And for thy humour, I will ftay at home. Caf. And you are come in very happy time, And tell them that I will not come to-day: Caf. Shall Cæfar fend a lie? Have I in conqueft ftretcht mine arm so far, Dec. Moft mighty Cafar, let me know fome cause, Caf. The caufe is in my will, I will not come ; That is enough to fatisfie the Senate. But for your private fatisfaction, Because I love you, I will let you know. Your ftatue fpouting blood in many pipes, Caf. And this way have you well expounded it. To To give this day a crown to mighty Cæfar. you Their minds may change. Befides, it were a mock When Cæfar's wife fhall meet with better dreams : Pardon me, Cafar, for my dear dear love Caf. How foolish do your fears seem now, Calphurnia! I am afhamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go : Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Cafca, Trebonius, Cinna and Publius. And look where Publius is come to fetch me. Pub. Good-morrow, Cæfar. Caf. Welcome, Publius. What, Brutus, are you ftirr'd fo early too? As that fame ague which hath made you lean. Bru. Cæfar, 'tis ftrucken eight. Caf. I thank you for your pains and courtefie. See Antony, that revels long a-nights, Is notwithstanding up. Good-morrow, Antony. Caf. Bid them prepare within: I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Cinna; now, Metellus; what, Trebonius! Treb. Cafar, I will; and fo near will I be, [Afide, That your best friends fhall wish I had been further. And And we, like friends, will ftraightway go together. SCENE VII The Street. Enter Artemidorus reading a paper. Cæfar, beware of Brutus, take heed of Caffius, come not near Cafca, bave an eye to Cinna, truft not Trebonius, mark well Metellus Cimber, Decimius Brutus loves thee not; thou baft wrong'd Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent against Cæfar. If thou beeft not immortal, look about thee: fecurity gives way to confpiracy. The mighty Gods defend thee! Thy lover Artemidorus. My heart laments that virtue cannot live If thou read this, O Cæfar, thou may'st live; Enter Portia and Lucius. Por. I pr'ythee, boy, run to the Senate-house, Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone : Why doft thou stay? Luc. To know my errand, Madam. Por. I would have had thee there, and here again, Ere I can tell thee what thou fhouldít do there.. O conftancy, be ftrong upon my fide, Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue; How hard it is for women to keep counfel! Art thou here yet? Luc. Madam, what should I do? Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? And fo return to you, and nothing else? [Exit. Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy Lord look well, For he went fickly forth: and take good note, What Cæfar doth, what fuitors prefs to him. Hark, boy! what noife is that? Luc. I hear none, Madam. I heard a bustling rumour like a fray, Por. Come hither, fellow, which way haft thou been? Por. What is't a-clock? Art. About the ninth hour, Lady. Por. Is Cæfar yet gone to the Capitol ? Art. Madam, not yet; I go to take my stand, Por. Thou haft fome fuit to Cæfar, haft thou not? To be fo good to Cæfar, as to hear me: I fhall befeech him to defend himself. Por. Why, know'st thou any harm intended tow'rds him? I'll get me to a place more void, and there Por. I muft go in. aye me! how weak a thing And bring me word what he doth fay to thee. ACT III. SCENE I. The Entrance into the Capitol. [Exit. [Exeunt. Flourish. Enter Cæfar, Brutus, Caffius, Cafca, Decimus, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna, Antony, Lepidus, Artemidorus, Popilius, Publius, and the Sooth fayer. Caf. HE Ides of March are come. Art. Hail, Cæfar! read this schedule. Dec. Dec. Trebonius doth defire you to o'er-read, Art. O Cafar, read mine first; for mine's a fuit Pub. Sirrah, give place. Caf. What, urge you your petitions in the street? Pop. I wish your enterprize to-day may thrive. Pop. Fare you well. Bru. What faid Popilius Læna ? Caf. He wish'd to-day our enterprize might thrive: Bru. Look how he makes to Cæfar; mark him. Bru. Caffius, be conftant: you, Brutus, Popilius Lana Speaks not of our purpose ; Bru. He is addreft; prefs near, and fecond him. Met. Moft high, moft mighty, and moft puiffant Cæfar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy feat An humble heart. Caf. I must prevent thee, Cimber; Thefe crouchings and thefe lowly curtefies Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance and firft decree Into the lane of children. Be not fond, [Kneeling. To |