All language subtitles for The.Donmar.Warehouses.All-Female.Shakespeare.Trilogy.s01e01.Julius.Caesar.[MPup]

Places, ladies.

Good morning, everyone.

Thanks for coming.

My name is Sade.

We've chosen the plays for our trilogy
because they're the ones that connected

to our stories.

Each play speaks to us in a different
way.

Only 15% of women in prison are there
because of violent crimes.

Over half have been victims of domestic
abuse.

And that's partly my story.

I retaliated, finally.

I know that doesn't excuse it. I made a
very bad mistake and now I've got a long

sentence to serve for manslaughter.

As Brutus says, good words are better
than bad strokes.

I've always found it hard to speak up. I
used to be very shy.

But working on these Shakespeare plays
has really helped me to find my voice.

And I know that's the same for some of
the other girls here.

I hope you enjoy your day.

I can see a new expression on my face

I can feel a strange sensation taking

place I can hear the guitars playing

lovely tunes every time

that you

What do you want?

Beware the Ides of March.

Ooh, bit of Shakespeare.

Give me that.

Libra, you have an opportunity to show
leadership skills, but tone down your

feisty attitude.

And be sensitive to other people's
feelings.

If an invitation comes your way...
Beware...

Will you go see the progress of the
games?

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, Cassius, hinder your
desires. I'll leave you. Brutus, I do

observe you now of late. I have not from
your eye that gentleness and show of

love as I was wont to have. You bear too
stubborn.

and to 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 behaviours, 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.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your
passion.

By means whereof this breast of mine
hath buried thoughts of great value,

worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your
face?

No, Cassius, for the eye sees not
itself, but by reflection, by some other

thing. 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. I

have heard where many of the best
respect in Rome accept immortal Caesar.

Speaking of Brutus, and groaning
underneath his age's yoke, have wished

that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Into what dangers would you lead me,
Cassius, that you would have me seeking

to 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, shall modestly discover to
yourself that of yourself which you yet

know not of.

And be not doubtful of me, gentle
Brutus.

Were I a common laugher, or did used
to...

stale with ordinary oaths my love to
every new protester. If you know that I

do fawn on men and hug them hard and
after scandal them, or if you know that

I profess myself in banqueting to all
the rout, then hold me dangerous.

What means this shouting?

I do fear the people choose Caesar for
their king.

Aye, 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 that you would impart

to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,
set honour in one eye and death in the

other, and I will look on both
indifferently, for let the gods so

please me. I love the name of honour
more than I fear death. I know that

virtue to be in you, Brutus, as well as
I do know your outward favour.

Honor is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you or other men
think of this life, but for my single

self, I had as lief not be, as lief to
be in awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free, a Caesar, so were you.

We both have fed as well, and we can
both endure a winter's cold as well as

he.

For once, upon a roar.

Gusty day, the troubled Tiber chafing
with her shores, Caesar said to me,

durst thou, Cassius, now leap in with me
into this angry flood and swim to yonder

point? Upon the word, accoutred 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 Tyre, the

Caesar, and this.

Man is now become a god, and Cassius is
a wretched creature that must bend his

body if Caesar carelessly put naught 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.

Just true, just god.

did shake, his cow-wood lips did from
their colour fly, and that same eye,

whose bend doth all the world, did lose
his lustre, I did hear him groan, ay,

that tongue of his that bade the Romans
mark him, and write his speeches in

their books, alas, he cried, give me
some drink, Cassius, as a sick girl, he

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 heaped on

Caesar. Why, man, he doth bestride the
narrow world like a colossus, and we

petty men walk under his huge legs, and
people bout to find ourselves

dishonourable graves.

Men at some times 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 his name be sounded more than

yours? Write them together.

It is a fairer 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 has grown so great?

H, thou art shamed. When could they say
till now the talk of Rome that

her wide walks encompass but one man?
But woe the while.

Our father's minds are dead.

And we are governed by our mother's
spirits, our yoke and suffer and show us

womanish. That you do love me, I am
nothing doubtful.

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 the 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 such

hard conditions as these times are like
to lay upon us. I am glad that my weak

words have struck but thus much show of
fire from Brutus.

Ah, the games are done. Caesar is
returning.

Antonio!

Caesar! Let me have men about me that
are fat,

sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a
night.

Yond! Cassius has a lean and hungry
look.

He thinks too much.

Such men are dangerous.

I fear him not, Caesar. He's not
dangerous. He is a noble Roman and well

-given. Would he were fatter?

But I fear him not.

Yet, if my name were liable to fear, I
do not know the man I should avoid so

soon as that spare Cassius.

He reads much.

He's a great observer.

He sees quite through the deeds of men.

He loves no plays, Antony, as thou dost.

He hears no music.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a
sort as if he mocked himself and scorned

his spirit that could be moved to smile
at anything.

Such men as he be never at heart's ease
whilst they perceive 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. Caesar!

Come on my right hand, for this ear is
deaf, and tell me truly what thou

think'st of him.

Casca! Casca!

Tell us what had chanced today that
Caesar seemed so strange.

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 cry for?

Why, for that too. They shouted thrice.
What was the last cry for? Why, for that

too. Was the crown offered to him
thrice? Aye, marry worst.

And he put it by thrice, every time
gentler than other.

And at every putting by mine, honest
neighbours shouted, Who offered him the

crown? Why, Antony, tell us the manner
of it, gentle Casca.

I can as well behind this 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 these 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.

And then he offered it the third time.
He put it the third time by.

And still as he refused it, the rabble
went hooted and clapped their chopped

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 swooned and fell down at it.

And for my own part I durst not laugh,
for fear of opening my lips and

receiving the bad air. But soft, I pray
you, what, did Caesar swoon?

He fell down in the market-place, and
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.

I could tell you more news, too.

Any found pulling wreaths off Caesar's
images is to be put to silence.

Fare you well. There is 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?

Aye, if I be alive.

And your mind hold.

And your dinner worth the eating.

I will expect you.

Do so.

Farewell, both.

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.

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 mettle may be

wrought from that it is disposed.

Therefore it is meet that noble men keep
ever with their likes, for who so firm

that cannot be seduced?

Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves
Brutus. Were I Brutus now, and he

Cassius, he should not humor me.

I would this night in several hands in
at his window throw, as if they came

from several citizens, writings all
tending to the great opinion Rome holds

of his name, wherein obscurely Caesar's
ambition may be glanced at.

And after that, let Caesar seat him
sure, for we will

shake him, or worse days endure.

Lucius! Oh!

I cannot by the progress of the stars
give guess how near today.

Lucius, I say.

I would it were my fault to sleep so
soundly. When, Lucius, when awake, I say

what? Lucius.

Called you, my lord.

Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March?
I know not, sir.

Look in the calendar, bring me word. I
will, sir.

It must be by his death.

And for my part, I know no personal
cause to spurn at him, but for the

general, they say tomorrow the senators
meet to establish Caesar as a king.

Ha!

How that may change his nature, there's
the question.

Tis 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 tis a common proof that lowliness is
young ambition's ladder.

Whereto the climber upward turns his
face, but when he once attains the

utmost round, he then unto the ladder
turns his back, looks at the clouds,

scorning the base degrees by which he
did ascend, so Caesar may, and lest

he may, prevent.

And for the quarrel will bear no colour
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.

Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake and see
thyself.

Shall roam, etc.

Speak, strike, redress.

Brutus, thou sleep'st awake.

Such instigations have been often
dropped where I have took them up.

Shall roam, etc.

Thus must I peace it out.

Shall Rome stand under one man's sway?

What, Rome?

Speak, strike, redress.

Am I entreated then to speak and strike?

O Rome, I make thee promise, if the
redress will follow, thou receiv'st thy

full petition at the hand of Brutus.

March is wasted fifteen days.

It is well.

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 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,
who doth desire to see you. Is he alone?

No, sir, there are more with him.

Do you know them? No, sir.

Their hats are plucked about their ears,
and half their faces buried in their

cloaks, that by no means I may discover
them by any mark of favour.

I think we are too bold upon your rest.

Good morrow, Brutus. Do we trouble you?

I've been up this hour, awake all night.

Know I these men that come along with
you?

Ay, every man of them.

And no man here but honours you.

And every one doth wish you had but that
opinion of yourself which every noble

Roman bears of you.

This is Trebonius.

He is welcome hither.

This Casca, this Cinna, and this
Metellus Simba.

They're all welcome.

What watchful cares to interpose
themselves betwixt your eyes and night?

Shall I entreat a word?

Give me your hands, all over, one by
one. And let us swear our resolution.

Oh, not an oath.

If not the faith of men, the suffering
of our souls, the time's abuse.

If these be motives weak, break off
betimes, and every man hence to his idle

bed.

So let high-sighted tyranny range on
till each man drops by lottery. But

if these, as I am sure they do, bear
fire enough to kindle cowards,

and to steal with valor the melting
spirits of women, then, countrymen, 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 falter?

And 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?

Metellus, well urged, I think it is not
meet. Mark Antony, so well beloved of

Caesar, should outlive Caesar.

We shall find of him a shrewd contriver,
and you know his means.

If he improve, there 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, Gaius
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's be sacrifices, but not butchers,
Gaius.

We all stand up against the spirit of
Caesar, and in the spirit of men there

is no blood.

Oh, that we then might 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, which, so
appearing to the common eyes, we shall

be called purgers and not murderers.

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 Indian grafted love he bears to

Caesar. Alas, good Cassius, do not think
of him.

If he loves Caesar, all that he can do
is to himself.

Take thought and die for Caesar, and
that I doubt he should, for he's given

to sports, to wildness, and much
company. We have no fear of him. Let him

not die, for he will live and laugh at
this hereafter.

Peace.

Count the clock.

The clock has struck three.

It is time to part.

But it is doubtful yet whether Caesar
will go forth today or no, for he is

superstitious grown of late.

Quite from the main opinion he held once
of fantasies, of dreams, and ceremonies.

It may be these apparent prodigies, the
unaccustomed terrors of the night, and

the persuasion of his augurers may keep
him from the capital today. Never fear

that. If he be so resolved, I can
o'ersway him.

For he loves to hear that unicorns may
be betrayed with trees and bears with

mirrors, lions with nets, elephants with
holes and men with flatterers.

Though 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 capital.

Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch
him. By the eighth hour? Is that the

latest? Be that the latest, and fail not
then.

Good friends, disperse yourselves, but
all remember what you have said, and

show yourselves true Romans.

Good morrow to you, everyone.

Boy, Lucius!

Fast asleep.

Tis no matter.

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies
which busy care draws in the brains of

men. Therefore thou sleep'st so soundly.

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've ungently, Brutus, stole from my
bed.

And yesterday night 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, then you scratched
your head and too impatiently stamped

with your foot. Yet I insisted, yet you
answered not, but with an angry wafter

of your hand gave sign for me to leave
you. So I did, fearing to

strengthen that impatience which seemed
too much enkindled and withal hoping it

was but an effect of humour which
sometime hath his hour with every man.

They will not let you eat, nor talk, nor
sleep.

And could it work so much upon your
shape as it hath much prevailed upon

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, 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 Porsche, go to bed.

Is Brutus sick?

And is it physical to walk unbraced and
suck up the

humours of the dank morning? What?

Is Brutus sick? And will he steal out of
his...

Wholesome bed to dare the vile contagion
of the night and tempt the roomy and

unpursed air to add unto his sickness?

No, my Brutus, you have some sick
offence 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
five or six who did hide their faces

even from darkness kneel not gentle
portion i should not need if you were

gentle brutus now within the bonds of
marriage tell me brutus Is it accepted

I should know no secrets that appertain
to you?

What, am I yourself but, as it were, in
sort or limitation?

Want 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's harlot, not his wife. You are
my true and honourable wife.

as dear to me as are the ruddy drops
that visit my sad heart. If this were

true, then I should know this secret.

Now 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 here make strong proof of my
constancy, giving myself a voluntary

wound here in the Tyre.

Now can I bear that with patience, and
not my husband's secrets?

Oh, gods render me worthy of this noble
wife.

Come in with me. Thy bosom shall partake
the secrets of my heart. All my

engagements I will construe to thee.

All the character of my sad brows.

Nor heaven nor earth hath been at peace
tonight.

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.

What mean you, Caesar?

Think you to walk forth?

You shall not stir out of your house
today.

Caesar shall go forth.

The things that threatened me ne'er look
but on my back. When they shall see the

face of Caesar, they are vanished yet.

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 fight upon the
clouds in ranks and squadrons and right

form of war, which drizzled blood upon
the capital. The noise of battle hurtled

in the air.

Horses do 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. What can be avoided whose end is
purposed by the mighty gods?

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 stir forth today.

Plug in the entrails of the 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 littered in
one day, and I the elder and more

terrible, and Caesar shall go forth.
Alack, my lord!

Your wisdom is consumed by confidence.

Do not go forth today.

Call it my fear that keeps you in the
house and not your own.

We'll send Mark Antony to the Senate
House and he shall say that you are not

well today. Let me upon my knee.

Mark Antony shall say I am not well, and
for thy humour I will stay at home

today.

Here's noble Casca. You 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
greetings to the senators and tell them

I will not come today. Cannot is false,
and that I dare not falser. I will not

come. Tell them so, Casca.

Say he is sick.

Shall Caesar send a lie?

Have I in conquest stretched mine arms
so far to be of fear to tell greybeards

the truth?

Casca, 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 a hundred

spouts did run pure blood, and many
lusty Romans came smiling and did bathe

their hands in it, and for these does
she apply...

warnings and portents and evils
imminent, and on her knee hath begged

that I stay at home today.

This dream is all a misinterpreted.

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 that great men shall press for
tinctures, stains, relics, and

cognizance. This, by Calpurnia's dream,
is signified. And this way have you well

expanded it.

I have.

When you have heard what I can say, and
know it now, the Senate hath 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 someone 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 my dear, dear
love to our proceeding bids me tell you

this, and reason to my love is liable.

foolish do your fears seem now,
Calpurnia?

I am ashamed I did yield to them.

Give me my rope, for I will go.

And look where Cassius has come to fetch
me.

Good morrow, Caesar.

Cassius.

What?

Brutus. So early too?

What is the clock? Caesar, it has struck
an eight.

Well, I thank you for your pains and
courtesy.

Caesar! See where Antony, who revels
longer nights, is not withstanding up.

Good morrow, Antony. Oh, so too, most
noble Caesar.

Bid them prepare within.

I am to blame to be thus waited for.

Oh, what dinner!

Now, Metellus, hey!

Oh, what, Trebonius?

I have an hour's talk in store for you.
Remember that you call on me today. Be

near me, that I might remember you.
Caesar, I will.

Caesar! And so near will I be, his best
friend shall wish I had been further.

Good friends, go in and taste some wine
with me, and we, like friends, will

straightaway go together.

Come not near Casca.

Have an eye to Cinna.

Trust not Trebonius.

Metellus Simba.

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!

Lucius!

O pretty boy, run to the senate house.

Say not to answer me, but get thee gone.

Why dost thou stay?

To know my errand, madam.

I would have had thee there and here
again, ere I can tell thee what thou

shouldst do there. O Constancy, be
strong upon my side.

Set a huge mountain between my heart and
tongue. I have a man's mind, but a

woman's might. How hard is it for women
to keep counsel?

Are thou here still?

Madam, what should I do? Run to the
capital and nothing else, and so return

to you and nothing else?

Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord
look well, for he went

sickly forth.

And take good note what Caesar doth,
what suitors press to him.

Hark, boy, what noise was that?

I hear none, madam.

Pray thee, listen well.

I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
and the wind brings it

from the capital.

Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.

Come here there, fellow.

Which way is the open?

At mine own house, good lady.

What is it o'clock?

About the ninth hour, lady.

Is Caesar yet gone to the capital?

Madam, not yet.

I go to take my stand to see him pass on
to the capital.

Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou
not? That I have, lady.

If it will please Caesar to be so good
to Caesar as to hear me,

I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

Why?

know as though any harm is intended
towards them.

None that I know will be, much that I
fear may chance.

Good morrow to you.

I must go in.

Sure the boy heard me.

Brutus had a suit that Caesar will not
grant.

I grow faint.

Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord.
Say,

I am merry.

And come to me again, and bring me word
what he doth say to thee.

The kids of March are come.

Aye, Caesar, but not gone.

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 a 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 with that which
melteth fools.

I mean low, crooked curtsies, sweet
words, 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.

No, 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 Simba

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

Simba. 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 it is furnished well
with men, and men are flesh and blood

and apprehending.

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.

Oh, Caesar. Heads, will thou lift up
Olympus? Great Caesar.

Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? I kiss
thy hands, but not in flatteries. I kiss

Cimber's eyes. I kiss Cimber's eyes. I
kiss Cimber's eyes.

I kiss Cimber's eyes. I kiss Cimber's
eyes. I kiss Cimber's eyes. I kiss

Cimber's eyes. I kiss Cimber's eyes. I
kiss Cimber's eyes. I kiss Cimber's

eyes.

I kiss Cimber's eyes.

Then falls Caesar.

Liberty, freedom, tyranny is dead.

Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the
streets. Sum to the common pulpits and

cry out liberty, freedom, and
enfranchisement. People and senators, be

not affrighted, fly not, stand still,
ambition's dead.

Antony. Fled to his house amazed.

Men, wise children, stare, shout out as
it were doomsday.

O fate, we will know your pleasures.

Then we shall die, we know.

Tis but the time and drawing days out
that men stand upon.

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of
life cuts off so many years of fearing

death. Grant that, and then is death a
benefit.

So are we Caesar's friends that have
abridged his time of fearing death.

Stoop! Romans, stoop and let us bathe
our hands in Caesar's blood up to the

elbows, then besmear our swords, then
walk we forth even to the marketplace

and waving our red weapons o'er our
heads.

country liberty.

What, shall we forth?

Ay, every man away, Brutus shall leave,
and we will grace his heels with the

most noblest and best hearts of Rome.

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's hour, nor no instrument

of half that worth as those your swords
made rich.

with the most noblest blood of all the
world. I do beseech ye, if you bear me

hard, now, whilst your purpled hands do
reek and smoke, fulfil your pleasure,

or live a thousand years, I shall not
find myself so apt to die. No place

shall please me so, no means of death,
as here, by Caesar and by you cut off,

the choice and master spirits of this
age. Oh, 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 as fire drives out
fire so pity pity have done this deed

on Caesar for your part to you Our
swords have leaden points, Mark

Antony, our arms in strength of
vengeance, and our hearts of brother's

temper, to 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 will I shake with

you.

Next Gaius Cassius do I take your hand.

Now yours, Metellus.

Yours, sinner.

And my valiant Casca, yours.

though last, not least in love, yours,
good Trebonius.

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. 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? Of 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.

Our reasons are so full of high regard
that were you, Antony, the son of

Caesar, you should be satisfied.

Well, that's all I seek.

And I'm moreover suited that I may
produce his body to 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, Antony, speak at his
funeral. Know you how much the people

may be moved by that which he will
utter.

By your patience, 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. It shall advantage more than
do us wrong.

I know not what may fall.

I like it not.

Come, Antony.

Take your Caesar's body.

You shall not in your funeral speech
blame us, but speak all good you can

devise of Caesar and say you'd do it
with our permission. Else shall you not

have any hand at all about his funeral.
Be it so, I do desire no more.

Prepare the body, then, and follow us.

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 time.

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
deeds, and Caesar's spirit ranging

for revenge, with Artae by his side,
come hot from hell, shall in these

confines, with a monarch's voice,

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, and bid me say to you by word of

mouth.

O Caesar!

Thy heart is big.

Get thee apart.

and weep.

Get thee apart and weep.

Passion I see is catching.

For mine eyes, seeing those beads of
sorrow stand in thine, began to water.

Is thy master coming?

He lies tonight within seven leagues of
Rome. We'll 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.

High hence and tell him so.

Yet, yet, yet, stay a while.

Thou shalt not back till I have borne
this corpse into the marketplace.

There shall I 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.

Lend me your hand.

Be patient to the last.

Romans, countrymen and lovers, hear me
for my cause and be silent that you

may hear.

Believe me for mine honour and have
respect to mine honour that you may

believe.

Assure 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,

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.

rather Caesar were living to die all
slaves than that Caesar were dead and

live all free men.

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 is tears for his love.

honour for his valour, joy for his
fortune, and death for his ambition.

Who is here so base that would be a
bondman?

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.

Then none have I offended.

I have done no more to Caesar than you
shall do to Brutus.

when it shall please my country to need
my death.

Here comes Mark Antony, who though he
had no hand in Caesar's death, yet shall

receive a place in the commonwealth, as
which of you shall not.

Hearken to his speech, tending to
Caesar's glories, which by our

permission he is allowed to make.

Not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them.
The good is often turid 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.

I'm the leave of Brutus and the rest,
for Brutus is an honourable man. So are

they all, all honourable 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 honourable 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 hath cried, Caesar
hath wept.

Ambition should be made of sterner
stuff, yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

and Brutus is an honourable man.

You all did see that at our festival 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 honourable man.

Now 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 then 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.

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
honourable men.

I will not do them wrong. I'd rather
choose to wrong myself, to wrong the

dead and you, than I will wrong such
honourable 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.

Have patience, gentle friends.

I must not read it.

It is not meat 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.

Tis good you know not that you are his
heirs. But if you did, oh, what would

come of it?

Will you be patient?

Will you stay a while? I have shot
myself to tell you of it. I fear I wrong

the honourable men whose daggers have
stabbed Caesar. I do fear it.

Compel me then to read the will. Yes.
Shall I attend?

Yes. Will you give me leave? Yes.

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 nervy eye.

Look, in this place ran Cassius Dagger
through.

See what a wrench 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
stabbed in gratitude more strong than

traitor's arms, quite vanquished him.

Then, great Caesar fell.

Oh, what a fool was there, my
countrymen. Then you and I, yea, all of

us fell down whilst bloody treason
flourished over us.

Oh, now you weep.

And I perceive you feel the dint of
pity. These are gracious drops.

Kind souls, what weep you when you but
behold our Caesar's vesture wounded?

Look you here.

Here is himself marred, as you see, by
traitors.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not
stir you up to such a sudden flood of

mutiny. They that have done this deed
are honourable.

What private griefs they have, alas, I
know not that made them do it. They are

wise and honourable, and will no doubt
with reasons answer you. I come not,

friends, to steal away your heart.

I am no orator, as Brutus is.

But as you know me all, a plain, blunt
man, that love his friends, and that

they know full well, that gave me public
leave to speak of him. For I have

neither wit, nor worth, nor words,
action, nor utterance, nor the power of

speech to stir men's blood.

I only speak right on, and 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

move the stones of Rome to rise and
mutiny.

My friends, you go to do you know not
what, or wherein hath Caesar thus

deserved your loves. And as you know
not, I will tell you then, you have

forgot the will I told you of.

Here is the will, and under Caesar's
seal, to every Roman citizen he gives,

to every several man.

A hundred drachmas!

Moreover, he hath left you all his
walks, his private arbours, and new

-planted orchards on this side Tiber.

He hath left them you and to your heirs
for...

Let it work.

Mischief thou art afoot.

Take thou what course thou wilt.

I dreamt tonight that I did feast with
Caesar, and

things unluckily charge my fantasy.

I have no will to wander forth.

Oh, you're fucking kidding. What?

Can we have the lights back?

I dreamt tonight that I did feast with
Caesar and things unluckily charged

my fantasy.

I have no will to wander forth of doors,
yet something leads me forth. What is

your name?

Whither are you going?

Where do you live?

Are you a married man or a bachelor?

Answer every man directly.

Aye, and briefly.

Aye, and wisely.

Aye, and truly you are best. Aye, truly
you are best. What is my name? Where am

I going?

Where do I dwell?

Am I a married man or a bachelor?

Then to answer every man directly and
briefly, wisely and truly, wisely I say

I am a bachelor.

Oh, that's as much as to say they are
fools that are married.

You'll bear me a bang for that tag.

going to see this funeral?

As a friend or an enemy? As a friend.
That matter is answered directly.

For your dwelling, briefly.

Briefly, I dwell by the capital.

Your name, sir, truly.

From the last bit, just the last bit.

These many then shall die, their names
are pricked.

Your brother?

Two must die.

Consent you, Lepidus? I do consent.

Prick him down, Anthony. 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 ye to Caesar's house,
fetch the will hither, and we shall

determine how to reduce.

the people's legacies. What shall I find
you here?

Or here, or at the capital.

This is a slight, unmeritable man, meet
to be sent on errands. Is it fit, the

threefold world divided, he should stand
one of the three to share 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 honours 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 business where we will, then
take we down his load and turn him off,

like to the empty ass, to shake his ears
and graze on commons.

You may do your will.

But he is a tried and valiant soldier.

So is my horse, Octavius.

It is a creature that I teach to fight,
to wind, to stop, to run directly on.

His corporal motion governed by my
spirit. Do not talk of him, but as a

property.

And now, Octavius, listen. Great things.

Brutus and Cassius are levying powers.

We must straight make head.

Therefore, let our alliance be combined.

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 bade about with many enemies,

and some that smile, I fear, have in
their hearts millions of mischiefs.

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 that... Cassius,

be content.

Speak your grief 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.

Pindereth. Bid our commanders lead their
charges off a little from this ground.

Dardanus, do you the like, and let no
man come to our tent till we have done

our conference.

That

you

have wronged me doth appear in this. You
have condemned and disgraced Lucius.

but taking bribes here of the Sardians,
whereas my letters preying on his side,

because I knew the man was slighted off.
You wronged yourself to write in such a

case. In such a time as this, it is not
meet that every small offence should

bear a 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 speaks
this, or by the gods this speech, or

else you're lost. Remember March, the
Ides of March, remember.

Did not great Caesar bleed for justice'
sake?

What villain touched his body and 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
honours for so much trash as may be

grasped at us? I'd rather be a dog and
bathe the moon than such a Roman.

Brutus, bait not me.

I'll not endure it.

You forget yourself to hedge me in. I am
a soldier. I, older in practice and

abler than yourself.

To make conditions. You are not,
Cassius. I am. I say you are not.

Urge me no more. I shall forget myself.
Away, slight man.

If possible. Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash
collar?

Shall I be frighted when a madman
stares?

Ye gods, ye gods, must I endure all
this? All this? Aye, more.

Fret till your proud heart break.

Go show your slaves how choleric you
are. Make your bondmen tremble. Must I

budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand
and crouch under your testy humour 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. 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. Please, please, 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 like 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 by heaven I'd
rather coin my heart and drop my blood

for drachmas than to wring from the hard
hands of peasants their vile trash by

any indirection I did send to you for
gold to feed my legions which you denied

me. Was this done like Cassius? Should I
have answered Gaius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous to
lock such rascal counters from his

friends, be ready, gods, with all your
thunderbolts, dash him to pieces. I

denied you not. You did. I did not.

He was but a fool that brought my answer
back.

Brutus hath rived my heart.

A friend should bear his friend's
infirmities. Brutus makes mine greater

than they are. 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 a weary of this world. Hated

by what he loves.

Braved by his brother.

Checks like a bondman. All his faults
observed, set in a notebook.

Learned and conned by rota, cast into
petite.

Ah!

Near my dagger, and here my naked
breast, within a heart dearer than

Pluto's mine, richer than gold. If that
thou be'st a Roman, take it forth.

I that denied thee gold will give my
heart.

Strike as thou didst to Caesar, for I
know when thou didst hate him worse thou

lovedst him better than ever thou
lovedst Cassius.

Sheathe thy dagger!

When thou wilt, it shall have scope.

O Cassius!

O, you are yoked with a lamb That
carries anger as the flint bears

fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty
spark And straight is cold again.

But Cassius lived to be but mirth and
laughter To his Brutus, when

blood and grief ill-tempered vexed him.

When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered
too.

Do you confess so much? Give me your
heart. And my heart too. What the fuck

are you doing back there?

Just either get off the stage or do
something useful on it. Go on, little

shit.

I did not know you could have been so
angry.

Oh, 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's dead.

How scaped I killing when I crossed you
so?

Oh, insupportable and touching loss.

Upon what sickness?

Impatient of my absence and grief that
young Octavius and Mark Antony have made

themselves so strong, for with her death
those tidings came.

With this she grew distract, and her
attendants, absent,

swallowed fire and died so.

Even so are ye immortal gods.

Speak no more of her.

Come, Lucius, a bowl of wine.

In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

My heart is thirsty for that noble
pledge. Fill, Lucius, to the wine or

swell the cup.

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

Come in, Trebonius.

Welcome, good Casca.

Come, sit we close and call in question
our necessities.

No more, I pray you.

Casca, I have here received letters that
Octavius and Mark Antony come down upon

us with a mighty power.

Myself have letters on the self-seemed
tenor. With what edition?

Octavius, Antony and Lepidus have put to
death a hundred senators.

Mine speak of seventy that died.

Had you your letters from your wife, my
lord?

No, Casca.

Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

Nothing, Casca.

That methinks is strange.

Why, heard you ought of her in yours?

No, my lord.

Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.

Then like a Roman, bear the truth I
tell.

For certain she is dead, and by strange
manner.

Why, farewell Portia.

We must die, Casca.

With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.

Just so great men great losses should
endure.

So, 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 men,

doing himself offence, whilst we lying
still are full of rest, defence and

nimbleness. Good reasons must a force
give place to better.

Our 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.

Lucius, my gown.

My dear brother.

This was an ill beginning of the night.

Never let such division come between our
souls.

Let it not, Brutus. Everything is well.

Good night, my lord.

Good night, good brother.

Good night, Lord Brutus. Farewell,
everyone.

Where is my gown?

Here, my lord.

What? Thou speaks drowsily.

Poor knave, I do not blame you.

Thou art o'erwatched.

Oh, 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.

Forgive me, boy.

I'm much forgetful.

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a
while and play thy instrument a strain

or two?

Aye, my lord, and if it please you. It
does, my boy.

I trouble you too much, but thou art
willing. It is 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.

And you shall sleep again?

I will not hold thee long.

If I do live, I will be good to thee.

I was very sad last night you came by I
was

so glad my sadness covered the smile I

kept for you I was waiting for the

cloud to pass over then

You could have made me laugh, you could
have stayed but

Please forgive me.

I shall see thee again.

Why, I will see thee at Philippi then.

Ill spirit, I would have more talk with
thee.

Boy, Lucius. My lord.

Didst thou dream, boy, that thou so
criedst out?

My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

Yes, thou didst.

Didst thou see anything?

Nothing, my lord.

Go.

Commend me to my brother Cassius. Bid
him set on his powers betimes before,

and we will follow.

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 forces are at
hand. Cut!

I am in their bosoms, and I know
wherefore they do it. They 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, aye.

Keep thou the last? Why do you cross me
in this exigent? I do not cross you, but

I will do so.

Make forth. The generals would have some
words.

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!

Antony, the posture of your blows is yet
unknown.

But for your words, you rob the Hibbler
bees and leave them honeyless.

Not stingless, too. Oh, yes, and
soundless, too. For you have stolen

their buzzing, Antony, and very wisely
threat before you sting. Villains!

You did not so when your vile daggers
hacked one another in the sides of

Caesar. You showed your teeth like apes
and fawned like hounds and bowed like

bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet, whilst
damned Casca, like a cur behind, struck

Caesar in the neck. Oh, you flatterers.

Flatterers. Now, Brutus, thank yourself.

This tongue had not offended so today if
Cassius might have ruled.

Honk on the cause.

If arguing make us sweat, The proof of
it will turn to redder drops.

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. I was not born

to die on Brutus's sword. Oh, if thou
wert the noblest of thy strain, young

man, thou couldst not die more
honourable. A beavish schoolboy,

worthless of such an honour, joined by a
masker and a reveller. Old Cassius!

Come, Anthony, away.

Defiance, traitors.

Hurl wee in your teeth.

If you dare fight today, come to the
field. If not, when you have stomachs.

Today is my birthday.

Hooray!

On this very day was Cassius born.

Happy birthday.

Be thou my witness that against my will
am I compelled to set upon one battle

all our liberties.

Coming from Sardis, on our foremost
ensign, two mighty eagles fell, and

there they perched, 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, ravens, crows, and
kites fly o'er our heads and downward

look on us as we were sickly prey.

The 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 fully
resolved to meet all perils very

constantly.

Most noble Brutus, the gods today stand

friendly that we may, lovers in peace,
lead on our days to age.

But since the affairs of men rest still
uncertain, let's reason with the worst

that may befall.

If we do lose this battle, it is this
the very last time we shall speak

together.

What are you then determined to do?

I know not how, but I do find it
cowardly and vile for fear of what might

fall. So to cut off the time of life, I
arm myself with patience to await the

providence of some high powers that
govern us below.

Then if we lose this battle, you are
contented to be led in triumph through

the streets of Rome. Oh, good Cassius,
think not, thou noble Roman, that ever

Brutus shall go.

bound to Rome.

He bears too great a mind.

No, but this same day must end that work
the Ides of March begun.

And 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 will smile
indeed.

If not, tis true, this parting was well
made.

Why then, lead on.

Oh, that a man might know the end of
this day's business ere it come.

But it sufficeth that the day will end,
and then the end is known.

Come, ho, away!

whether your troops be friend or enemy.
I will be here again, even in a thought.

Pindarus, climb higher on that hill. My
sight was ever thick.

Regard Shabonius, and tell me what thou
know'st about the field.

This day I breathe at first.

Time is come round, and where I did
begin, there shall I

end.

My life has run his compass.

Cyra, what news?

Trebonius is enclosed round about with
horsemen that make to him on the spur,

yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on
him. Now Trebonius, now some dismount.

Oh, he dismounts too.

coward that I am, that I should live so
long to see my best friend tain before

my face.

Come hither, Syrah.

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.

And now keep thine oath.

Thou be a free man.

And with this sword that ran through
Caesar's bowel, search this bosom.

Stand not to answer.

Come, here, take thou the hilt.

And when my face is covered, as just
now, guide thou the sword.

Caesar, thou art revenged, even with the
sword that killed 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 make

note of him.

Cassius is overthrown by noble brutus
power.

These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

Oh, my heart.

Why did thou send me forth, brave
Cassius?

Alas, thou hast misconstrued ev-

Oh, Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet.

Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our
swords in our own proper entrails.

The last of all the Romans.

Fare thee well.

It is impossible that ever Rome should
breed thy fellow.

Gentlemen, I owe more tears to this dead
man than you shall see me pay.

I shall find time, good Cassius.

I shall find time.

Come then, and to Thassos bear his body.
His funeral shall not be in our camp,

lest it discomfort us.

Let us to the field.

And Romans, yet ere night, we shall try
fortune.

Volumnius, listen to the word. What do
you want, sir?

Why this, Volumnius?

The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me
two separate times by night. I saw this

once, and this last night here in
Philippi Fields. I know my hour is come.

Don't say that, sir. May I? I know it
is.

Volumnius, thou seest the world,
Volumnius, how it goes. The enemy hath

beat us to the pit.

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
than tarry till they push us.

O good Volumnius, now those we went to
school together, even for that our love

of old.

I pretty hold down my sword-hilts whilst
I run on it.

Fly, my lord, fly.

There is no carrying here.

Farewell to you and you and you.

Gentlemen, my heart doth joy that yet in
all my life I found no man but he was

true to me. I shall have glory by this
losing day, more than Mark Antony and

Octavius by their vile conquest shall
attain unto.

So fare thee well.

My bones would rest.

that have but laboured to attain this
hour.

Fly, my lord, fly.

Hence I will follow.

Come on.

Lucius, stay thou by thy lord.

Thou art a fellow of a good respect.

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour
in't.

Hold then my sword while I do run on it,
wilt thou, boy?

Give me your hand first.

Fare you well, my lord.

Farewell, good Lucius.

Caesar, lie thou still.

I killed not thee with half so good a
will.

What man is that?

Ay, it's Brutus' man, Lucius. He's free
from the bondage you are in, Casca. The

conquerors can but make a fire of him,
for Brutus only overcame himself, and no

man else hath honour by his death.

All that served Brutus, I will entertain
them.

How died thy master, Lucius?

I held the sword, and he did run on it.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time

with me?

This was the noblest Roman of them all.

All the conspirators, save only he.

did what they did in 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 rights of burial.

Within my tent tonight, His bones shall
lie most like a soldier, ordered

honourably.

And so, call the field to rest and let's
away to part the

glories of this happy day.

Walk, Rochelle.

What is this?

Down you come, Hannes.

Not even finished. You can't stop it
yet.

We won't get another chance, you know.

It's our last chance.

You stopped it before it finished.

It never fucking finishes. This isn't
the end.

Never is the fucking end.

The world's going to hell. We can't do
anything in here.

You've got to do something.