Prithee, listen well; I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, And the wind brings it from the Capitol.

Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand, To see him pass on to the Capitol.

That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar To be so good to Caesar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow: The throng that follows Caesar at the heels, Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, Will crowd a feeble man almost to death: I’ll get me to a place more void, and there Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. Exit.