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.
Beware the ides of March.
What man is that?
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Beware the ides of March. Keep your wits about you. I know I will on this gloomy, rainy, icky day. So sad that I have to go to a funeral today too.