Original subtitles

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.