CAESAR: Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry ‘Caesar!’ Speak;
Caesar is turn’d to hear.
SOOTHSAYER: Beware the ides of March.
CAESAR: What man is that?
BRUTUS: A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
CAESAR: Set him before me; let me see his face.
CASSIUS: Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.
CAESAR: What say’st thou to me now? speak once again.
SOOTHSAYER: Beware the ides of March.
CAESAR: He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
Shakespeare, Julius Ceasar