Who else would soar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.
SCENE II. The same. A Public Place.
Flourish. Enter, CÆSAR; ANTONY, for the course;
CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS,
CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among
them a Soothsayer.
[Music ceases. Calpurnia,
Cas. Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
When he doth run his course. Antonius,-
Ant. Cæsar, my lord?
Cas. 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.
Ant.
When Cæsar says, "do this," it is performed.
Cas. Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar!.
Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again.
Cas. Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry "Cæsar.' Speak; Cæsar is turned to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
What man is that?
Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Cas. Set him before me; let me see his face.
Casca. Fellow, come from the throng: look upon
Cæsar.
Cas. 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 Brutus and Cassius. Cas. Will you go see the order of the course? Bru. Not I.
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;
Cas. 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 friend that loves you.
Be not deceived: if I have veiled 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 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.
Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your
By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
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.
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,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?
Cas. 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.
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.
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 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, "Darest 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 roared, 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 proposed,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink.”
I, as Æneas our great ancestor
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man
Is now become a god, and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body
If Cæsar 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 cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius,"
As a sick girl. Ye gods! it doth amaze me,
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