsar 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. I had as lief not be, as live to be I was born free as Cæsar, so were you; The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores, And swim to yonder point? - Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder Did I the tired Cæsar. And this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 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: Alas! it cried, Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Bru. [Shout. Flourish. Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar. 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. |