All language subtitles for Julius.Caesar.2018.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX]

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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.

(# The Searchers:
"When You Walk In The Room")

# 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...

(All) # ...walk in the room! #

Let her through! Let her through!

What do you want?

Beware the Ides of March.

Ooh, bit of Shakespeare!

Here, 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 the Ides of March.

'Don't be surprised
by an upturn in your love life.

'You will feel more free
than you did in the last moon cycle.'

Well, that's rubbish. Go on, take that.
Take baby Annabel with you.

Now, where were we?

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 too strange a hand

Over your friend, that loves you.

Cassius
Be not deceived:

if I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself.

Vexed I am
Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself

Which give some soil, perhaps,
to my 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 things.

'Tis just,
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors
as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow:

I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome -

Except immortal Caesar -
speaking of Brutus,

And groaning
underneath this age's yoke,

Have wished
that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Into what dangers
would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me
seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Therefore, good Brutus,
be prepared to hear:

And since you know
you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection,

I your glass
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 use

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.

(All cheer)

What means this shouting?

I do fear the people
Choose Caesar for their king.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think
you would not have it so

I would not, Cassius,
yet I love him well.

But wherefore
do you hold me here so long?

What is it
that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honour in one eye,
and death i'th'other,

And I will look on both indifferently.

For let the gods so speed me,
as 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.

Well, honour 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 live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar,
so were you:

We both have fed as well,

and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he,

For once,
upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber
chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me,
'Dar'st thou, Cassius, now

'Leap in with me into this angry flood
And swim to yonder point?'

Upon the word,
Accoutrd as I was,

I plungd in
And bade him follow: so indeed he did.

The torrent roared,
and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews,
throwing it aside,

And stemming it
with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive
the point proposed,

Caesar cried,
'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'

I - as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy
upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear -
so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar:
and this man

Is now become a god,
and Cassius is

A wretched creature,
that must bend his body

If Caesar carelessly
but nod on him.

He had a fever
when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him
I did mark

How he did shake:
'tis true, this god did shake,

His coward lips
did from their colour fly,

And that same eye,
whose bend doth awe 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', it cried,
'Give me some drink, Cassius',

As a sick girl.
Ye gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

(All shout)

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 peep about

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,
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 as fair a name:

Sound them,
it doth become the mouth as well:

Weigh them, it is as heavy:
conjure with 'em,

Brutus will start a spirit
as soon as Caesar.

Now in the name
of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat
doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? -
Age, thou art shamed!

When could they say,
till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walks
encompassed but one man?

But woe the while,
our fathers' minds are dead,

And we are governed
with our mothers' spirits:

Our yoke and sufferance
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 a time.

Both meet to hear
and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend,
chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager
Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under 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.

The games are done,
Caesar is returning.

(Jubilant music)

Antonio.

Caesar?

Let me have men about me
that are fat,

(All) Yes!

Sleek-headed men,
and such as sleep a-nights.

Yond Cassius has
a lean and hungry look:

He thinks too much:

(Laughter)

such men are dangerous.

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 is a great observer,

and 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

Whiles they behold
a greater than themselves,

And therefore
are they very dangerous.

I rather tell thee
what is to be feared

(Laughter)

I rather tell thee what is to be feared
Than what I fear,

- for always I am Caesar.
- (All) 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 hath chanced today

That Caesar seems 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 him thrice?

Ay, marry, was't, 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 be hanged
as tell the manner of it:

it was mere foolery,
I did not mark it.

I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown -
yet 'twas not a crown neither,

'twas 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,
he 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 rabblement 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 mine 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 scarves
off Caesar's images,

is to be put to silence.

Fare you well. There was more
foolery yet, if I could remember it.

Will you sup with me tonight, Casca?

No, I am promised forth.

Will you dine with me tomorrow?

Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold,
and your dinner worth the eating.

- 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 honourable mettle may be wrought

From that it is disposed:
therefore it is meet

That noble minds
keep ever with their likes

For who so firm
that cannot be seduced?

Caesar doth bear me hard,
but he loves Brutus.

Were I Brutus now,
and he Cassius,

He should not humour me.

I will this night
In several hands in at his windows throw

As if they came from several citizens,

Writings all tending to the great opinion

That 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.

What, Lucius, ho?

I cannot by the progress of the stars

Give guess how near to day -
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 mean
to establish Caesar as a king.

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

It is the bright day
that brings forth the adder,

And that craves wary walking:
crown him that,

And then I grant
we put a sting in him,

That at his will
he may do danger with.

Th'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 upmost round,

He then unto the ladder turns his back,

Looks in the clouds,
scorning the base degrees

By which he did ascend:
so Caesar may;

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 Rome, etc.
Speak, strike, redress.'

'Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake!'

Such instigations
have been often dropped

Where I have took them up.

'Shall Rome, etc.'
Thus must I piece 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 receivest

Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus.

Sir, March is wasted fifteen days.

T'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 a hideous dream:

The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council,

and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom,

suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.

Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,
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.

Let 'em enter.

I think we are too bold upon your rest.

Good morrow, Brutus,
do we trouble you?

I have been up this hour,
awake all night.

Know I these men
that come along with you?

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 Cimber.

They are all welcome.

What watchful cares
do 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.

No, 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 drop by lottery.

But if these,
As I am sure they do, bear fire enough

To kindle cowards,
and to steel with valour

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 them
may well stretch so far

As to annoy us all: which to prevent,
Let Antony and Caesar fall together.

Our course will seem too bloody,
Caius Cassius,

To cut the head off
and then hack the limbs -

Like wrath in death
and envy afterwards -

For Antony is but a limb of Caesar.

Let's be sacrificers,
but not butchers, Caius.

We all stand up
against the spirit of Caesar,

And in the spirit of men
there is no blood.

O, that we then could come by
Caesar's spirit

And not dismember Caesar!

But, alas,
Caesar must bleed for it.

And, gentle friends,

Let's kill him boldly,
but not wrathfully:

Let's carve him
as a dish fit for the gods,

Not hew him as a carcass
fit for hounds.

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 in the ingrafted love
he bears to Caesar -

Alas, good Cassius,
do not think of him:

If he love Caesar,
all that he can do

Is to himself -
take thought and die for Caesar.

And that I doubt he should,
for he is given

To sports,
to wildness and much company.

We have no fear of him;
let him not die,