it to him again; then he put it by again, but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time: he put it the third time by; and still as he refused it, the rabblement hooted, and clapped their chapped hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath, because Cæsar refused the crown, that it had almost choked Cæsar; for he swooned, and fell down at it. And for mine own part I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips, and receiving the bad air. Cas. But, soft, I pray you. What! did Cæsar swoon? Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless. Bru. 'Tis very like he hath the falling-sickness. Cas. No, Cæsar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness. Casca. I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure, Cæsar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him, and hiss him, according as he pleased, and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man. Bru. What said he, when he came unto himself? Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and offered them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues: and so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, if he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts. But there's no heed to be taken of them: if Cæsar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. Bru. And after that, he came thus sad away? Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again but those, that understood him, smiled at one another, and shook their heads; but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news, too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Cæsar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well: there was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. Cas. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca? Casca. No, I am promised forth. Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow? Casca. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating. Bru. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be. He was quick mettle when he went to school. Cas. So is he now, in execution Of any bold or noble enterprize, This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words [Exit CASCA. Bru. And so it is. For this time I will leave you: - till then, think of the world. Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, [Exit BRUTUS. That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely And, after this, let Cæsar seat him sure, For we will shake him, or worse days endure. [Exit. SCENE III. The Same. A Street. Thunder and Lightning. Enter, from opposite sides, Casca, with his Sword drawn, and Cicero. Cic. Good even, Casca. Brought you Cæsar home? Why are you breathless, and why stare you so? Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O, Cicero! I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderful? Casca. A common slave (you know him well by sight) Held up his left hand, which did flame, and burn Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand, Who glar'd upon me, and went surly by, Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw Hooting, and shrieking. When these prodigies แ These are their reasons, they are natural;" Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: Casca. He doth; for he did bid Antonius Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this? Casca. Who ever knew the heavens menace so? Cas. Those that have known the earth so full of faults. And, when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open The breast of heaven, I did present myself Even in the aim and very flash of it. Casca. But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? It is the part of men to fear and tremble, When the most mighty gods by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. Cas. You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of life, That should be in a Roman, you do want, Or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze, And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder, Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night; That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars A man no mightier than thyself, or me, In personal action; yet prodigious grown, And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. Casca. 'Tis Cæsar that you mean; is it not, Cassius? Have thewes and limbs like to their ancestors; But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead, Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. Casca. Indeed, they say, the senators to-morrow Mean to establish Cæsar as a king: And he shall wear his crown by sea, and land, In every place, save here in Italy. Cas. I know where I will wear this dagger, then; Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, |