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       BRUTUS.

       A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.

       CAESAR.

       Set him before me; let me see his face.

       CASSIUS.

       Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

       CAESAR.

       What say’st thou to me now? Speak once again.

       SOOTHSAYER.

       Beware the Ides of March.

       CAESAR.

       He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass.

       [Sennet. Exeunt all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS.]

       CASSIUS.

       Will you go see the order of the course?

       BRUTUS.

       Not I.

       CASSIUS.

       I pray you, do.

       BRUTUS.

       I am not gamesome; I do lack some part

       Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

       Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;

       I’ll leave you.

       CASSIUS.

       Brutus, I do observe you now of late:

       I have not from your eyes that gentleness

       And show of love as I was wont to have:

       You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

       Over your friend that loves you.

       BRUTUS.

       Cassius,

       Be not deceived: if I have veil’d my look,

       I turn the trouble of my countenance

       Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

       Of late with passions of some difference,

       Conceptions only proper to myself,

       Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors;

       But let not therefore my good friends be grieved—

       Among which number, Cassius, be you one—

       Nor construe any further my neglect,

       Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

       Forgets the shows of love to other men.

       CASSIUS.

       Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

       By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

       Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

       Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

       BRUTUS.

       No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

       But by reflection, by some other thing.

       CASSIUS.

       ‘Tis just:

       And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

       That you have no such mirrors as will turn

       Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

       That you might see your shadow. I have heard

       Where many of the best respect in Rome,—

       Except immortal Caesar!— speaking of Brutus,

       And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

       Have wish’d that noble Brutus had his eyes.

       BRUTUS.

       Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

       That you would have me seek into myself

       For that which is not in me?

       CASSIUS.

       Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear;

       And since you know you cannot see yourself

       So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

       Will modestly discover to yourself

       That of yourself which you yet know not of.

       And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus;

       Were I a common laugher, or did use

       To stale with ordinary oaths my love

       To every new protester; if you know

       That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard

       And after scandal them; or if you know

       That I profess myself, in banqueting,

       To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

       [Flourish and shout.]

       BRUTUS.

       What means this shouting? I do fear the people

       Choose Caesar for their king.

       CASSIUS.

       Ay, do you fear it?

       Then must I think you would not have it so.

       BRUTUS.

       I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well,

       But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

       What is it that you would impart to me?

       If it be aught toward the general good,

       Set honor in one eye and death i’ the other

       And I will look on both indifferently;

       For let the gods so speed me as I love

       The name of honor more than I fear death.

       CASSIUS.

       I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

       As well as I do know your outward favor.

       Well, honor is the subject of my story.

       I cannot tell what you and other men

       Think of this life; but, for my single self,

       I had as lief not be as live to be

       In awe of such a thing as I myself.

       I was born free as Caesar; so were you:

       We both have fed as well; and we can both

       Endure the winter’s cold as well as he:

       For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

       The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

       Caesar said to me, “Darest thou, Cassius, now

       Leap in with me into this angry flood

       And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,

       Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

       And bade him follow: so indeed he did.

       The torrent roar’d, and we did buffet it

       With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

       And stemming it with hearts of controversy;

       But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

       Caesar cried, “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!

       I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

       Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

       The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

       Did I the tired Caesar: and this man

       Is now become a god; and Cassius is

       A wretched creature, and must bend his body,

       If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

       He had a fever when he was in Spain;

       And when the fit was on him I did mark

       How he did shake: ‘tis true, this god did shake:

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