But soft
Thy shivering night thus quicken with haste
Wherefore doth my heart beat with such closeness in mine breast?
Replications of footsteps
Thus heavy of men, of beasts
With an outward favor of demons black as pitch
I Caesar do not fear
Score of men, Score of beasts
Dost thou make mine heart quiver with portents
Blood upon thy moon
Replications of mine warning
“Beware the ides of March,”
Set on mine foot…run, run
Yet I am Caesar
I will not turn withal my pride is not heavy
Thy mighty gods
What suitors press to me?
Thou green with envy
Are you not?
I will not see my final hour
I will not end my breath to such score of men
But soft
They come closer
And withal I am powerful Caesar
I will not fear!
Thy men are gone …I shall leave
Only cowards give place
I turn my back
A sling of blade dost now burry in my skin
Thine red hot juices of my body pour out my back
More, more, constant
Doth this blade find elsewhere comfort in my skin?
Mine blood runs clod
Then fall Caesar