And Decius makes his words good.
In like manner he fancies that he possesses an insight that reads men’s souls at a glance. When he hears the cry: “Beware the Ides of March,” he gives the command, “Set him before me; let me see his face.” A moment’s inspection is enough: “He is a dreamer: let us leave him: pass” (i. ii. 24). Yet he fails to read the treachery of the conspirators, though they are daily about him, consults with Decius whom he “loves,” and bids Trebonius be near him.
And then he elects to pose as no less immovable in resolution than infallible in judgment. When we have been witnesses of all his vacillation and shilly-shally about attending the senate meeting—now he would, now he would not, and again he would—it is hard to suppress the jeer at the high-sounding words:
I could be well moved, if I were as you:
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber’d sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine,