Festival (1960–…): Season 1, Episode 5 - Julius Caesar - full transcript

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?

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.