See! Antony, that revels long o’ nights, Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony.

Bid them prepare within: I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius! I have an hour’s talk in store for you; Remember that you call on me to-day: Be near me, that I may remember you.

Caesar, I will: aside and so near will I be, That your best friends shall wish I had been further.

Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me; And we, like friends, will straightway go together.

Aside. That every like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! Exeunt.