thy selfe,
(As troubled dreames to me did faine thee seene:)
Torne, Wounded, Maymed, Blod-slaughtered, Slaine,
O thou thy selfe, wouldst then haue dread thy selfe: 1600
And feard to thrust thy life to dangers mouth.
_Caes._ There you bewray the folly of your dreame,
For I am well, aliue, vncaught, vntoucht.
_Calphur._ T'was in the Senate-house I sawe thee so,
And yet thou dreadles thither needes will go.
_Caes._ The Senate is a place of peace, not death,
But these were but deluding visions.
_Calphur._ O do not set so little by the heauens,
Dreames ar diuine, men say they come from _Ioue_,
Beware betimes, and bee not wise to late: 1610
Mens good indeuours change the wills of Fate.
_Caes._ Weepe not faire loue, let not thy wofull teares
Bode mee, I knowe what thou wouldest not haue to hap
It will distaine mine honor wonne in fight
To say a womans dreame could me affright.
_Cal._ O _Caesar_ no dishonour canst thou get,
In seeking to preuent vnlucky chance:
Foole-hardy men do runne vpon their death,
Bec thou in this perswaded by thy wife:
No vallour bids thee cast away thy life. 1620
_Caes._ Tis dastard cowardize and childish feare,
To dread those dangers that do not appeare:
_Cal._ Thou must sad chance by fore-cast, wise resist,
Or being done say boote-les had I wist.
_Caes._ But for to feare wher's no suspition,
Will to my greatnesse be derision.
_Cal._ There lurkes an adder in the greenest grasse,
Daungers of purpose alwayes hide their face:
_Caes._ Perswade no more _Caesar's_ resolu'd to go.
_Cal._ The Heauens resolue that hee may safe returne, 1630
For if ought happen to my loue but well:
His danger shalbe doubled with my death. _Exit._

_Enter Augur._

_Augur._ I, come they are, but yet they are not gon.
_Caes._ What hast thou sacrifiz'd, as custome is,
Before wee enter in the Senat-house.
_Augur._ O stay those steeps that leade thee to thy death,
The angry heauens with threeatning dire aspect,
Boding mischance, and balfull massacers,
Menace the ouerthrowe of _Caesars_ powre: 1640
_Saturne_ sits frowning on the God of Warre,
VVho in their sad coniunction do conspire,
Vniting both their bale full in