Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. 140

Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us.

Casca. Let us not leave him out.
Cin.

No, by no means.
Met. O let us have him; for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion

145 And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: It shall be said his judgment rul'd our hands; Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity.

149 Bru. O name him not: let us not break with him; For he will never follow anything That other men begin. Cas.

Then leave him out. 152 Casca. Indeed he is not fit. Dec. Shall no man else be touch'd but only Cæsar?

Cas. Decius, well urg'd. I think it is not meet, Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Cæsar, Should outlive Cæsar: we shall find of him A shrewd contriver; and you know, his means, If he improve them, may well stretch so far As to annoy us all; which to prevent, Let Antony and Cæsar fall together. Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cas

sius, To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; 164 For Antony is but a limb of Cæsar. Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar; 150 break with: broach our plan to

156

160 168

176

And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O then that we could come by Cæsar's spirit,
And not dismember Cæsar! But, alas,
Cæsar must bleed for it. And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;

172 Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds: And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up

their servants to an act of rage, And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make Our purpose necessary and not envious; Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. 180 And, for Mark Antony, think not of him; For he can do no more than Cæsar's arm When Cæsar's head is off. Cas.

Yet I fear him; For in the ingrafted love he bears to Cæsar- 184

Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him. If he love Cæsar, all that he can do Is to himself: take thought, and die for Cæsar. And that were much he should, for he is given To sports, to wildness, and much company. 189

Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die: For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

Clock strikes. Bru. Peace! count the clock. Cas.

For he is superstitious grown of late,
Quite from the main opinion he held once

196
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies.
It may be, these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the persuasion of his augurers,

200 May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

Dec. Never fear that: if he be so resolv'd, I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, 204 And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers; But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered. 208 Let me work; For I can give his humour the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol. Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

212 Bru. By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost. Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey: 216 I wonder none of you have thought of him.

Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along by him: He loves me well, and I have given him reasons ; Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. Cas. The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you,

220 224

What you have said, and show yourselves true

Romans.
Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
Let not our looks put on our purposes,
But bear it as our Roman actors do,
With untir'd spirits and formal constancy:
And so good morrow to you every one.

228

Exeunt. Manet Brutus. Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter; Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

233 Enter Portia. Por.

Brutus, my lord! Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you

now? It is not for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. 236 Por. Nor for

yours

neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supper You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across, And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd upon me with ungentle looks. I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot; 244 Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, But with an angry wafture of your

hand Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience

240 252

Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,
And could it work so much upon your shape
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 256

Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.

Por. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it.

Bru. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. 260

Por. Is Brutus sick, and is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humours Of the dank morning? What! is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed 264 To dare the vile contagion of the night, And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air To add unto his sickness ? No, my Brutus; You have some sick offence within your mind, 268 Which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of; and, upon my knees, I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, By all your vows of love, and that great vow 272 Which did incorporate and make us one, That you unfold to me, your self, your half, Why you are heavy, and what men to-night Have had resort to you; for here have been 276 Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness. Bru.