LITMIR.BIZ

ACT III.

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting.

       [A crowd of people in the street leading to the Capitol, among

       them Artemidorus and the Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter Caesar,

       Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna,

       Antony, Lepidus, Popilius, Publius, and others.]

       CAESAR.

       The Ides of March are come.

       SOOTHSAYER.

       Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

       ARTEMIDORUS.

       Hail, Caesar! read this schedule.

       DECIUS.

       Trebonius doth desire you to o’er-read,

       At your best leisure, this his humble suit.

       ARTEMIDORUS.

       O Caesar, read mine first; for mine’s a suit

       That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar.

       CAESAR.

       What touches us ourself shall be last served.

       ARTEMIDORUS.

       Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly.

       CAESAR.

       What, is the fellow mad?

       PUBLIUS.

       Sirrah, give place.

       CASSIUS.

       What, urge you your petitions in the street?

       Come to the Capitol.

       [Caesar enters the Capitol, the rest following. All the Senators rise.]

       POPILIUS.

       I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.

       CASSIUS.

       What enterprise, Popilius?

       POPILIUS.

       Fare you well.

       Advances to Caesar.

       BRUTUS.

       What said Popilius Lena?

       CASSIUS.

       He wish’d to-day our enterprise might thrive.

       I fear our purpose is discovered.

       BRUTUS.

       Look, how he makes to Caesar: mark him.

       CASSIUS.

       Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.—

       Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,

       Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back,

       For I will slay myself.

       BRUTUS.

       Cassius, be constant:

       Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes;

       For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.

       CASSIUS.

       Trebonius knows his time, for, look you, Brutus,

       He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

       [Exeunt Antony and Trebonius. Caesar and the Senators take their seats.]

       DECIUS.

       Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go,

       And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.

       BRUTUS.

       He is address’d; press near and second him.

       CINNA.

       Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

       CASCA.

       Are we all ready?

       CAESAR.

       What is now amiss

       That Caesar and his Senate must redress?

       METELLUS.

       Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,

       Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat

       An humble heart.

       [Kneeling.]

       CAESAR.

       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 Caesar bears such rebel blood

       That will be thaw’d from the true quality

       With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,

       Low-crooked curtsies, 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.

       METELLUS.

       Caesar, thou dost me wrong.

       CAESAR.

       Caesar did never wrong but with just cause,

       Nor without cause will he be satisfied.

       METELLUS.

       Is there no voice more worthy than my own,

       To sound more sweetly in great Caesar’s ear

       For the repealing of my banish’d brother?

       BRUTUS.

       I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar;

       Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may

       Have an immediate freedom of repeal.

       CAESAR.

       What, Brutus?

       CASSIUS.

       Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon:

       As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,

       To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

       CAESAR.

       I could be well moved, 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

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