Mur. Wherefore reioyce?

What Conquest brings he home?

What Tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles?

You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things: O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft?

Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements, To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops, Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate The liue-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pa.s.se the streets of Rome: And when you saw his Chariot but appeare, Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout, That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes To heare the replication of your sounds, Made in her Concaue Sh.o.r.es?

And do you now put on your best attyre?

And do you now cull out a Holyday?

And do you now strew Flowers in his way, That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood?

Be gone, Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees, Pray to the G.o.ds to intermit the plague That needs must light on this Ingrat.i.tude

Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault a.s.semble 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 Sh.o.r.es of all.

Exeunt. all the Commoners.

See where their basest mettle be not mou'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 Caesars Trophees: Ile about, And driue away the Vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke.

These growing Feathers, pluckt from Caesars wing, Will make him flye an ordinary pitch, Who else would soare aboue the view of men, And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Ca.s.sius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flauius.

Caes. Calphurnia

Cask. Peace ho, Caesar speakes

Caes. Calphurnia

Calp. Heere my Lord

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

Ant. Caesar, my Lord

Caes. Forget not in your speed Antonio, To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say, The Barren touched in this holy chace, Shake off their sterrile curse

Ant. I shall remember, When Caesar sayes, Do this; it is perform'd

Caes. Set on, and leaue no Ceremony out

Sooth. Caesar

Caes. Ha? Who calles?

Cask. Bid euery noyse be still: peace yet againe

Caes. Who is it in the presse, that calles on me?

I heare a Tongue shriller then all the Musicke Cry, Caesar: Speake, Caesar is turn'd to heare

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. What man is that?

Br. A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March Caes. Set him before me, let me see his face

Ca.s.si. Fellow, come from the throng, look vpon Caesar

Caes. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once againe, Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. He is a Dreamer, let vs leaue him: Pa.s.se.

Sennet

Exeunt. Manet Brut. & Ca.s.s.

Ca.s.si. Will you go see the order of the course?

Brut. Not I

Ca.s.si. 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 Ca.s.sius your desires; Ile leaue you

Ca.s.si. Brutus, I do obserue you now of late: I haue not from your eyes, that gentlenesse And shew of Loue, as I was wont to haue: You beare too stubborne, and too strange a hand Ouer your Friend, that loues you

Bru. Ca.s.sius, Be not deceiu'd: If I haue veyl'd my looke, I turne the trouble of my Countenance Meerely vpon my selfe. Vexed I am Of late, with pa.s.sions of some difference, Conceptions onely proper to my selfe, Which giue some soyle (perhaps) to my Behauiours: But let not therefore my good Friends be greeu'd (Among which number Ca.s.sius be you one) Nor construe any further my neglect, Then that poore Brutus with himselfe at warre, Forgets the shewes of Loue to other men

Ca.s.si. Then Brutus, I haue much mistook your pa.s.sion, By meanes whereof, this Brest of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy Cogitations.

Tell me good Brutus, Can you see your face?

Brutus. No Ca.s.sius: For the eye sees not it selfe but by reflection, By some other things

Ca.s.sius. 'Tis iust, And it is very much lamented Brutus, That you haue no such Mirrors, as will turne Your hidden worthinesse into your eye, That you might see your shadow: I haue heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome, (Except immortall Caesar) speaking of Brutus, And groaning vnderneath this Ages yoake, Haue wish'd, that n.o.ble Brutus had his eyes

Bru. Into what dangers, would you Leade me Ca.s.sius?

That you would haue 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 Gla.s.se, Will modestly discouer to your selfe That of your selfe, which you yet know not of.

And be not iealous on me, gentle Brutus: Were I a common Laughter, or did vse To stale with ordinary Oathes my loue To euery 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.

Flourish, and Shout.

Bru. What meanes this Showting?

I do feare, the People choose Caesar For their King

Ca.s.si. I, do you feare it?

Then must I thinke you would not haue it so

Bru. I would not Ca.s.sius, yet I loue 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 G.o.ds so speed mee, as I loue The name of Honor, more then I feare death