Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,
    Assemble all the poor men of your sort,
    Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
    Into the channel, till the lowest stream
    Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
                                           Exeunt all Commoners.
    See whether their basest metal be not moved;
    They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
    Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
    This way will I. Disrobe the images
    If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
  MARULLUS. May we do so?
    You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
  FLAVIUS. It is no matter; let no images
    Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about
    And drive away the vulgar from the streets;
    So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
    These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing
    Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,
    Who else would soar above the view of men
    And keep us all in servile fearfulness. Exeunt.

SCENE II. A public place.

Flourish. Enter Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calpurnia,
Portia,
Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a great crowd
follows,
among them a Soothsayer.

  CAESAR. Calpurnia!
  CASCA. Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.
                                                   Music ceases.
  CAESAR. Calpurnia!
  CALPURNIA. Here, my lord.
  CAESAR. Stand you directly in Antonio's way,
    When he doth run his course. Antonio!
  ANTONY. Caesar, my lord?
  CAESAR. Forget not in your speed, Antonio,
    To touch Calpurnia, for our elders say
    The barren, touched in this holy chase,
    Shake off their sterile curse.
  ANTONY. I shall remember.
    When Caesar says "Do this," it is perform'd.
  CAESAR. Set on, and leave no ceremony out. Flourish.
  SOOTHSAYER. Caesar!
  CAESAR. Ha! Who calls?
  CASCA. Bid every noise be still. Peace yet again!
  CAESAR. Who is it in the press that calls on me?
    I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
    Cry "Caesar." Speak, Caesar is turn'd to hear.
  SOOTHSAYER. Beware the ides of March.
  CAESAR. What man is that?
  BRUTUS. A soothsayer 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.