Cicero: Good evening Casca, brought you Caesar home?
Why are you so breathless? And why stare you so?
Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth
Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,
I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
Have rived the knotty oaks; and I have seen
Th’ ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam,
To be exalted with the threatening clouds:
But never till tonight, never till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Either there is a civil strife in heaven,
Or else the world too saucy with the gods,
Incenses them to send destruction.
Why, saw you anything more wonderful?
A common slave—you’d know him well by sight—
Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn
Like twenty torches join’d, and yet his hand
Not sensible of fire remain’d unscorch’d.
Besides,—I ha’ not since put up my sword,—
Against the Capitol I met a lion,