Luc. To know my errand, madam. Por. I would have had thee there, and here again, Art thou here yet? Luc. Madam, what should I do? Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? And so return to you, and nothing else? Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, For he went sickly forth: and take good note What Cæsar doth, what suitors press to him. Hark, boy! what noise is that? Luc. I hear none, madam. Por. Prithee, listen well: I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, Enter Soothsayer. Por. Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been? Por. What is't o'clock? Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady. Por. Is Cæsar yet gone to the Capitol? Sooth. Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand, To see him pass on to the Capitol. Por. Thou hast some suit to Cæsar, hast thou not? To be so good to Cæsar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself. Por. Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him? Sooth. None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. Here the street is narrow: Good morrow to you. The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise! I grow faint. Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; And bring me word what he doth say to thee. [Exit. [Exeunt severally. ACT III. SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting. A crowd of people in the street leading to the Capitol; among Cæs. The ides of March are come. Art. Hail, Cæsar! read this schedule. Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read, At your best leisure, this his humble suit. Art. O Cæsar, read mine first; for mine's a suit Pub. Sirrah, give place. Cass. 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 enterprise to-day may thrive. Pop. Bru. What said Popilius Lena? Fare you well. · [Advances to Cæsar. Cass. He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered. Bru. Look, how he makes to Cæsar: mark him. Be sudden, for we fear prevention. Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, For I will slay myself. Popilius Lena speaks not of our purpose; For, look, he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change. [Exeunt Antony and Trebonius. Senators take their seats. Casca, you, Brutus, Cæsar and the 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. Cœs. 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, Cœs. [Kneeling. . To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words, If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him, Know, Cæsar doth not wrong; nor without cause Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own, Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæsar; Cass. Pardon, Cæsar; Cæsar, pardon: As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, Let me a little show it, even in this, That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, Cin. O Cæsar, Cæs. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus? Dec. Great Cæsar, Cas. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? Casca. Speak, hands, for me! Cæs. Et tu, Cæsar catches hold of his arm. He is then stabbed by several other [Dies. The Senators and People retire in confusion. Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. Cass. 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. Where's Publius? And Cassius too. Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Bru. Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius. Cass. And leave us, Publius; lest that the people, Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. Bru. Do so: But we the doers. and let no man abide this deed, Re-enter TREBONIUS. Cass. Where's Antony? Tre. Fled to his house amaz'd: Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, Bru. and run Fates, we will know your pleasures: That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time, Cass. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death. |