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Sooth. None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance.

Good-morrow to you.
Here the street is narrow:
The throng that follows Cæsar at the heels,
Of senators, of prætors, common suitors,
Will croud a feeble man almost to death:
I'll get me to a place more void, and there
Speak to great Cæsar as he comes along.

[Exit.

Por. I must go in. Ah me! how weak a thing The heart of woman is! O Brutus!

The heavens speed thee in thine enterprize!
Sure, the boy heard me : Brutus hath a suit,
That Cæsar will not grant. - 0, I grow faint :
Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord;
Say, I am merry: come to me again,

And bring me word what he doth say to thee.

ACT THE THIRD,

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

The Capitol; the Senate sitting.

A Crowd of People in the Street leading to the
Capitol: among them ARTEMIDORUS, and the
Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CESAR, BRUTUS,
CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, METELLUS, TREBO-
NIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POPILIUS,
PUBLIUS, and Others.

Cæs. The ides of March are come.
Sooth. Ay, Cæsar; but not gone.

Art. Hail, Cæsar! Read this schedule..

At

Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read, your best leisure, this his humble suit.

Art. O, Cæsar, read mine first; for mine's a suit That touches Cæsar nearer: Read it, great Cæsar. Cas. What touches us ourself, shall be last

serv'd.

Art. Delay not, Cæsar; read it instantly.
Cas. What, is the fellow mad?

Pub.

Sirrah, give place.

Cas. What, urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol.

CESAR enters the Capitol, the rest following.
All the Senators rise.

Pop. I wish, your enterprize to-day may thrive.
Cas. What enterprize, Popilius?

Pop.

-Fare you well.

[Advances to CÆSAR.

Bru. What said Popilius Lena?

Cas. He wish'd, to-day our enterprize might thrive.

I fear, our purpose is discovered.

Bru. Look, how he makes to Cæsar: Mark him. Cas. Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Cæsar never shall turn back,

For I will slay myself.

Bru.

Cassius, be constant:

Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes;

For, look, he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change. Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus,

He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

[Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS. CÆSAR and the Senators take their Seats.

Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar.

Bru. He is address'd: press near, and second

him.

Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

Cæs. Are we all ready? what is now amiss, That Cæsar, and his senate must redress?

Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant

Cæsar,

Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat

An humble heart:

[Kneeling.

Cæs. I must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings, and these lowly courtesies, Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance, and first decree, Into the law of children. Be not fond, To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood, That will be thaw'd from the true quality With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet

words,

Low-crooked curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished;

If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.

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

Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my

own,

To sound more sweetly in great Cæsar's ear,
For the repealing of my banish'd brother?

Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæsar; Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may

Have an immediate freedom of repeal.

Cæs. What, Brutus !

Cas.

Pardon, Cæsar; Cæsar, pardon: As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,

To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

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Cæs. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me : But I am constant as the northern star,

Of whose true fix'd, and resting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
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 unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshak'd of motion": and, that I am he,
Let me a little show it, even in this;

That I was constant, Cimber should be banish'd,
And constant do remain to keep him so.

Cin. O Cæsar,

Cæs.

Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus?

Dec. Great Cæsar,

Cæs.

Doth not Brutus bootless' kneel? Casca. Speak, hands, for me.

[CASCA stabs CESAR in the Neck. CESAR catches hold of his Arm. He is then stabbed by several other Conspirators, and at last by MARCUS Brutus.

Cæs. Et tu, Brute? Then, fall, Cæsar. [Dies. The Senators and People retire in confusion.

Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!

Bru. People, and senators! be not affrighted; Fly not; stand still: - ambition's debt is paid. Casca. Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

Dec.

5 Intelligent.

And Cassius too.

6 Solicitation.
8 And thou, Brutus?

7 Unsuccessfully.

Bru. Where's Publius?

Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend of Cæsar's

Should chance

Bru. Talk not of standing; Publius, good

cheer;

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There is no harm intended to your person,
Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.
Cas. And leave us, Publius; lest that the people,
Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.
Bru. Do so; - and let no man abide this deed,
But we the doers.

Re-enter TREBONIUS.

Cas. Where's Antony?

Tre.

Fled to his house amaz'd:

Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run, As it were doomsday.

Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures: That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
So are we Cæsar's friends, that have abridg'd
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,
And let us bathe our hands in Cæsar's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place:
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, Peace! Freedom! and Liberty!
Cas. Stoop then, and wash. How many ages
hence,

Shall this our lofty scene be acted over,
In states unborn, and accents yet unknown!
Bru. How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's basis lies along,

No worthier than the dust!

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