Festival 61. Tonight, the first of this season's two-hour productions.
Hence! Home, you idle creatures, get you home!
Is this a holiday?
What! Know you not, being mechanical, you ought not walk
upon a labouring day without the sign of your profession?
Speak. What trade art thou?
Why, sir, a carpenter.
Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, sir, what trade are you?
A trade, sir, that I hope, I may use with a safe conscience,
which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?
Nay, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow!
Why, sir, cobble you.
Thou art a cobbler.
Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl.
I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters.
But with awl, sir, a surgeon to old shoes;
when they are in great danger, I recover them.
As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.
But wherefore art not in thy shop today?
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work.
But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar
and to rejoice in his triumph. - Wherefore rejoice?
What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
to grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones,
you worse than senseless things!
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
knew you not Pompey?
Many a time and oft have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
to towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
your infants in your arms,
and there have sat the live-long day with patient expectation
to see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his path
that comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone! Run to your houses,
fall upon your knees,
pray to the gods to intermit the plague
that needs must light on this ingratitude.
See where their basest metal be not moved.
They vanish tongue-tied!
Go you down that way toward the Capitol.
This way will I. Disrobe the images if you do find them decked with ceremonies.
May we do so? You know, it is the feast of Lupercal.
It is no matter. Let no images be hung with Caesar's trophies.
Fly about, and drive away the vulgar from the streets.
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers, plucked from Caesar's wing,
will make him fly an ordinary pitch.
Who else would soar above the view of men
and keep us all in servile fearfulness?
- Calpurnia. - Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.
- Calpurnia! - Here, my lord.
Stand you directly in Antonius' way, when he doth run his course.
- Antonius. - Caesar, my lord?
Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, to touch Calpurnia,
for our elders say, the barren touched in this holy chase
shake off their sterile curse.
I shall remember: When Caesar says "do this," it is performed.
Set on and leave no ceremony out!
Caesar!
- Who calls? - Bid every noise be still!
- Peace yet again! - Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, cry "Caesar."
Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.
Beware... the ides... of March.
What man is that?
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Set him before me. Let me see his face.
Fellow, come from the throng.
Look upon Caesar.
What sayest thou to me now? Speak once again.
Beware the ides of March.
He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass!
Will you go see the order of the course?
- Not I. - I pray you do.
I am not gamesome. I do lack some part of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let me not... You Cassius, your go. I'll leave you.
Brutus, I do observe you now of late.
I have not from your eyes that gentleness and show of love as I was wont to have.
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand over your friend that loves you.
Cassius, be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance merely upon myself.
Vexed I am of late, with passions of some difference.
Conceptions only proper to myself,
which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors,
but let not therefore my good friends be grieved,
among which number, Cassius, be you one.
Nor construe any further my neglect than that poor Brutus with himself at war
forgets the shows of love to other men.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself
but by reflection, by some other things.
'Tis just. And it is very much lamented, Brutus, that you have no such mirrors
as will turn your hidden worthiness into your eye,
that you might see your shadow.
Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
to have me seek into myself for that which is not in me?
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear.
And since you know you cannot see yourself so well as by reflection,
I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself
that of yourself which you yet know not of.
What means this shouting?
I do fear the people choose Caesar for their king.
Ay, do you fear it?
Then must I think you would not have it so?
I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it you would impart to me?
I cannot tell what you or other men think of this life,
but, for my single self, I had as lief not be
as live to be in awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Caesar. So were you.
We both have fed as well,
and we can both endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
the troubled Tiber chafing at her shores,
Caesar said to me, "Darest thou, Cassius, now leap in with me
into this angry flood and swim to yonder points?"
Upon the word, accoutered as I was, I plunged in and bade him follow,
so indeed he did.
The torrent roared, and we did buffet it with lusty sinews,
throwing it aside and stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Caesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!"
I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,
did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder the old Anchises bear,
so from the waves of Tiber did I the tired Caesar.
And this man is now become a god,
and Cassius is a wretched creature
and must bend his body if Caesar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
and when the fit was on him, I did mark how he did shake.
It is true, this god did shake. His coward lips did from their color fly,
and that same eye whose bend doth awe the world did lose his luster.
I did hear him groan.
Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
mark him and write his speeches in their books,
alas, it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius," as a sick girl.
Ye gods! It doth amaze me a man of such a feeble temper
should so get the start of the majestic world
and bear the palm alone.
Another general shout.
I do believe that these applauses are
for some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a colossus.
And we petty men walk under his huge legs
and peep about to find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
but in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Caesar.
What should be in that Caesar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name.
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well.
Weigh them, it is as heavy. Conjure with them,
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
Now, in the name of all the gods at once,
upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
that he is grown so great?
Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods.
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
but it was famed with more than for one man?
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,
that her wide walls encompassed but one man?
O you and I have heard our fathers say, there was a Brutus once
that would have brooked the eternal devil
to keep his state in Rome as easily as a king.
What you would work me to, I have some aim.
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter. For this present,
I would not, so with love I might entreat you, be any further moved.
What you have said I will consider.
What you have to say, I will with patience hear, and find a time
both meet to hear and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this.
Brutus had rather be a villager
than to repute himself a son of Rome under these hard conditions
as this time is like to lay upon us.
I am glad that my weak words
have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.
The games are ending and Caesar doth return.
Look you, Cassius, the angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,
and all the rest look like a chidden train.
Calpurnia's cheek is pale.
Casca will tell us what the matter is.
Antonius, let me have men about me that are fat,
sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
Fear him not, Caesar. He is not dangerous.
He is a noble roman, and wealthy.
He loves no plays as thou dost, Antony.
He hears no music. Seldom he smiles.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
whilst they behold a greater than themselves,
and therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be feared than what I fear,
for always I am Caesar.
Come on my left hand, for this ear is deaf,
and tell me truly what thou think'st of him.
- Would you speak with me? - Ay, Casca.
Tell us what hath chanced, that Caesar looks so sad today.
Why, you were with him, were you not?
I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.
Why, there was a crown offered him,
and, being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus,
and then the people fell a-shouting.
- What was the second noise for? - Why, for that too.
They shouted thrice. What was the last cry for?
- Why, for that too. - Was the crown offered him thrice?
Ay, marry, it was, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other,
and with every putting by mine honest neighbors shouted.
- Who offered him the crown? - Why, Antony.
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it.
It was mere foolery. I did not mark it.
I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown.
Yet it was not a crown neither, it was one of those coronets.
And as I told you, he put it by once,
but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it.
Then he offered it to him again, then he put it by again,
but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it.
Then he offered it a third time. He put it a third time by.
And still as he refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands
and threw up their sweaty nightcaps
and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown,
that it had almost choked Caesar for he swounded and fell down at it.
And for mine own part I durst not laugh,
for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
What? Did Caesar swoon?
He fell down in the marketplace, foamed at the mouth and was speechless.
'Tis very like he hath the falling sickness.
No, Caesar hath it not,
but you and I and honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.
I know not what you mean by that, but I am sure Caesar fell down.
What said he when he came unto himself again?
Marry, before he fell down,
when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown,
he pulled me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut.
An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word,
I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell.
When he came to himself again,
he said if he had done or said anything amiss,
he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity.
Three or four wenches where I stood cried, "Alas, good soul,"
and forgave him with all their hearts.
But there's no heed to be taken of them.
If Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.
And after that he came, thus sad, away?
- Ay. - Did Cicero say anything?
- Ay, he spoke Greek. - To what effect?
Nay, an I tell you that, I'll never look you in the face again.
But those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads,
but for mine own part, it was Greek to me.
I could tell you more news, too.
Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarves off Caesar's images, are put to silence.
Fare you well.
There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it.
Will you sup with me tonight, Casca?
No, I am promised forth.
Will you dine with me tomorrow?
Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating.
Good. I will expect you.
Do so. Farewell, both.
What a blunt fellow is this grown to be.
He was quick metal when he went to school.
So is he now in execution of any bold or noble enterprise.
However he puts on this tardy form.
This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
which gives men stomach to digest his words with better appetite.
And so it is. For this time I will leave you.
Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you.
Or, if you will, come home to me, and I will wait for you.
I will do so. Till then, think of the world.
Well, Brutus, thou art noble,
yet I see thy honorable metal may be wrought from that it is disposed.
Therefore, it is meet that noble minds keep ever with their likes,
for who so firm that cannot be seduced?
And after this let Caesar seat him sure,
for we will shake him, or worse days endure.
- Who's there? - A Roman.
Casca, by your voice.
Your ear is good.
Cassius, what night is this!
A very pleasing night to honest men.
Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth shakes like a thing unfirm?
A common slave, you know him well by sight,
held up his left hand,
which did flame and burn like 20 torches joined.
and yet his hand, not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
Upon the Capitol I met a lion, that glared upon me, and went surly by,
Without annoying me.
And yesterday the bird of night did sit, even at noonday, upon the marketplace,
hooting and shrieking.
It is the time for men to fear and tremble,
when the most mighty gods send by tokens
such dreadful heralds to astonish us.
You are dull, Casca,
and those sparks of life that should be in a Roman
you do want, or else you use not.
You look pale and gaze and put on fear and cast yourself in wonder,
to see the strange impatience of the heavens.
But if you would consider the true cause
why all these things change from their ordinance
to monstrous quality, why, you shall find
that heaven hath infused them with these spirits,
to make them instruments of fear and warning
unto some monstrous state.
Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man most like this dreadful night,
that thunders, lightens, opens graves and roars,
as doth the lion in the Capitol.
A man no mightier than thyself or me in personal action,
yet prodigious grown,
and fearful, as these strange eruptions are.
'Tis Caesar that you mean, is it not, Cassius?
Let it be who it is.
Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow mean to establish Caesar as a king.
And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
in every place save here in Italy.
I know where I will wear this dagger, then.
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius.
But I, perhaps, speak this before a willing bondman.
You speak to Casca, and to such a man that is no fleering tell-tale.
Hold my hand.
Be factious for redress of all these griefs,
And I will set this foot of mine as far as who goes farthest.
There's a bargain made!
Here comes one in haste.
'Tis Cinna. He is a friend.
Cinna, where haste you so?
To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?
No, it is Casca, one incorporate to our attempts.
- I am glad on 't. - Am I not stayed for, Cinna?
What a fearful night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.
- Am I not stayed for, tell me? - Yes, you are.
Cassius, if you could but win the noble Brutus to our cause...
Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper,
and look you lay it in the praetor's chair, where Brutus may but find it,
and throw this in at his window, set this up in wax upon old Brutus' statue.
All this done, repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Now, Casca, you and I will yet ere day seek Brutus at his house.
Three parts of him is ours already,
and the man entire upon the next encounter yields him ours.
O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:
And that which would appear offence in us,
his countenance, like richest alchemy,
will change to virtue and to worthiness.
Him and his worth and our great need of him
you have right well conceited. Let us go,
for it is after midnight; and ere day
we will awake him and be sure of him.
I cannot, by the progress of the stars, give guess how near to day.
Lucius.
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! Lucius!
Called you, my lord?
Get me a taper in my study. When it is lighted, come and call me here.
I will, my lord.
It must be by his death,
and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him but for the general.
He would be crowned.
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
For it is the bright day that brings forth the adder,
and that craves wary walking. Crown him. That.
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, that at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
And, to speak truth of Caesar,
I have not known when his affections swayed more than his reason.
But 'tis a common proof that lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
whereto the climber upward turns his back,
but when he once attains the upmost round,
he then unto the ladder turns his back, looks in the clouds,
scorning the base degrees by which he did ascend.
So Caesar may.
Then lest he may, prevent.
Since the quarrel will bear no color for the thing he is, fashion it thus,
that what he is, augmented, would run to these and these extremities.
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,
and kill him in the shell.
The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found this paper thus sealed up,
and I am sure it did not lie there when I went to bed.
Get you to bed boy; it is not day.
Lucius. Is not tomorrow, boy, the ides of March?
I know not, sir.
- Look in the calendar and bring me word. - I will, sir.
"Brutus, thou sleep'st.
"Awake and see thyself. Shall Rome, etcetera."
"Speak, strike, redress!
"Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake!"
Such instigations have been often dropped where I have took them up.
"Shall Rome, etcetera."
Thus must I piece it out.
Shall Rome stand under one man's awe?
What, Rome?
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome the Tarquin drive,
when he was called a king.
O Rome, I make thee promise.
If the redress will follow,
thou receivest thy full petition at the hand of Brutus.
Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.
'Tis good.
Go to the gate. Somebody knocks.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion,
all the interim is like a phantasma, or a hideous dream.
The genius and the mortal instruments are then in council,
and the state of man,
like to a little kingdom, suffers then the nature of an insurrection.
Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door.
Let him enter.
I think we are too bold upon your rest.
Good morrow, Brutus. Do we trouble you?
I have been up this hour, awake all night.
Know I these men that come along with you?
Yes, every man of them.
And no man here but honors you.
And every one doth wish you had but that opinion of yourself
which every noble Roman bears of you.
- This is Decius Brutus. - He is welcome hither.
This, Casca. This, Cinna.
- And this, Metellus Cimber. - They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
betwixt your eyes and the night?
Shall I entreat a word?
Here lies the east. Doth not the day break here?
- No. - O pardon, sir, it doth.
Yon gray lines that fret the clouds are messengers of day.
You shall confess that you are both deceived.
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises,
which is a great way growing on the south, weighing the youthful season of the year.
Some two months hence up higher toward the north
he first presents his fire; and the east stands, as the Capitol, directly here.
- Give me your hands all over, one by one. - And let us swear our resolution.
No, not an oath.
If not the face of men, the sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,
if these be motives weak, break off betimes,
and every man hence to his idle bed.
What need we any spur but our own cause to prick us to redress?
What other bond than secret Romans that have spoke the word and will not palter?
What other oath than honesty to honesty engaged,
that this shall be or we will fall for it?
Shall no man else be touched but only Caesar?
Decius, well urged.
I think it is not meet Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, should outlive Caesar.
We shall find in him a shrewd contriver,
and, you know, his means, if he improve them,
may well stretch so far as to annoy us all,
which to prevent, let Antony and Caesar fall together.
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
to cut the head off and then hack the limbs,
like wrath in death and envy afterwards.
For Antony is but a limb of Caesar.
Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar.
And in the spirit of men there is no blood.
O that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,
and not dismember Caesar. But, alas, Caesar must bleed for it.
And, gentle friends, let's kill him... boldly, but not wrathfully.
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him,
for he can do no more than Caesar's arm when Caesar's head is off.
Yet I do fear him, for the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar.
Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him.
If he love Caesar, all that he can do is to himself.
Take thought and die for Caesar.
And that were much he should, for he is given to sports,
to wildness and much company.
There is no fear in him. Let him not die,
for he will live and laugh at this hereafter.
'Tis time to part.
But it is doubtful yet whether Caesar will come forth today or no,
for he is superstitious grown of late.
Quite from the main opinion he held once of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies.
It may be, these apparent prodigies, the unaccustomed terror of the night,
and the persuasion of his augurers, may hold him from the Capitol today.
Never fear that. If he be so resolved, I can oversway him,
for he loves to hear that unicorns may be betrayed with trees,
lions with toils and men with flatterers.
But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
he says he does, being then most flattered.
Let me work, for I can give his humour the true bent,
and I will bring him to the Capitol.
Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost?
Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.
Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
who rated him for speaking well of Pompey.
I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Now, good Metellus, go along by him. He loves me well,
and I have given him reasons. Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.
The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus.
And friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember what you have said,
and show yourselves true Romans.
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily.
Let not our looks put on our purposes.
But bear it as our Roman actors do,
with untired spirits and formal constancy:
And so, good morrow to you, everyone.
Brutus, my lord!
Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now?
It is not for your health thus to commit your weak condition
to the raw cold morning. - Nor for yours neither.
You have ungently, Brutus, stole from my bed,
and yesternight at supper you suddenly arose and walked about
musing and sighing with your arms across.
And when I asked you what the matter was,
you stared upon me with ungentle looks.
I urged you further, yet you answered not,
but, with an angry wafture of your hand, gave sign for me to leave you.
So I did,
fearing to strengthen that impatience which seemed too much enkindled,
and hoping withal it was but an effect of humor,
which sometime hath his way with every man.
It will not let you talk, nor eat, nor sleep.
And, could it work so much upon your shape
as it hath much prevailed on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus.
Dear my lord, make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
I am not well in health, and that is all.
Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,
he would embrace the means to come by it.
Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
What, is Brutus sick?
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed
to dare the vile contagion of the night,
and tempt the rheumy and unpurged air to add unto his sickness?
No, my Brutus.
You have some sick offense within your mind,
which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of.
And, upon my knees, I charm you
by my once-commended beauty,
by all your vows of love and that great vow
which did incorporate and make us one,
that you unfold to me, yourself, your half, why you are heavy,
and what men tonight have had resort to you,
for here have been some six or seven who did hide their faces even from darkness.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
I should not need if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the bonds of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
is it excepted I should know no secrets that appertain to you?
Am I yourself but, as it were, in sort or limitation,
to keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, and talk to you sometimes.
Dwell I but in the suburbs of your good pleasure?
If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.
You are my true and honorable wife,
as dear to me as are the ruddy drops that visit my sad heart.
If this were true, then should I know this secret.
I grant I am a woman,
but withal a woman that Lord Brutus took to wife.
I grant I am a woman, but withal a woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.
Think you I am no stronger than my sex, being so fathered and so husbanded?
Tell me your counsels. I will not disclose them.
I have made strong proof of my constancy,
giving myself a voluntary wound,
Here, in the thigh.
Can I bear that with patience, and not my husband's secrets?
O ye gods, render me worthy of this noble wife!
Portia, go in a while.
And by and by thy bosom shall partake the secrets of my heart.
All my engagements I will construe to thee,
all the charactery of my sad brows.
Leave me with haste.
Lucius, who's that knocks?
Here is a sick man that would speak with you.
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside.
Caius Ligarius! How?
Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.
O brave Caius, would you were not sick.
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand any exploit worthy the name of honor.
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness.
Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honourable loins!
Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up my mortified spirit.
Now bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.
Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
But are not some whole but we must make sick?
That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee,
as we are going to whom it must be done.
Set on your foot, and with a heart new-fired I follow you,
to do I know not what: but it sufficeth that Brutus leads me on.
Follow me.
Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night.
Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out,
'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!'
Who's within?
My lord.
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, and bring me their opinions of success.
I will, my lord.
What mean you, Caesar?
Think you to go forth?
You shall not stir from the house today.
Caesar shall forth.
The things that threatened me never looked but at my back,
when they shall see the face of Caesar, they are vanished.
Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies. Yet now they fright me.
There is one within, besides the things that we have heard and seen,
recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
A lioness hath whelped in the streets,
and graves have yawned and yielded up their dead.
Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,
in ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;
The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan,
and ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.
O Caesar, these things are beyond all use, and I do fear them.
Yet Caesar shall go forth,
for these predictions are to the world in general as to Caesar.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen.
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
it seems to me most strange that men should fear,
seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.
What say the augurers?
They would not have you to stir forth today.
Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
they could not find a heart within the beast.
The gods do this in shame of cowardice.
Caesar should be a beast without a heart if he should stay at home today for fear.
No, Caesar shall not.
Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he,
We are two lions litter'd in one day,
and I the elder and more terrible: and Caesar shall go forth!
Alas, my lord, your wisdom is consumed in confidence.
Do not go forth today.
Call it my fear and not your own that keeps you in the house today.
We'll send Mark Antony to the senate house,
and he shall say you are not well today.
Upon my knees, let me prevail in this.
Mark Antony shall say I am not well.
And, for thy humor, I will stay at home.
Here's Decius Brutus. He shall tell them so.
Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy Caesar.
I come to fetch you to the senate house.
And you are come in very happy time to bear my greeting to the senators,
and tell them that I will not come today.
Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser.
I will not come today. Go tell them, Decius.
- Say he is sick. - Shall Caesar send a lie?
Have I in conquest stretched mine arm so far
to be afeard to tell graybeards the truth?
Decius, go tell them, Caesar will not come.
Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,
lest I be laughed at when I tell them so.
The cause is in my will. I will not come. That is enough to satisfy the senate.
But, for your private satisfaction, because I love you, I will let you know.
Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home.
She dreamt tonight she saw my statue,
which like a fountain with 100 spouts did run pure blood.
Many lusty Romans came smiling and did bathe their hands in it.
These does she apply for warnings and portents and evils imminent,
and on her knee hath begged that I will stay at home today.
This dream is all amiss interpreted.
It was a vision fair and fortunate.
Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, in which so many smiling Romans bathed,
signifies that, from you, great Rome shall suck reviving blood,
and great men press tinctures, relics, stains and cognizance.
This by Calpurnia's dream is signified.
And this way have you well expounded it.
I have, when you have heard what I can say.
And know it now.
The senate have concluded to give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.
If you shall send them word you will not come, their minds may change.
Besides, it were a mock apt to be rendered for some one to say,
"Break up the senate till another time,
when Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams."
If Caesar hide himself,
shall they not whisper, "Lo, Caesar is afraid?"
Pardon me, Caesar,
for the dear, dear love I dare to your proceeding bids me tell you this,
and reason to my love is liable.
How foolish now do seem your fears, Calpurnia!
I am ashamed I did yield to them.
Give me my robe, for I will go!
And look where Cassius has come to fetch me.
- Good morrow, Caesar. - Welcome, Cassius.
What, Brutus, are you stirred so early, too?
Good morrow, Casca. - Mighty Caesar.
Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy
as that same ague which hath made you lean.
- What is't o'clock? - Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.
I thank you for your pains and courtesy.
See. Antony, that revels long o' nights is notwithstanding up.
- Good morrow, Antony. - So to most noble Caesar.
Bid them prepare within:
I am to blame to be thus waited on.
Go in, good friends, and taste some wine with me,
and we, like friends, will straightaway go together.
That every like is not the same, O Caesar.
The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!
"Caesar, beware of Brutus. Take heed of Cassius.
Come not near Casca. Have an eye to Cinna.
Mark well Me... Metellus Cimber.
Decius Brutus loves thee not. Thou has wronged Caius Ligarius.
There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent against Caesar.
If thou be'st not immortal, look about you.
Security gives way to conspiracy.
The mighty gods defend thee. Artemidorus."
Here will I stand till Caesar pass along.
And as a suitor will I hand him this.
My heart laments that virtue cannot live out of the teeth of emulation.
If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live.
If not, the Fates with traitors do conspire.
Hail, Caesar! Read this schedule.
Ligarius doth desire you to o'er-read,
at your best leisure, this, his most humble suit.
O Caesar, read mine first.
For mine's a suit that touches Caesar nearer. Read it, great Caesar.
What touches us ourself shall be last served.
Delay not, Caesar, read it instantly.
- What, is the fellow mad? - Sirrah, give place.
What, urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol.
The ides of March are come.
Ay, Caesar, but not gone.
I wish today your enterprise may thrive.
- What enterprise, Popilius? - Fare you well.
What said Popilius Lena?
He wished today our enterprise might thrive.
I fear our purpose is discovered. - Look how he makes to Caesar. Mark him.
Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.
Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,
Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, for I will slay myself.
Cassius, be constant. Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes,
for, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.
Ligarius knows his time, for, look you, Brutus,
he draws Mark Antony out of the way.
Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.
Are we all ready?
What is now amiss that Caesar and his senate must redress?
Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat an humble heart.
I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings and these lowly courtesies
might fire the blood of ordinary men
and turn pre-ordinance and first decree into the law of children.
Be not fond to think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
that will be thawed from the true quality by that which melteth fools.
I mean sweet words, low-crooked courtesies and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished.
If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause will he be satisfied.
Is there no voice more worthy than my own
to sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear
for the repealing of my banished brother?
I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar,
desiring thee that Publius Cimber may have an immediate freedom of repeal.
What, Brutus?
Pardon, Caesar. Caesar, pardon.
As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
to beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
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 fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks.
They are all fire and every one doth shine,
but there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So in the world, 'tis furnished well with men,
and men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive,
yet in the number I do know but one,
that unassailable holds on his rank, unshaked of motion,
and that I am he. Let me a little show it, even in this.
That I was constant Cimber should be banished,
and constant do remain to keep him so.
- O, Caesar! - Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus?
- Great Caesar! - Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
Speak, hands, for me!
Et tu, Brute? Then fall Caesar.
Liberty! Freedom!
Tyranny is dead!
Run hence! Proclaim, cry it about the streets!
Some to the common pulpits and cry out, "Liberty, freedom, enfranchisement!"
People and Senators, be not affrighted.
- Where is Antony? - Fled to his house amazed.
Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run, as it were doomsday!
Stoop, Romans, stoop, and let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood.
Stoop, then, and wash.
How many ages hence shall this our lofty scene be acted over,
in states unborn and accents yet unknown.
How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,
that now on Pompey's basis lies along no worthier than the dust.
So oft as that shall be,
so often shall the knot of us be called the men that gave their country liberty.
- Soft, who comes here? - A friend to Antony.
Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel.
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down.
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say,
"Brutus is noble, wise, valiant and honest.
Caesar was mighty, bold, royal and loving.
Say I love Brutus and I honor him.
Say I feared Caesar, honored him and loved him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony may safely come to him
and be resolved how Caesar hath deserved to lie in death,
Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead so well as Brutus living,
but will follow the fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
through the hazards of this untrod state with all true faith."
So says my master Antony.
Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman. I never thought him worse.
Tell him, so please him come unto this place, he shall be satisfied,
and, by my honor, depart untouched.
I'll fetch him presently.
I know that we shall have him well to friend.
I wish we may. And yet I have a mind that fears him much,
and my misgiving still fall shrewdly to the purpose.
Welcome, Mark Antony.
O mighty Caesar, dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
shrunk to this little measure?
Fare thee well.
I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
who else must be let blood, who else is rank.
If I myself, there is no hour so fit as Caesar's death hour,
nor no instrument of half that worth as those your swords,
made rich with the most noble blood of all this world.
O Antony, beg not your death of us.
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
as by our hands and this our present act, you see we do,
yet see you but our hands and this the bleeding business they have done,
our hearts you see not. They are pitiful.
And pity to the general wrong of Rome, hath done this deed on Caesar.
For your part, to you, Mark Antony, our swords have leaden points.
Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts of brothers' temper,
do receive you in with all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Your voice shall be as strong as any man's in the disposing of new dignities.
Only be patient till we have appeased the multitude beside themselves with fear.
And then we will deliver you the cause why I,
that did love Caesar when I struck him, have thus proceeded.
I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand.
First, Marcus Brutus, do I shake with you.
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand.
Now, Decius Brutus, yours.
Yours, Metellus. Yours, Cinna.
And my valiant Casca, yours.
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Ligarius.
Gentlemen all. Alas, what shall I say? My credit now stands
on such slippery ground, that one of two bad ways
you must conceit me, either a coward or a flatterer.
That I did love thee, Caesar, O it is true.
If then thy spirit look upon us now,
shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death
to see thy Antony making his peace,
shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, most noble in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
it would become me better than to close in terms of friendship with thine enemies.
- Mark Antony? - Pardon me, Caius Cassius.
The enemy. If Caesar would say this,
then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.
I blame you not for praising Caesar so,
but what compact mean you to have with us?
Will you be pricked in number of our friends,
or shall we on, and not depend on you?
Therefore I took your hands,
but was indeed swayed from the point by looking down on Caesar.
Friends am I with you all, and love you all.
Upon this hope that you shall give me reasons
why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.
Or else were this a savage spectacle.
Our reasons are so full of good regard
that were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, you should be satisfied.
That's all I seek,
and am moreover suitor that I may produce his body in the marketplace,
and in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, speak in the order of his funeral.
- You shall, Mark Antony. - Brutus, a word with you.
You know not what you do.
Do not consent that Antony speak in his funeral.
Know you how much the people may be moved by that which he will utter?
Under your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first,
and show the reason of our Caesar's death.
What Antony shall speak, I will protest he does by leave and by permission,
and that we are contented Caesar shall have all true rites and lawful ceremonies.
It shall advantage more than do us wrong.
I know not what may fall. I like it not.
Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body.
You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,
but speak all good you can devise of Caesar,
and say you do it by our permission.
Else shall you not have any hand at all about his funeral,
and you shall speak in the same pulpit whereto I am going
after my speech is ended.
Be it so. I do desire no more.
Prepare the body then, and follow us.
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
that I am meek and gentle with these butchers.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood.
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, which like dumb mouths
do ope their ruby lips to beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,
a curse shall light upon the limbs of men.
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife shall cumber all the parts of Italy.
Blood and destruction shall be so in use, and dreadful objects so familiar,
that mothers shall but smile when they behold their infants
quartered with the hands of war.
All pity choked with custom of fell deed.
And Caesar's spirit,
ranging for revenge, with Ate by his side come hot from hell,
shall in these confines with a monarch's voice cry...
"Havoc!" And let slip the dogs of war.
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
with carrion men, groaning for burial.
You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not? - I do, Mark Antony.
Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.
He did receive his letters, and is coming;
He bid me come ahead to --
O Caesar!
Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced:
Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
no Rome of safety for Octavius yet.
Yet, stay awhile.
Thou shalt not back. I shall try in my oration,
how the people take the cruel issue of these bloody men.
According to the which, thou shalt discourse to young Octavius
of the state of things. High hence and tell him so.
Be patient till the last, Romans, countrymen, and lovers!
Hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may speak.
Believe me for mine honor,
and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe.
Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses,
that you may the better judge.
If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's,
to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar,
this is my answer.
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves,
than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men?
- No! - No!
As Caesar loved me, I weep for him.
As he was fortunate, I rejoice at it.
As he was valiant, I honor him.
But as he was ambitious, I slew him.
There's tears for his love, joy for his fortune,
honor for his valor, and death for his ambition.
Who is here so base that would be a bondsman?
If any, speak, for him have I offended.
Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman?
If any, speak, for him have I offended.
Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
If any, speak, for him have I offended.
I pause for a reply.
None, Brutus. None!
None!
- None! - None!
Then none have I offended.
I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus.
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony,
who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive a place in the commonwealth,
the benefit of his dying, as which of you shall not?
With this I depart.
That, as I slew my best lover
for the good of Rome,
I have the same dagger for myself,
when it shall please my country to need my death.
- Live, Brutus! - Live! Live!
- Live! - Live!
Good countrymen. Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
and for my sake, stay here with Antony.
Do grace to Caesar's corpse,
and grace his speech tending to Caesar's glories,
which Mark Antony, by our permission, is allowed to make.
I do entreat you, not a man depart,
save I alone, till Antony hath spoke.
For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you.
What does he say of Brutus?
He says for Brutus' sake, he finds himself beholding to us all.
- This Caesar was a tyrant! - Nay, that's certain.
We are blessed that Rome is rid of him!
You gentle Romans.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.
So let it be with Caesar.
The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
and grievously hath Caesar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, for Brutus is an honorable man,
so are they all, all honorable men,
come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just, to me.
But Brutus says he was ambitious,
and Brutus is an honorable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
whose ransoms did the general coffers fill.
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
and Brutus is an honorable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him
a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse.
Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, and, sure, he is an honorable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
but here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause.
What cause withholds you now to mourn for him?
O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts,
and men have lost their reason.
Bear with me. My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
and I must pause till it come back to me.
Methinks there is much reason in his saying.
If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar has had great wrong.
Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.
Marked ye his words? He would not take the crown.
Therefore it is certain he was not ambitious.
If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.
But yesterday, the word of Caesar might have stood against the world.
Now lies he there, and none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters! If I were disposed to stir your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong,
who, you all know, are honorable men.
I will not do them wrong. I rather choose to wrong the dead,
to wrong myself and you, than I will wrong such honorable men.
But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar.
I found it in his closet. 'Tis his will.
Let but the commons hear this testament,
which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,
and they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds,
and dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
yea, beg a hair of him for memory, and, dying, mention it within their wills,
bequeathing it as a rich legacy unto their issue.
We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony!
Have patience, gentle friends. I must not read it.
It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.
And being men, hearing the will of Caesar,
it will inflame you, it will make you mad.
It is good you know not that you are his heirs.
For if you should, O what would come of it?
Read the will. We'll hear it, Antony!
You shall read us the will, Caesar's will!
Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile?
I have overshot myself to tell you of it.
I fear I wrong the honorable men whose daggers have stabbed Caesar.
- They were traitors. - Honorable men!
- They were villains, murderers! - The will!
The will! The will! The will!
You will compel me then to read the will?
Then make a ring around the corpse of Caesar,
and let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend, and will you give me leave?
Come down!
If you have tears,
prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle.
I remember the first time ever Caesar put it on.
It was on a summer's evening in his tent that day he overcame the Nervii.
Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through.
See what a rent the envious Casca made.
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed,
and, as he plucked his cursed steel away, mark how the blood of Caesar followed it,
as rushing out of doors, to be resolved if Brutus so unkindly knocked or no.
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, ingratitude,
more strong than traitors' arms, quite vanquished him,
then burst his mighty heart,
and, in his mantle muffling up his face,
even at the base of Pompey's statue, which all the while ran blood,
great Caesar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
whilst bloody treason flourished over us.
- Traitors. - Villains.
- We will be revenged! - Let not a traitor live!
Stay, countrymen!
Good friends, sweet friends,
let me not stir you up to such a sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are wise, and honorable.
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not that made them do it.
They are wise and honorable,
and will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.
I am no orator, as Brutus is,
but, as you know me all, a plain blunt man
that loved my friend, and that they know full well
that gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action, nor utterance,
nor the power of speech to stir men's blood.
I only speak right on. I tell you that which you yourselves do know,
show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths,
and bid them speak for me.
But were I Brutus, and Brutus Antony,
there were an Antony would ruffle up your spirits,
and put a tongue in every wound of Caesar
that should stir the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
We'll mutiny! We'll burn the house of Brutus!
Yet hear me, countrymen!
Why, friends, you go to do you know not what.
Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your love?
Alas, you know not. I must tell you then.
You have forgot the will I told you of. - The will!
Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal.
To every Roman citizen he gives, to every several man,
75 drachmas!
Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
his private arbors and new-planted orchards on this side Tiber.
He hath left them you and to your heirs forever.
Here was a Caesar. When comes such another?
Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, take thou what course thou wilt!
How now, fellow! - Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us any thing.
I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.
Belike they had some notice of the people,
how I had moved them.
Bring me to Octavius.
These many then shall die. Their names are pricked.
Your brother too must die. Consent you, Lepidus?
- I do consent. - Prick him down, Antony.
Upon condition Publius shall not live,
who is your sister's son, Mark Antony.
He shall not live. Look, with a spot, I damn him.
But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house.
Fetch the will hither,
and we shall determine how to cut off some charge in legacies.
What, shall I find you here?
Or here, or at the Capitol.
This is a slight unmeritable man, meet to be sent on errands. Is it fit,
the three-fold world divided, he should be one of the three to share in it?
So you thought him.
And took his voice who should be pricked to die
in our black sentence and prescription.
Octavius, I have seen more days than you.
And though we lay these honors on this man
to ease ourselves of diverse slanderous loads,
he shall but bear them as the ass bears gold,
to groan and sweat under the business, either led or driven, as we point the way.
And having brought our treasures where we will,
then take we down his load and turn him off,
like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, and graze in common.
You may do your will, but he's a tried and valiant soldier.
So is my horse, Octavius, and for that I do appoint him store of provender.
And now, Octavius, listen great things.
Brutus and Cassius are levying powers.
Therefore we must straight make head.
Therefore let our alliance be combined,
our means stretch'd, our best friends made,
and let us presently go sit in council,
how covert matters may be best disclosed
and open perils surest answered.
Let us do so, for we are at the stake, and bayed about with many enemies,
and some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
Stand, ho!
What now, Apollonius? Is Cassius near?
He is at hand, and Pindarus is come to do you salutation from his master.
He greets me well.
Your master, Pindarus, by his own charge, or by ill officers,
hath given me some worthy cause to wish things done, undone,
but if he be at hand, I shall be satisfied.
I do not doubt but that my noble master will appear,
such as he is, full of regard and honor.
He is not doubted. Comes his army on?
They mean this night in Sardis to be quarter'd;
The greater part, the horse in general, are come with Cassius.
Hark! He is arrived.
Stand, ho! Speak the word along.
- Stand! -Stand! - Stand!
Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.
Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies?
And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother?
Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, and when you do them...
Cassius, be content.
Speak your griefs softly. I do know you well.
Before the eyes of both our armies here,
which should perceive nothing but love from us,
let us not wrangle: Bid them move away.
Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, and I will give you audience.
Bithinius, bid our commanders lead their charges off a little from this ground.
- Lead out! - Lead out! - Lead out!
That you have wronged me doth appear in this.
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella for taking bribes here of the Sardians.
Wherein my letters, praying on his side, because I knew the man, were slighted off.
You wronged yourself to write in such a case.
In such a time as this it is not meet
that every nice offense should bear its comment.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm,
to sell and mart your offices for gold to undeservers.
I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
or, by the gods, this speech were else your last!
The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
and chastisement doth, therefore, hide his head.
Chastisement!
Remember March, the ides of March, remember.
Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?
What villain touched his body that did stab, and not for justice?
What, shall one of us that struck the foremost man of all this world
but for supporting robbers, shall we now contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
and sell the mighty space of our large honors
for so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I'd rather be a dog and bay the moon than such a Roman.
Brutus, bay not me. I'll not endure it.
You forget yourself to hedge me in.
I am a soldier, I, older in practice, abler than yourself to make conditions.
- Go to. You are not Cassius. - I am.
- I say you are not. - Urge me no more, I shall forget myself.
Have mind upon your health. Tempt me no further.
- Away, slight man. - Is it possible?
Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Must I be frighted when a madman stares?
O ye gods, ye gods, must I endure all this?
All this! Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart breaks.
Go show your slaves how choleric you are, and go make your bondmen tremble.
Must I budge? Must I observe you?
Must I stand and crouch under your testy humor?
By the gods, you shall digest the venom of your spleen,
though it do split you, for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, when you are waspish.
Is it come to this?
You say you are a better soldier. Let it appear so.
Make your vaunting true, and it shall please me well.
For my part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
You wrong me every way. You wrong me, Brutus.
I said an elder soldier, not a better.
Did I say better? - If you did, I care not.
When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.
Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him.
- I durst not! - No!
- What, durst not tempt him? - For your life you durst not.
Do not presume too much upon my love. I may do that I shall be sorry for.
You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,
for I am armed so strong in honesty,
that they pass by me as the idle wind, which I respect not.
I did send to you for certain sums of gold, which you denied me,
for I can raise no money by vile means.
Was that done like Cassius? Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
- I denied you not! - You did.
I did not. He was but a fool that brought my answer back.
Brutus has rived my heart.
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
but Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
I do not, till you practice them on me.
- You love me not. - I do not like your faults.
A friendly eye could never see such faults.
A flatterer's would not, though they do appear as huge as high Olympus.
Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
for Cassius is aweary of the world.
Hated by one he loves, braved by his brother,
checked like a bondman, all his faults observed,
set in a notebook, learned and conned by rote to cast into my teeth.
O, I could weep my spirit from mine eyes!
Here is my dagger,
and here my naked breast.
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart.
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar,
for, I know, when thou didst hate him worst,
thou lovedst him better than ever thou lovedst Cassius.
Sheathe your dagger.
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope.
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
that bears anger as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, and straight is cold again.
Hath Cassius lived... to be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
when grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?
When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered, too.
Do you confess so much?
Give me your hand. - And my heart, too.
- O Brutus... - Why, what's the matter?
Have you not love enough to bear with me,
when that rash humor that my mother gave me makes me forgetful?
Yes, Cassius.
Henceforth, when you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
he'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
Lucius, a bowl of wine!
I did not think you could have been so angry.
Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
Of your philosophy you make no use, if you give place to accidental evils.
No man bears sorrow better.
Portia is dead.
- Portia? - She is dead.
How escaped I killing when I crossed you so?
O, insupportable and touching grief!
Upon what sickness?
Impatient of my absence, grief that young Octavius
and Mark Antony have made themselves so strong,
for with her death that tidings came.
With this she fell distract,
her attendants absent,
swallowed fire.
And died so?
Even so.
O ye immortal gods.
Now do not speak any more of her.
Give me the wine, Lucius.
In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.
My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.
Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup,
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.
Come in, Lucilius. Welcome, Messala.
Sit we close about the taper here, and call in question our necessities.
- Portia, art thou gone? - No more, I beg you.
Messala, I have here received letters
that young Octavius and Mark Antony come down upon us with a mighty power,
bending their expedition toward Philippi.
Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor.
With what addition?
That by prescription and bills of outlawry,
Octavius, Antony and Lepidus have put to death 100 senators.
Therein our letters do not well agree.
Mine speak of 70 senators that have been perscribed.
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?
No, Messala.
- Nor nothing in your letters writ...? - Nothing, Messala.
Well, to our work alive.
What think you of marching to Philippi presently?
- I do not think it good. - Your reason?
This it is. 'Tis better that the enemy seek us.
So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, doing himself offense,
whilst we, lying still, are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness.
Good reasons must, of force, give way to better.
The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground do stand but in a forced affection.
For they have grudged us contribution:
The enemy, marching along by them,
by them shall make a fuller number up,
come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged;
From which advantage shall we cut him off,
if at Philippi we do face him there, these people at our back.
- Hear me, good brother. - Under your pardon.
You must note, beside, that we have tried the utmost of our friends.
Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe.
The enemy increaseth every day. We, at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
Then, with your will, go on.
We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.
There is no more to say?
No more. Good night.
Early tomorrow must we rise and hence.
Lucius, my gown!
Farewell, Messala. Good night, Lord Brutus.
Noble, noble Cassius, good night, and good repose.
O my dear brother.
This was an ill beginning of the night.
Never come such division 'twixt our souls.
Let it not, Brutus.
Everything is well.
- Good night, my lord. - Good night, good brother.
- Good night, Lord Brutus. - Farewell, every one.
- Where is thy instrument? - Here... in the tent...
What, thou speak'st drowsily?
Poor knave, I blame thee not. Thou art over-watched.
Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so.
I put it in the pocket of my gown.
I was sure your lordship did not give it me.
Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.
Lucius?
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
and touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Ay, my lord, an't please you.
It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
'Tis my duty, sir.
I should not urge thy duty past thy might.
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.
I have slept, my lord, already.
It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again. I will not hold thee long.
If I do live, I will be good to thee.
This is a sleepy tune.
O murderous slumber,
lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy that plays thee music?
Gentle knave, good night.
I will not do thee so much wrong, to wake thee.
How ill this taper burns.
Speak to me what thou art!
Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Why com'st thou?
To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Then... I shall see thee again.
Ay, at Philippi.
Why, then I will see thee at Philippi!
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest.
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.
Lucius?
Lucius, awake! Lucius, awake!
Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?
My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything?
Nothing, my lord.
Go and commend me to my brother Cassius.
Bid him set on his powers betimes before, and I will follow.
It shall be done, my lord.
Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:
You said the enemy would not come down, but keep the hills and upper regions;
It proves not so.
Their battles are at hand.
They mean to warn us at Philippi here, answering before we do demand of them.
I am in their bosoms, and I know wherefore they do it.
They could be content to visit other places,
and come down with fearful bravery,
thinking by this face to fasten in our thoughts that they have courage.
But 'tis not so.
Prepare you, generals. The enemy comes on in gallant show.
Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, and something to be done immediately.
Octavius, lead your battle softly on, upon the left hand of the even field.
Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left.
Why do you cross me in this exigent?
I do not cross you; but I will do so.
They stand, and would hold parley.
Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.
Attention!
Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?
No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge.
Make forth, the generals would have some words.
Stir not until the signal.
Words before blows, is it so, countrymen?
Not that we love words better, as you do.
Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.
In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words.
Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, crying 'Long live! hail, Caesar!'
You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds,
and bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet,
whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind struck Caesar on the neck.
O you flatterers!
Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself,
this tongue had not offended so to-day, if Cassius might have ruled.
Come, come, the cause:
For arguing make us sweat, the proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Look, I draw a sword against conspirators!
When think you that the sword goes up again?
Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds be well avenged.
Or till another Caesar have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.
Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands,
unless thou bring'st them with thee.
So I hope; I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.
O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.
A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour,
join'd with a masker and a reveller!
Old Cassius still!
Come, Antony, away!
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
If you dare fight to-day, come to the field.
If not, when you have stomachs.
Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
Titinius, a word with you.
- Messala. - What says my general?
Messala, this is my birthday. As this very day was Cassius born.
Give me thy hand, Messala.
Be thou my witness, that against my will, as Pompey was,
am I compelled to set upon one battle all our liberties.
You know that I held Epicurus strong, and his opinion.
But now I change my mind,
and partly credit things that do presage.
Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign two mighty eagles fell,
and there they perch'd, gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
who to Philippi here consorted us.
This morning are they fled away and gone.
And in their steads do ravens, crows and kites, fly o'er our heads,
and downward look on us, as we were sickly prey.
Their shadows seem a canopy most fatal,
under which our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.
Believe not so.
I but believe it partly; for I am fresh of spirit,
and resolved to meet all perils very constantly.
Now, most noble Brutus.
This very day must end that work the ides of March begun.
Whether we shall meet again I know not.
Therefore, our everlasting farewell take.
Forever and forever, farewell, Cassius.
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile.
If not, why then, this parting was well made.
Forever and forever farewell, Brutus.
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed.
If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made.
Lead on.
O, that a man might know the ending of his day's business ere it come.
But it sufficeth that the day will end, and then the end is known.
Come, ho! Away!
- Flank forward. - Frank folk!
- Forward fold. - Forward fold!
Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills unto the legions on the other side.
Let them set on at once; for I perceive but cold demeanor in Octavius' wing,
and sudden push gives them the overthrow.
Ride, ride, Messala, ride. Let them all come down.
Hold! Stand fast!
Forward! Hold!
O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly!
Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy:
This ensign here of mine was turning back;
I slew the coward, and did take it from him.
O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early;
Who, having some advantage on Octavius, took it too eagerly:
his soldiers fell to spoil, whilst we by Antony are all enclosed.
Fly further off, my--
Fly further off, Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord.
Fly further off, my lord, fly further off!
This hill is far enough.
Look, look, Titinius.
Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?
They are, my lord.
Titinius, if thou lovest me, mount thou my horse
and hide thy spurs in him,
till he have brought thee up to yonder troops and back again,
that I may rest assured whether yond troops are friend or enemy.
I will be here again, even with a thought.
Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill.
My sight was ever thick.
Regard Titinius, and tell me what thou notest about the field.
This day I breathed first.
Time is come round,
and where I did begin, there must I end.
My life is run his compass.
O, my lord!
Titinius is enclosed at round about with horsemen that make to him on the spur.
Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. Now, Titinius!
He's taken. And, hark! They shout for joy.
Come down. Behold no more.
O, coward that I am, to live so long
to see my best friend taken before my face.
Come hither, sirrah.
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner,
and then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
that whatsoever I did bid thee do, thou shouldst attempt it.
Come now, keep thine oath.
Now be a freeman,
and with this good sword, that ran through Caesar's bowels,
...search this bosom.
Stand not to answer. Here.
Take thou the hilts.
And, when my face is cover'd,
...as 'tis now,
...guide thou the sword.
Caesar... Thou art revenged...
even... with the sword that kill'd... thee.
So, I am free.
Yet would not so have been, durst I have done my will.
O Cassius, far from this country Pindarus shall run,
where never Roman shall take note of him.
It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius is overthrown
by noble Brutus' power, as Cassius' legions are by Antony.
- These tidings will well comfort Cassius. - Where did you leave him?
All disconsolate, with Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.
Is not that he that lies upon the ground?
He lies not like the living. O my heart!
Is not that he?
No Messala, this was he,
But Cassius is no more.
O setting sun, as in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night,
so in his red blood, Cassius' day is set.
The sun of Rome is set! Our days are gone;
Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done!
Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.
I shall to meet the noble Brutus, thrusting this report into his ears.
I may say, thrusting it; for piercing steel and darts envenomed
shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus as tidings of this sight.
Hie you, Messala. I will seek for Pindarus the while.
Pindarus! Where art thou Pindarus! Hail us!
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords into our own proper entrails.
The last of all the Romans, fare you well!
It is impossible that ever Rome should breed thy fellow.
Friends, I owe more tears to this dead man than you shall see me pay.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
Yet, countrymen, yet hold up your heads!
I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus!
I, Brutus, my country's friend!
Know me for Brutus!
Yield, or thou diest.
Only I yield to die: there is so much that thou wilt kill me straight.
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
We must not. A noble prisoner!
- Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. - Here comes the general.
Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.
Where is he?
Safe, Antony. Brutus is safe enough.
I dare assure thee that no enemy shall ever take alive the noble Brutus.
The gods defend him from so great a shame!
When you do find him, or alive or dead,
he shall be found like Brutus, like himself.
This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you, a prize no less in worth:
Keep this man safe; give him all kindness:
I had rather have such men my friends than enemies.
Go on. And see whether Brutus be alive or dead,
and bring us word unto Octavius' tent how every thing is chanced.
Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord, he came not back.
he is or ta'en or slain. - Sit down, Clitus.
Slaying is the word; it is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.
- Peace, then. No words. - I'd rather kill myself.
Hark thee, Volumnius. List a word.
The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me two several times by night,
at Sardis once, and this last night here in Philippi fields.
I know my hour is come. - Not so, my lord.
Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes.
Our enemies have beat us to the pit.
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves than tarry till they push us.
Good Volumnius, thou know'st that we two went to school together.
Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I do run on it.
That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
Fly, my lord, fly. There is no tarrying here!
Farewell, Clitus, farewell, Volumnius.
I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy Lord.
Thou art a fellow of a good respect.
Thy life hath had some smatch of honor in it.
Hold thou my sword, and turn away thy face,
whilst I do run on it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Give me your hand first.
Fare you well, my lord. - Farewell, good Strato.
Caesar, now be still.
I killed not thee with half so good a will.
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
All the conspirators, save only he,
did that they did out of envy of great Caesar.
He only, in a general honest thought
and common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle,
and the elements so mixed in him
that Nature might stand up and say to all the world,
"This was a man."
According to his virtue, let us use him with all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie,
most like a soldier, ordered honorably.
So call the field to rest,
and let's away, to part the glories of this happy day.