Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day, That Caesar looks so sad.

No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.

What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school.

So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.

And so it is. For this time I will leave you: To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you.