Enter Cinna the poet
I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar, And things unlucky charge my fantasy: I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth.
What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor.
That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry: you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly.
It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.
Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands: to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go!