[Scene iv. Another part of the same street, before the bouse of Brutus.]

Enter Portia and Lucius.

Por. I prythee Boy, run to the Senate-house, Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone.

Why doest thou stay?

Luc. To know my errand Madam.

Por. I would have had thee there and heere agen Ere I can tell thee what thou should'st do there: O Constancie, be strong upon my side,

10

Set a huge Mountaine 'tweene my Heart and Tongue:
I have a mans minde, but a womans might:
How hard it is for women to keepe counsell.
Art thou heere yet?

Luc. Madam, what should I do?

Run to the Capitoll, and nothing else?

And so returne to you, and nothing else?

Por. Yes, bring me word Boy, if thy Lord look well, For he went sickly forth: and take good note What Cæsar doth, what Sutors presse to him. Hearke Boy, what noyse is that?

Luc. I heare none Madam.

Por. Prythee listen well:

I heard a bussling Rumor like a Fray,

And the winde brings it from the Capitoll.

Luc. Sooth Madam, I heare nothing.

Enter the Soothsayer.

20

Por. Come hither Fellow, which way hast thou bin? Sooth. At mine owne house, good Lady.

Por. What is't a clocke?

28. a: o'-THEOBALD.

Sooth. About the ninth houre Lady.

30

Por. Is Cæsar yet gone to the Capitoll?

Sooth. Madam not yet, I go to take my stand, To see him passe on to the Capitoll.

Por. Thou hast some suite to Cæsar, hast thou not? Sooth. That I have Lady, if it will please Cæsar To be so good to Cæsar, as to heare me:

I shall beseech him to befriend himselfe.

Por. Why know'st thou any harme's intended towards him?

Sooth. None that I know will be,

Much that I feare may chance:

Good morrow to you: heere the street is narrow:
The throng that followes Cæsar at the heeles,
Of Senators, of Prætors, common Sutors,
Will crowd a feeble man (almost) to death:
Ile get me to a place more voyd, and there
Speake to great Cæsar as he comes along.
Por. I must go in:

Aye me! How weake a thing

The heart of woman is? O Brutus,
The Heavens speede thee in thine enterprize.
Sure the Boy heard me: Brutus hath a suite
That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint:
Run Lucius, and commend me to my Lord,
Say I am merry; Come to me againe,

40

Exit

50

And bring me word what he doth say to thee. Exeunt

37-8. verse-POPE.

39-40. I 1.-POPE.

47-8. 1 1.-RowE.

Actus Tertius.

[Scene i. Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above.]

Flourish.

Enter [a crowd of people,] Cæsar, Brutus, Cassius,
Caska, Decius, Metellus, Tre- | bonius, Cynna,
Tre-bonius,
Antony, Lepidus, [Popilius] Artimedorus, Pub-|
lius, and the Soothsayer.

Cas. [To the Soothsayer] The Ides of March are

come.

Sooth. I Casar, but not gone.

Art. Haile Caesar: Read this Scedule.

Deci. Trebonius doth desire you to ore-read (At your best leysure) this his humble suite.

ΙΟ

Art. O Casar, reade mine first: for mine's a suite That touches Casar neerer. Read it great Cæsar. Cas. What touches us our selfe, shall be last serv'd. Art. Delay not Cæsar, read it instantly. Cas. What, is the fellow mad?

Pub. Sirra, give place.

Cassi. What, urge you your Petitions in the street? Come to the Capitoll.

[Casar goes to the Senate-House, the rest following.] Popil. I wish your enterprize to day may thrive. Cassi. What enterprize Popillius?

Popil. Fare you well.

20

[Advances to Cæsar.]

Bru. What said Popillius Lena?

Cassi. He wisht to day our enterprize might thrive:

I feare our purpose is discovered.

Bru. Looke how he makes to Cæsar: marke him. Artimedorus: misprint IF.

Cassi. Caska be sodaine, for we feare prevention. Brutus what shall be done? If this be knowne, Cassius or Cæsar never shall turne backe,

For I will slay my selfe.

Bru. Cassius be constant:

Popillius Lena speakes not of our purposes,

30

For looke he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change.
Cassi. Trebonius knowes his time: for look you Brutus
He drawes Mark Antony out of the way.

[Exeunt Antony and Trebonius.]

Deci. Where is Metellus Cimber, let him go, And presently preferre his suite to Cæsar.

Bru. He is addrest: presse neere, and second him. Cin. Caska, you are the first that reares your hand. Cas. Are we all ready? What is now amisse, That Caesar and his Senate must redresse?

40

Metel. Most high, most mighty, and most puisant Cæsar Metellus Cymber throwes before thy Seate An humble heart. [Kneeling.]

Cas. I must prevent thee Cymber:

1 crouchings

These couchings,1 and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turne pre-Ordinance, and first Decree
Into the lane of Children. Be not fond,

To thinke that Casar beares such Rebell blood
That will be thaw'd from the true quality

50

With that which melteth Fooles, I meane sweet words,

Low-crooked-curtsies, and base Spaniell fawning:

Thy Brother by decree is banished:

If thou doest bend, and pray, and fawne for him, spurne thee like a Curre out of my way:

I

Know, Cæsar doth not wrong, nor without cause
Will he be satisfied.

48. lane: law-MALONE.

Metel. Is there no voyce more worthy then my owne, To sound more sweetly in great Cæsars eare, For the repealing of my banish'd Brother?

Bru. I kisse thy hand, but not in flattery Cæsar:
Desiring thee, that Publius Cymber may
Have an immediate freedome of repeale.
Cas. What Brutus?

Cassi. Pardon Cæsar: Cæsar pardon:
As lowe as to thy foote doth Cassius fall,
To begge infranchisement for Publius Cymber.

Cas. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you,
If I could pray to moove, Prayers would moove me:
But I am constant as the Northerne Starre,
Of whose true fixt, and resting quality,
There is no fellow in the Firmament.

The Skies are painted with unnumbred sparkes,
They are all Fire, and every one doth shine:
But, there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So, in the World; 'Tis furnish'd well with Men,
And Men are Flesh and Blood, and apprehensive;
Yet in the number, I do know but One
That unassayleable holds on his Ranke,
Unshak'd of Motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little shew it, even in this:

That I was constant Cymber should be banish'd,
And constant do remaine to keepe him so.
Cinna. O Cæsar.

Cas. Hence: Wilt thou lift up Olympus?

Decius. Great Cæsar.

Cas. Doth not Brutus bootlesse kneele?

Cask. Speake hands for me.

60

70

80

They [Casca first, then the other Conspirators and Marcus Brutus] stab Cæsar. | -Then fall Cæsar. Dyes

Cas. Et Tu Brutè?