1 Exeunt all but Brutus and Cassius.
2 If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, He should not humour me.
3 I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.
4 I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour.
5 Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it.
6 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.
7 Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
8 Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
9 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.
10 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.
11 It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; And could it work so much upon your shape As it hath much prevail'd on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus.
12 Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us.
13 Enter, in procession, with music, Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius and Casca; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer.
14 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.
15 Y have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supper, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across; And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd upon me with ungentle looks.
16 Good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the praetor'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.
17 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.
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