Yet I fear him; For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar⁠—

Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him: If he love Caesar, all that he can do Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar: And that were much he should; for he is given To sports, to wildness and much company.

There is no fear in him: let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. Clock strikes.

But it is doubtful yet, Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no; For he is superstitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies: It may be, these apparent prodigies, The unaccustom’d terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers, May hold him from the Capitol to-day.