BRUTUS.
Get you to bed again; it is not day.
Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March?

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.--