Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this Ingratitude.

Ela. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault.
Assemble all the poore men of your sort;

Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares
Into the Channell, till the lowest streame
Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all.

Exeunt all the Commoners.

See where their basest mettle be not mov'd,
They vanish tongue-tyed in their guiltinesse :
Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll,
This way will I Disrobe the Images,

If

you
do finde them deckt with Ceremonies.
Mur. May we do so?

You know it is the Feast of Lupercall.

Fla. It is no matter, let no Images
Be hung with Casars Trophees: Ile about,
And drive away the Vulgar from the streets;
So do you too, where you perceive them thicke.
These growing Feathers, pluckt from Cesars wing,
Will make him flye an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soare above the view of men,

And keepe us all in servile fearefulnesse.

Exeunt.

Enter Casar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flavius.

Cas. Calphurnia.

Peace ho, Casar speakes.

Cask.

Cas.

Calp. Heere my Lord.

Cas. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, When he doth run his course. Antonio.

Ant. Cæsar, my Lord.

Cas. Forget not in your speed Antonio, To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say,

Calphurnia.

The Barren touched in this holy chace,

Shake off their sterrile curse.

Ant.

I shall remember,

When Casar sayes, Do this; it is perform'd.
Cas. Set on, and leave no Ceremony out.
Sooth. Cæsar.

Cas. Ha? Who calles?

Cask. Bid every noyse be still: peace yet againe.
Cas. Who is it in the presse, that calles on me?
I heare a Tongue shriller then all the Musicke
Cry, Casar: Speake. Casar is turn'd to heare.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Cas.
What man is that?
Br. A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March.
Cas. Set him before me, let me see his face.

Cassi. Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cæsar.
Cas. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once againe.
Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Cas. He is a Dreamer, let us leave him: Passe.

Sennet. Exeunt. Manet Brut. Cass.

Cassi. Will you go see the order of the course?
Brut. Not I.

Cassi. I pray you do.

Brut. I am not Gamesom: I do lacke some part Of that quicke Spirit that is in Antony :

Let me not hinder Cassius your desires;

Ile leave you.

Cassi. Brutus, I do observe you now of late :
I have not from your eyes, that gentlenesse
And shew of Love, as I was wont to have:
You beare too stubborne, and too strange a hand
Over your Friend, that loves

Bru.

you.

Cassius,

Be not deceiv'd: If I have veyl'd my looke,
I turne the trouble of my Countenance

Meerely upon my selfe. Vexed I am

Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions onely proper to my selfe,

Which give some foyle (perhaps) to my Behaviours:
But let not therefore my good Friends be greev'd
(Among which number Cassius be you one)
Nor construe any further my neglect,

Then that poore Brutus with himselfe at warre,

Forgets the shewes of Love to other men.

Cassi. Then Brutus, I have much mistook your passion, By meanes whereof, this Brest of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy Cogitations.

Tell me good Brutus, Can you see your

Brutus. No Cassius:

face?

For the eye sees not it selfe but by reflection,
By some other things.

That you

have no such Mirrors, as will turne

Your hidden worthinesse into your eye,

That you might see your shadow:

I have heard,

Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortall Cæsar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this Ages yoake,
Have wish'd, that Noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers, would you

Leade me Cassius?

That you would have me seeke into my selfe,
For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore good Brutus, be prepar'd to heare:
And since you know, you cannot see your selfe
So well as by Reflection; I your Glasse,

Will modestly discover to your selfe,

That of your selfe, which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common Laughter, or did use
To stale with ordinary Oathes my love
To every new Protester: if you know,
That I do fawne on men, and hugge them hard,
And after scandall them: Or if you know,
That I professe my selfe in Banquetting
To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous.

Bru. What meanes this Showting? I do feare, the People choose Casar For their King.

Cassi. I, do you feare it?

Flourish, and Shout.

Then must I thinke you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not Cassius, yet I love him well :
But wherefore do you hold me heere so long?
What is it, that you would impart to me?
If it be ought toward the generall good,
Set Honor in one eye, and Death i'th other,
And I will looke on both indifferently:
For let the Gods so speed mee, as I love
The name of Honor, more then I feare death.
Cassi. I know that vertue to be in
you Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, Honor is the subject of my Story:
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Thinke of this life. But for my single selfe,
I had as liefe not be, as live to be
In awe of such a Thing, as I my selfe.
I was borne free as Casar, so were you,
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the Winters cold, as well as hee.
For once, upon a Rawe and Gustie day,
The troubled Tyber, chafing with her Shores,

Casar saide to me, Dar'st thou Cassius now

Leape in with me into this

angry Flood,
And swim to yonder Point? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bad him follow: so indeed he did.
The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty Sinewes, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of Controversie.
But ere we could arrive the Point propos'd,
Casar cride, Helpe me Cassius, or I sinke.
I (as Eneas, our great Ancestor,

Did from the Flames of Troy, upon his shoulder

The old Anchyses beare) so, from the waves of Tyber

Did I the tyred Casar: and this Man,

Is now become a God, and Cassius is

A wretched Creature, and must bend his body,
If Casar carelesly but nod on him.

He had a Feaver when he was in Spaine,

And when the Fit was on him, I did marke

How he did shake: 'Tis true, this God did shake,
His Coward lippes did from their colour flye,

And that same Eye, whose bend doth awe the World,
Did loose his Lustre: I did heare him grone :

I, and that Tongue of his, that bad the Romans
Marke him, and write his Speeches in their Bookes,
Alas, it cried, Give me some drinke Titinius,

As a sicke Girle: Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the Majesticke world,
And beare the Palme alone,

Bru. Another generall shout?

Shout.

Flourish.

I do beleeve, that these applauses are

For some new Honors, that are heap'd on Casar.

Cassi. Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world