the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint. Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; Say I am merry: come to me again, And bring me word what he doth say to thee. The ides of March are come. Ay, Caesar; but not gone. Hail, Caesar! read this schedule. Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread, At your best leisure, this his humble suit. O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar. What touches us ourself shall be last served. Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. What, is the fellow mad? Sirrah, give place. What, urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol. I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive. What enterprise, Popilius? Fare you well. What said Popilius Lena? He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered. Look, how he makes to Caesar; mark him. 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. Cassius, be constant: Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus. He draws Mark Antony out of the way. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. He is address'd: press near and second him. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. Are we all ready? What is now amiss That Caesar and his senate must redress? Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart,-- 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 court'sies 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. Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied. 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? I kiss thy hand, but not in