In his final days, the herds of horses, as he found out, which he had dedicated to the river Rubicon when he crossed it, and had let loose without a keeper, stubbornly refused to graze and wept copiously. Again, when he was offering sacrifice, the soothsayer Spurinna warned him to beware of danger, which would come not later than the Ides of March; and on the day before the Ides of that month a little bird, the king-wren, with a sprig of laurel, flew into the Hall of Pompey pursued by others of various kinds from the nearest grove, which tore it to pieces in the same place.
In fact the very night when the day of his murder began to dawn he dreamt now that he was flying above the clouds, and now that he was clasping the hand of Jupiter; and his wife Calpurnia thought that the pediment of their house fell, and that her husband was stabbed in her arms; and suddenly the door of the room flew open of its own accord.
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