Yes, you are.
    O Cassius, if you could
    But win the noble Brutus to our party-
  CASSIUS. Be you content. 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.
    Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?
  CINNA. All but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone
    To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie
    And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
  CASSIUS. That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre.
                                                     Exit Cinna.
    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.
  CASCA. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts,
    And that which would appear offense in us,
    His countenance, like richest alchemy,
    Will change to virtue and to worthiness.
  CASSIUS. Him and his worth and our great need of him
    You have right well conceited. Let us go,
    For it is after midnight, and ere day
    We will awake him and be sure of him. Exeunt.

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ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter Brutus in his orchard.

  BRUTUS. What, Lucius, ho!
    I cannot, by the progress of the stars,
    Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say!
    I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
    When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! What, Lucius!

Enter Lucius.

  LUCIUS. Call'd you, my lord?
  BRUTUS. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius.
    When it is lighted, come and call me here.
  LUCIUS. I will, my lord. Exit.
  BRUTUS. It must be by his death, and, for my part,
    I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
    But for the general. He would be crown'd:
    How that might change his nature, there's the question.
    It is the bright day that brings forth the adder
    And that craves wary walking. Crown him that,
    And then, I grant, we put a sting in him
    That at his will he may do danger with.
    The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
    Remorse from power, and, to speak truth of Caesar,
    I have not known when his affections sway'd
    More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof
    That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
    Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
    But when he once attains the upmost round,
    He then unto the ladder turns his back,
    Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
    By which he did ascend. So Caesar may;
    Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
    Will bear no color for the thing he is,
    Fashion it thus, that what he is, augmented,
    Would run to these and these extremities;
    And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
    Which hatch'd would as his kind grow mischievous,
    And kill him in the shell.

Re-enter Lucius.

  LUCIUS. The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
    Searching the window for a flint I found
    This paper thus seal'd up, and I am sure
    It did not lie there when I went to bed.
                                           Gives him the letter.
  BRUTUS. Get you to bed again, it is not day.
    Is not tomorrow, boy, the ides of March?
  LUCIUS. I know not, sir.
  BRUTUS.