Page:Julius Caesar (1919) Yale.djvu/16

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These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

Cæs. Calpurnia! Casca. Peace, ho! Cæsar speaks.

[Music ceases.]

Cæs. Calpurnia!

Cal. Here, my lord.

Cæs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way When he doth run his course. Antonius!

Ant. Cæsar, my lord.

Cæs. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse.

Ant. I shall remember: When Cæsar says 'Do this,' it is perform'd.

Cæs. Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

Sooth. Cæsar!

Cæs. Ha! Who calls?  77 pitch: height, as of a hawk's flight  6 in speed: as you run 9 sterile curse: affliction of barrenness 11 Set on: proceed, advance 