Enter Caesar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flauius.
Cask. Peace ho, Caesar speakes
Calp. Heere my Lord
Caes. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, When he doth run his course. Antonio
Ant. Cæsar, 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
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
Cassi. 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: Passe.
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 leaue you
Cassi. 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. Cassius, 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 passions 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 Cassius 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
Cassi. Then Brutus, I haue 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 face? Brutus. No Cassius: For the eye sees not it selfe but by reflection, By some other things
Cassius. '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 Noble Brutus had his eyes
Bru. Into what dangers, would you Leade me Cassius? 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 Glasse, 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.