But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,
What rubbish and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Cæsar! But, O grief,
Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this
Before a willing bondman; then I know
My answer must be made. But I am armed,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

Casca. You speak to Casca, and to such a man

That is no fleering tell-tale.

Hold, my hand:

Be factious for redress of all these griefs,

And I will set this foot of mine as far

As who goes farthest.

Cas.

110

Now know you, Casca, I have moved already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans
To undergo with me an enterprise

Of honorable-dangerous consequence;
And I do know, by this they stay for me

In Pompey's porch°: for now, this fearful night,
There is no stir or walking in the streets;

And the complexion of the element

In favor°'s like the work we have in hand,
Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

Enter CINNA

130

Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

Cas. 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;

He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so?
Cin. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus

Cimber?

Cas. No, it is Casca; one incorporate

To our attempts. Am I not stayed for, Cinna?

Cin. I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. Cas. Am I not stayed for? tell me. Cin.

O Cassius, if you could

But win the noble Brutus to our party

Yes, you are.

140

Cas. Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper,° And look you lay it in the prætor's chair,

Where Brutus may but find it, and throw this
In at his window; set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

Cin. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

150

[Exit CINNA.

Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day See Brutus at his house: three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire

Upon the next encounter yields him ours.

Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts; And that which would appear offence in us His countenance, like richest alchemy,°

Will change to virtue and to worthiness.

160

Cas. Him and his worth and our great need of him You have right well conceited.

For it is after midnight; and ere day

Let us go,

[Exeunt

We will awake him and be sure of him.

ACT II

SCENE I. Rome. BRUTUS's orchard°

Enter BRUTUS

Bru. What, Lucius, ho!

I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say!

I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.

When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius!

Enter LUCIUS

Luc. Called you, my lord?

Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:

When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc. I will, my lord.

[Exit.

Bru. It must be by his death: and for my part, 10

I know no personal cause to spurn° at him,

But for the general. He would be crowned:

How that might change his nature, there's the question:

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?-that;-
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections° swayed
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,

20

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: so Cæsar may;

Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel°
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented
Would run to these and these (extremities:
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg

I Which hatched would as his kind grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell.

Re-enter LUCIUS

Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found
This paper, thus sealed up; and, I am sure,
It did not lie there when I went to bed.

30

[Gives him the letter. Bru. Get you to bed again; it is not day. Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?

Luc. I know not, sir.

Bru. Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
Luc. I will, sir.

Bru. The exhalations whizzing in the air
Give so much light that I may read by them.

40

[Exit.

[Opens the letter and reads. "Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself.