A

And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a 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.

Flav. 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.

60

64

Exeunt all the Commoners.

See whether their basest metal be not mov'd;
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.
Mar. May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flav. It is no matter; let no images

Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too where you perceive them thick.

49 her; cf. n.

53 cull out: choose this as

69 ceremonies: ceremonial trappings

68

72

50 replication: echo

55 Pompey's blood; cf. n. on line 35

71 Lupercal; cf. n.

These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar'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.

76

Exeunt.

Scene Two

[A Public Place]

Enter [in solemn procession, with music] Cæsar, Antony for the course, Calpurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, [a great crowd following, among them] a Soothsayer: after them Marullus and Flavius.

Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way When he doth run his course. Antonius!

Ant. Cæsar, my lord.

Cæs. 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.

I shall remember:

When Cæsar says 'Do this,' it is perform'd.

Cæs. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Music.] Sooth. Cæsar!

Cæs. Ha! Who calls?

77 pitch: height, as of a hawk's flight
9 sterile curse: affliction of barrenness

8

12

6 in... speed: as you run 11 Set on: proceed, advance

Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!
[Music ceases.]

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 turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs.

16

What man is that? Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Cas. Set him before me; let me see his face. 20 Cas. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon

Cæsar.

Cas. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Sooth. Beware the ides of March.

Cæs. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.

24

Sennet. Exeunt all but Brutus and Cassius.

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 28 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:
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.

Bru.

18 ides of March: March fifteenth

Cassius,

24 S. d. Sennet: trumpet signal for procession to move 25 order of the course: progress of the running

28 gamesome: fond of sport

32 do observe: have had occasion to notice

35, 36 handle your friend too stiffly and distantly

32

36

29 quick: lively 33 that: the same

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,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,—

40

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours;

Among which number, Cassius, be you one,-
Nor construe any further my neglect,

44

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

48

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,

52

But by reflection, by some other things.

Cas. '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 Cæsar,-speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

56

60

64

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear;

37 Be not deceiv'd: do not misjudge me 40 of difference: conflicting

39 Merely: altogether 41 proper: belonging, relating 45 construe: read meaning into whereof: because of which mistake 54 just: true, right

42 soil: blemish 49 By

59 respect: standing

62 had...

eyes: had his eyes about him

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.

68

72

76

Flourish, and shout.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the

people

Choose Cæsar for their king.

Cas.

Ay, do you fear it? 80

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,

84

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

88

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

92

71 jealous on: suspicious of

73 stale: make cheap

ordinary: customary

74 protester: loud-mouthed pretender 76 scandal: defame

78 S. d. Flourish: trumpet call 88 speed: favor, prosper

77 profess myself: make protestations 87 indifferently: impartially

91 favour: appearance