LUCIUS. I know not, sir. 

BRUTUS. Look in the calendar, and bring me word. 

LUCIUS. I will, sir. 

 [Exit.]

BRUTUS. The exhalations, whizzing in the air Give so much light that I may read by them. 

 [Opens the letter and reads.]

 Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake and see thyself. Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress! “Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake!” Such instigations have been often dropp’d Where I have took them up. “Shall Rome, &c.” Thus must I piece it out: Shall Rome stand under one man’s awe? What, Rome? My ancestors did from the streets of Rome The Tarquin drive, when he was call’d a king. “Speak, strike, redress!” Am I entreated To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise, If the redress will follow, thou receivest Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. 

 Enter Lucius.

Lucius

LUCIUS. Sir, March is wasted fifteen days. 

 [Knock within.]

BRUTUS. ’Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks. 

 [Exit Lucius.]

Lucius

Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection. 

 Enter Lucius.

Lucius

LUCIUS. Sir, ’tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you. 

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