Julius Caesar | Page 4

you climb'd up to walls and
battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
Your
infants in your arms, and there have sat
The livelong day with patient
expectation
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.
And
when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal
shout
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks
To hear the
replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?
And do you
now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph
over Pompey's blood?
Be gone!
Run to your houses, fall upon your
knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light
on this ingratitude.
FLAVIUS.
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
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most
exalted shores of all.
[Exeunt CITIZENS.]
See whether their basest metal be not moved;
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.
MARULLUS.
May we do so?
You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
FLAVIUS.
It is no matter; let no images
Be hung with Caesar's
trophies. I'll about
And drive away the vulgar from the streets;
So
do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers
pluck'd from Caesar'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.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The same. A public place.
[Enter, in procession, with music, Caesar; Antony, for the
course;
Calpurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a great
crowd following, among them a Soothsayer.]
CAESAR.
Calpurnia,--
CASCA.
Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.
[Music ceases.]
CAESAR.
Calpurnia,--
CALPURNIA.
Here, my lord.
CAESAR.
Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run
his course.--Antonius,--
ANTONY.
Caesar, my lord?
CAESAR.
Forget not in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calpurnia;

for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off
their sterile curse.
ANTONY.
I shall remember.
When Caesar says "Do this," it is
perform'd.
CAESAR.
Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
[Music.]
SOOTHSAYER.
Caesar!
CAESAR.
Ha! Who calls?
CASCA.
Bid every noise be still.--Peace yet again!
[Music ceases.]
CAESAR.
Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue,
shriller than all the music,
Cry "Caesar"! Speak, Caesar is turn'd to
hear.
SOOTHSAYER.
Beware the Ides of March.
CAESAR.
What man is that?
BRUTUS.
A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.
CAESAR.
Set him before me; let me see his face.
CASSIUS.
Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.
CAESAR.
What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again.
SOOTHSAYER.
Beware the Ides of March.
CAESAR.
He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass.

[Sennet. Exeunt all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS.]
CASSIUS.
Will you go see the order of the course?
BRUTUS.
Not I.
CASSIUS.
I pray you, do.
BRUTUS.
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.
CASSIUS.
Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from
your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have:

You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that
loves you.
BRUTUS.
Cassius,
Be not deceived: 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 behaviors;
But let
not therefore my good friends be grieved--
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.
CASSIUS.
Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;
By
means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great
value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your
face?
BRUTUS.
No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself
But by reflection,
by some other thing.
CASSIUS.
'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.
BRUTUS.
Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
That you
would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?
CASSIUS.
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared 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 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
That I
profess myself, in banqueting,
To all the rout, then hold me
dangerous.
[Flourish and shout.]
BRUTUS.
What