1 Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.
2 Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness.
3 Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
4 Brutus hath a suit That Caesar will not grant.
5 Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanc'd.
6 Ay, Casca, tell us what hath chanc'd today, That Caesar looks so sad.
7 If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
8 No, Caesar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness.
9 Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy As that same ague which hath made you lean.
10 As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note today.
11 Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
12 With courtesy and with respect enough, But not with such familiar instances, Nor with such free and friendly conference, As he hath us'd of old.
13 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.
14 So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seem'd too much enkindled; and withal Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
15 Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs forever; common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
16 If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him, and be resolv'd How Caesar hath deserv'd to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead So well as Brutus living; but will follow The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus Thorough the hazards of this untrod state, With all true faith.
17 A lioness hath whelped in the streets, And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol; The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.
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