All language subtitles for National.Theatre.Live.Julius.Caesar.2018.720p.WEB-DL-English

Stop! Home! Home!

Hence! Home, you idle creatures, get you home!

Is this a holiday?
- Yes!

Speak, what trade are you?

A... cobbler

Why dost thou lead these men into the streets?

To wear out their shoes,
to get myself into more work

But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

We make holiday to see Caesar
and to rejoice in his triumph

Caesar! Caesar!

Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
Knew you not Pompey?

Pompey!
- Pompey-lover!

Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,

To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
Your infants in your arms,

and there have sat
The livelong day, with patient expectation,

To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome

And do you now put on your best attire?

And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?

Pompey's dead, love
- Get over it!

Caesar! Caesar!

Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault
Assemble all the poor men of your sort,

Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel,

til the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shore of all

Go you down that way towards the Capitol.
This way will I. Pull down the images

May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal

It is no matter. Let no images
Be hung like Caesar's trophies

These growing feathers plucked from Caesar's wing
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men
And keep us all in servile fearfulness

Calpurnia!
- Here, my lord

Stand you directly in Antonius' way
When he doth run his course

Antonius
- Caesar, my lord

Forget not in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calpurnia, for our elders say...

...The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their sterile curse

I shall remember.
When Caesar says 'Do this', it is performed

Set on, leave no ceremony out

Caesar!
- Ha! Who calls?

Bid every noise be still
- Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a voice shriller than all the music
Cry 'Caesar

Speak. Caesar is turned to hear

Beware the ides of March

What thing is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March

Set him before us. Let us see his face

Fellow, come from the throng: look upon Caesar

What is it thou sayest to me? Speak once again

Beware the ides of March

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass

Will you go see the order of the course?

Not I
- I pray you, do

I am not gamesome. I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires

Brutus, I do observe you now of late

I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have

You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you

Cassius, be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance only 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, will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of

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

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

Then 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 and 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: 'Darest 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

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 shoulders
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...

...who must bend her body
If Caesar carelessly but nod on her

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, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
Mark him and write his speeches in their books,

'Alas, it cried, 'Give me some drink, Cassius',
As a sick girl

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 creatures
Walk under his huge legs and peep about...

...To find ourselves dishonorable graves

Men at some time are masters of their fates

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings

'Brutus' and 'Caesar': what should be in that 'Caesar'?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name:
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well:

Weigh them, it is as heavy: conjure with 'em,
'Brutus' will start a spirit as soon as 'Caesar'

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed
That he is grown so great?

Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, Tl now, that talked of Rome,
That her wide walks encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough
When there is in it but one only man

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.
What you would work me to, I have some aim

How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

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

...Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us

I am glad that my weak words
have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus

The games are done, and Caesar is returning

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,

And she will, after her sour fashion, tell you
What hath proceeded worthy note today

I will do so. But look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden train

Calpurnia's cheek is pale, and Cicero
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes...

...As we have seen him in the Capitol

Casca will tell us what the matter is

Antonius
- Caesar

Let me have men about me that are fat

Sleek-headed men, such as sleep at nights

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
She thinks too much. Such ones are dangerous

Fear her not, Caesar: she's not dangerous.
She is a noble Roman, and well given

Would she were fatter!

But I fear her not

Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I know no man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius

She reads much, she is a great observer,
and she sees clear through the deeds of men

She loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony: she hears no music

Seldom she smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if she mocked herself

Such ones as she are never at heart's ease
When they behold a greater than themselves,

And therefore they are very dangerous

I tell thee rather what is to be feared
Than what I fear: for always I am Caesar

Come on my right side, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of her

You pulled me by the coat. Would you speak with me?

Ay, Casca. Tell us what hath chanced today
That Caesar looks so sad

Why, you were with him, were you not?

I should not then ask Casca what had chanced

Why, there was a crown offered him

And, being offered him,
he put it by with the back of his hand, thus,

and then the people fell a-shouting

What was the second noise for?
- Why, for that too

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

Was the crown offered him thrice?

Ay, marry, 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

Tel 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: 'was one of these coronets),

and, as I told you, he put it by once: but for all that,
to my thinking, he would gladly 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 finger 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 had refused the crown...

...that it had almost choked Caesar,
for he swooned and fell down at it

And for Ming 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, foamed at mouth and was speechless

'Tis very like: he hath the falling sickness

No, Caesar hath it not: but you and I
And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness

I know not what you mean by that,
but I am sure Caesar fell down

What said he when he came unto himself?

When he came to himself again,
he said if he had done or said anything amiss,

he desired their Worships to think it his infirmity

Three or four wenches where I stood cried 'Alas,
good soul! and forgave him with all their hearts

But there's no heed to be taken of them

If Caesar had stabbed their mothers,
they would have done no less

And, after that, he came thus sad away?
- Ay

Did Cicero say anything?

Ay, he spoke Greek

To what effect?

Nay, an I tell you that,
I'll ne'er look you in the face again

But those that understood him
smiled at one another and shook their heads

But for mine own part, it was Greek to me

I could tell you more news too:

Marullus and Flavius,
for puling down Caesar's images, are put to silence

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

Will you sup with me tonight, Casca?
- No, I am promised forth

Will you dine with me tomorrow?

Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold,

and your dinner worth the eating

Good. I will expect you
- Do so. Farewell both

What a blunt talker is this grown to be!
She was quick mettle when she went to school

So is she now in execution
Of any bold or noble enterprise,

However she puts on this tardy form

This rudeness is a sauce to her good wit,

Which gives men stomach to digest her words
With better appetite

And so it is. For this time I will leave you

Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me,
I will come home to you

Or, if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you

I will do so. Till then, think of the world

Well, Brutus, thou art noble

Yet I see thy honourable mettle may be wrought
Away from that it is disposed to

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

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 shall be hinted at

And after this, let Caesar seat him sure:
For we will shake him, or worse days endure

What night is this!
- A very pleasing night to honest men

Who ever knew the heavens menace so?
- Those that have known the earth so full of faults

For my part, I have walked about the streets,
Submitting me unto the perilous night

This weighty business will not brook delay

Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
Most like this dreadful night,

A man no mightier than thyself or me
In personal action, yet prodigious grown,

And monstrous, as these strange eruptions are

'Tis Caesar that you mean, is it not, Cassius?

Let it be who it is

For Romans now
Have limbs and sinews like to their ancestors

But, woe the while, our fathers' minds are dead,
And we are governed with our mothers' spits

Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish

Indeed, they say the Senators tomorrow
Mean to establish Caesar as a king

I know where I will wear this weapon then:
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius

If I know this, know all the world besides,

That part of tyranny that I do bear
I can shake off at pleasure

So can I. So every slave in his own hand doth bear
The power to cancel his captivity

And why should Caesar be a tyrant, then?

Poor man, I know he would not be a wolf
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep

He were no lion, were not Romans hinds

What trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal,

when it serves for the base matter to illuminate
So vile a thing as Caesar!

But, O my grief, where hast thou led me?
I perhaps speak this before a wiling slave

You speak to Casca, and to such a one
That is no fleering tel-tale

Hold... Your hand

Make you a faction to redress these griefs,

And I will set this foot of mine as far
As who goes farthest

There's a bargain made

Now know you, Casca, I have moved already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans..

...To undergo with me an enterprise
Of honourable-dangerous consequence

And the complexion of the elements
Is like the work we mean to take in hand,

Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible

Stay close awhile, for here comes one in haste

'Tis Cinna: I do know him by his gait.
He is a friend

Cinna, where haste you so?

To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

No, it is Casca, one incorporate to our attempts

I am glad on 'it. What a fearful night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights

Indeed this is a strange disposed time

But men may construe things after their fashion,
Clean from the purpose of the things themselves

Cinna, am I not stayed for? Tell me

Yes, you are. O Cassius, if you could
But win the noble Brutus to our party -

Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper,

And look you lay it in the Praetor's chair,
Where Brutus may but find it

And throw this in at his window. All this done,
Repair to Pompey's Theatre, where you shall find us

is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

All but Metellus Cimber, and she's gone
To seek you at your house

Well, I will hie
And so bestow these papers as you bade me

That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre

Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day
See Brutus at his house

Three parts of him is ours already, and the man entire
Upon the next encounter yields him ours

I serve the Republic!

Help! Help! No! No...

What ho, Lucius! Lucius, I say!

I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly

When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! What, Lucius!

Called you, sit?

Get me a fire in my closet, Lucius.
When it is lighted, come and call me here

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 public good

He would be crowned:
How that might change his nature, there's the question

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder,
And that craves wary walking

Crown him king,
And then I grant we put a sting in him...

...That at his will he may do danger with

The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
Remorse from power

And, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known
when his passions ruled more than his reason

But 'tis a common proof

Humility 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. Then, lest he may, prevent

And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,

And kill him in the shell

The fire burneth in your closet, sir

Searching the window for a flint, I found
This letter, thus sealed up,

and I am sure
It did not lie there when I went to bed

Get you to bed again. It is not day

Is not tomorrow, Lucius, the ides of March?

I know not, sir

Look in the calendar, and bring me word
- I will, sir

Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake, and see thyself!
Shall Rome, 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 awe? What Rome?

My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
The Tarquin drive when he was called a king

'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated
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
- 'Tis good

Somebody knocks: go to the door

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, 'is Cassius at your door,
Who doth desire to see you

Is she alone?
- No, sir. There are more with her

Do you know them?

No, sir. Their hats are plucked about their ears,
And half their faces buried in their coats,

That by no means I may discover them
By any mark of favour

Let'em enter

They are the faction. O conspiracy,

Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night,
When evils are most free?

O, then, by day where wilt thou find a cavern
dark enough to mask thy monstrous visage?

Seek none, conspiracy.
Hide it in smiles and affability

For if thou put thy native semblance on,

Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention

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 all these that come along with you?

Yes, every one of them: and no one 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
- You are welcome

This, Decius Brutus
- She is welcome too

This, Casca: this, Cinna: and this, Metellus Cimber

You are all welcome

What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?

Shall I entreat a word?

Here lies the east:
doth not the day break through yonder window?

No

O pardon me, it doth: and yon gray lines
That fret the clouds are messengers of day

You shall confess that you are both deceived

Here the sun rises, and the high east
Stands, as the Capitol, directly here

Give me your hands all over, one by one

Let us swear our resolution

No, not an oath. If not the face of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse -

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

So let high-sighted tyranny range on
Til 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 oath than honesty to honesty engaged
That this shall be or we will fall for it?

So do not stain the even virtue of our enterprise,
Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,

To think that or our cause or our performance
Did need an oath

And what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us

Let us not leave him out
- No, by no means

O, let us have him, for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion...

...And buy men's voices to commend our deeds

O, name him not! For he will never follow anything
That other men begin

Then leave him out
- Indeed, he is not fit

Shall no one else be touched, but only Caesar?

Decius, well urged. I think it is not meet Mark Antony,
so well beloved of Caesar, should outlive Caesar

We shall find of him a shrewd contriver

And you know his means, if he improve them,
may well stretch so far as to destroy 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, he must bleed for it

And, gentle friends,

Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully

Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds

And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,

Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
And after seem to chide 'em

This shall make
Our purpose necessary and not envious:

Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be called purgers, 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 fear him,
For in the engrafted 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: to die of grief for Caesar

Nor will it come to that, for he is given
To sports, to wildness, and much company

There's naught to fear in him. Let him not die,
For he will live and laugh at this hereafter

Peace, count the clock

The clock hath stricken three
'Tis time to part

But it is doubtful yet
Whether Caesar will come forth today or no:

For he is superstitious grown of late,

Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies

It may be these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustomed terror of this night,

And the persuasion of his augurers
May hold him from the Capitol today

Never fear that. If he be so resolved,
I can o'ersway him

Let me work,
And I will bring him to the Capitol

Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him

By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost?

Be that the uttermost, and fail not then

Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
Who censored him for speaking well of Pompey

I wonder none of you have thought of him

Now, good Metellus, go along by him.
He loves me well, and I have given him reasons

Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him

The morning comes upon us. We'll leave you, Brutus

Good friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember
What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans

Brutus...

Good friends, look fresh and merrily.
Let not our looks put on our purposes,

But bear it, as our Roman actors do,
With untired spirits and formal constancy

And so good morrow to you every one

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 yesternight at supper
You suddenly arose, and walked about,

Musing and sighing, with your arms across,

And when I asked you what the matter was,
you answered not,

But with an angry wafture of your hand
Gave sign for me to leave you

Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief

I am not well in health, and that is all

Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it

Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed

Is Brutus sick?
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,

And tempt the vile contagion of the night
To add unto his sickness?

No, my Brutus:
You have some sick offence within your mind

Upon my knees, I charm you now to tell me
Why you are heavy,

and who were those tonight
That had resort to you:

for here have been some who did hide their faces
Even from darkness

Kneel not, gentle Portia

I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus

Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,

Is it excepted I should know no secrets
That appertain to you?

Am I yourself
But, as it were, in sort or limitation,

To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes?

Dwell I but in the suburbs
Of your good pleasure?

If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife

Lucius, who's that knocks?

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 should I know this secret

Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them

I have made strong proof of my constancy,
Giving myself these voluntary wounds

Can I bear these with patience,
And not my husband's secrets?

O ye gods...

Sir, there is a sick man that would speak with you
- Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of

Go in awhile, and by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart. Leave me with haste

Brutus! Brutus!

Caius Ligarius, how -?

Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue

O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a muffler! Would you were not sick

I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour

Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it

By all the gods that Romans bow before,
I here discard my sickness

Soul of Rome,
Brave son derived from honourable loins,

Thou like an exorcist hast conjured up
My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,

And I will strive with things impossible,
Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?

A piece of work that will make sick men whole

But are not some whole that we must make sick?

That must we also

What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee
as we are going to whom it must be done

Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight

"Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out
'Help ho, they murder Caesar"

Go bid the priests do present sacrifice,
And bring me their opinions of success

I will, my lord

What mean you, Caesar? Think you to walk forth?
You shall not stir out of your house today

Caesar shall forth. The things that threatened me
Ne'er looked but on my back

When they shall see
The face of Caesar, they are vanished

Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me

There is one within,

Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch

A lioness hath whelped in the streets,

And graves have yawned and yielded up their dead,
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 to stir forth today

Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
They could not find a heart within the beast

The gods do this in shame of cowardice

Caesar should be a beast without a heart
If he should stay at home today for fear

No, Caesar will 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

Alas, my lord,
Your wisdom is consumed in 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 you are not well today

Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this

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

Here's Decius Brutus: she shall tell them so

Good morrow, worthy Caesar.
I come to fetch you to the Senate House

And you are come in very happy time
To send my greetings to the Senators, and tell them...

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

I will not come today. Tell them so, Decius

Say he is sick

Shall Caesar send a lie?

Have I in conquest stretched my arm so far,
To be afeard to tell greybeards the truth?

Decius, go tell them: Caesar will not come

Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,
Lest I be laughed at when I tell them so

The cause is in my will. I will not come

That is enough to satisfy the Senate

But for your private satisfaction,
Because I love you, I will let you know:

Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home.
She dreamt tonight she saw my statue,

Which, like a fountain with a hundred spouts,
Did run pure blood

And many lusty Romans
Came smiling and did bathe their hands in it

And these does she apply for warnings and portents
And evils imminent,

and on her knees
Hath begged that I will stay at home today

This dream is all amiss interpreted.
It was a vision fair and fortunate

Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
In which so many smiling Romans bathed,

Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
Reviving blood

This by Calpurnia's dream is signified

And this way have you well expounded it

I have, when you have heard what I can say.
And know it now:

The Senate have concluded
To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar

If you shall send them word you will not go,
Their minds may change

Besides, it were a mock
Apt to be rendered, for someone to say -

'Break up the Senate Tl 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 your proceedings bids me tell you this

How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia!
I am ashamed that I did yield to them

Fetch me my clothes, for I will go

And see where Metellus Cimber is come to fetch me

Good morrow, Caesar
- Welcome, Metellus

What, Brutus, are you stirred so early too?

Good morrow, Casca

Caius Ligarius!

Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy
As that same ague which hath made you lean

What's o'clock?
- Caesar, 'is strucken eight

I thank you for your pains and courtesy

See, Antony that revels long a-nights
Is notwithstanding up

Good morrow, Antony
- And to most noble Caesar

Bid them prepare within.
I am to blame to be thus waited for

Now, Trebonius,
I have an hour's talk in store for you

Remember that you call on me today:
Be near, that I may remember you

Caesar, I will

(And so near will I be
That your best friends shall wish I had been further)

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

Caesar, beware of Brutus,
take heed of Cassius, come not near Casca

Have an eye to Cinna, trust not Trebonius,
mark well Metellus Cimber

Decius Brutus loves thee not.
Thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius

There is but one mind in all of these,
and it is bent against Caesar

If thou beest not immortal, look about you.
Security gives way to conspiracy

The mighty gods defend thee!
Thy lover, Artemidorus

If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live:
If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive

Caesar! Caesar!

The ides of March are come
- Ay, Caesar, but not gone

Hail, Caesar. Read this schedule

Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read,
At your best leisure, this his humble suit

O Caesar, read mine first, for mine's a suit
That touches Caesar nearer. Read it, great Caesar

That which touches us ourselves shall be last served

Delay not, Caesar: read it instantly

What, is that woman mad?
- Woman, give place

I wish your enterprise today may thrive

What enterprise, Popilius?
- Fare you well

What said Popilius Lena?

He wished today our enterprise might thrive.
I fear our purpose is discovered

Look how he makes to Caesar. Mark him

Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.
Brutus, what shall be done?

If this be known, Cassius or Caesar
never shall turn back, for I will slay myself

Cassius, be constant

Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes,
For look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change

Mark Antony!

Trebonius knows his time, for look you, Brutus,
He draws Mark Antony out of the way

Brutus
- Popilius

Decius

Where is Metellus Cimber? Let her go
And presently prefer her suit to Caesar

She is prepared. Press near and second her

Casca, you are the first that rears your hand

Are we all ready? Now, what is amiss
That Caesar and his Senate must redress?

Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,

Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
An humble heart

I must prevent thee, Cimber

These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,

And turn preordinance and first degree
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 sweet words,
Low-crooked curtsies, 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

Caesar, thou dost me wrong

Caesar never does wrong but with just cause

is there no voice more worthy than my own,

To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear
For the repealing of my banished brother?

I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar,

Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal

What, Brutus?

Pardon, Caesar: Caesar, pardon!

As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber

I could be well moved, if I were as you

If I could pray to move, prayers would move me

But I am constant as the Northern Star,

Of whose true fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament

The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks:
They are Al fire, and every one doth shine

But there's but one in all doth hold his place

So in the world: 'tis furnished well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive

Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank, unshaked of motion

And that I am he
Let me a little show it, even in this:

That I was constant Cimber should be banished,
And constant do remain to keep him so

Great Caesar!
- What, wilt thou lift up Olympus?

Speak, hands, for me!

Et Tu, Brute?

Then fall, Caesar

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets

"Some to the common pulpits and cry out
'Liberty, freedom, enfranchisement!"

People and Senators, be not affrighted.
Fly not: stand still. Ambition's debt is paid

Go to the pulpit, Brutus
- Where's Cicero?

Here, quite confounded with this mutiny

Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's
Should chance -

Talk not of standing. Cicero, good cheer

There is no harm intended to your person,
Nor to no Roman else. So tell them, Cicero

And leave us, Cicero, lest that the people,
Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief

Do so, and let no man abide this deed
But we the doers

Where is Antony?
- Fled to his house amazed

Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run
As it were doomsday

Fates, we will know your pleasures

That 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 and besmear our arms

"Then walk we forth, even to the market-place:
Let's all cry out 'Peace, freedom, liberty!"

Stoop then, and wash

How many ages hence...

...Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,

That now on Pompey's basis lies along
No worthier than the dust!

So oft as that shall be,

So often shall the knot of us be called
The ones that gave their country liberty

What, shall we forth?

Ay, everyone away

Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome

But here comes Mark Antony. Welcome, Antony!

O mighty Caesar, dost thou lie so low?

Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils
Shrunk to this little measure?

Fare thee well

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank

If I myself, there is no hour so fit
As Caesar's death's hour,

nor no instrument
Of half that worth...

...as those your hands made rich
With the most noble blood in all this world

I do beseech you, if you bear me hard,
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,

Fulfil your pleasure

Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die

No place will please me so, no mean of death,
As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,

The choice and master spirits of this age

O Antony, beg not your death of us!

Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,

As by our hands and this our present act
You see we do,

yet see you but our hands
And this the bleeding business they have done

Our hearts you see not: they are pitiful

And pity for the general wrong of Rome
Hath done this deed on Caesar

For your part, with brothers' temper, we 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 one render me his bloody hand

First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you

Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand

Now, Decius Brutus, yours: now yours, Metellus

Yours, Cinna: and, my valiant Casca, yours

Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius

Alas, what shall I say?

My credit now stands on such slippery ground
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,

Either a coward or a flatterer

That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true!

If then thy spirit look upon us now,

Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death
To see thy Antony making his peace,

Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes -
Most noble! - in the presence of thy corpse?

Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,

It would become me better than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies

Pardon me, Julius!

Here wast thou bayed, brave hart,
Here didst thou fall,

and here thy hunters stand
Signed in thy spoil and crimsoned in thy Lethe

O world, thou wast the forest to this hart,
And this indeed, O world, the heart of thee

How like a deer strucken by many princes
Dost thou here Li!

Mark Antony
- Pardon me, Caius Cassius

The enemies of Caesar shall say this:
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty

I blame you not for praising Caesar so.
But what compact mean you to have with us?

Will you be pricked in number of our friends,
Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed
Swayed from the point by looking down on Caesar

Friends am I with you all and love you all,
Upon this hope,

that you shall give me reasons
Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous

Or else were this a savage spectacle

Our reasons are so full of good regard..

...That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,
You should be satisfied

That's all I seek:

And am, moreover, suitor that I may
Produce his body to the market-place,

And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,
Speak in the order of his funeral

You shall, Mark Antony

Brutus, a word with you

You know not what you do. Do not consent
That Antony speak in his funeral

Know you how much the people may be moved
By that which he will utter?

By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first
And show the reasons of our Caesar's death

What Antony shall speak I will protest
He speaks by leave and by permission,

And that we are contented Caesar shall
Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies

It shall advantage more than do us wrong

I know not what may fall I like it not

Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body

You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,

But speak all good you can devise of Caesar,
And say you do it by our permission,

Else shall you not have any hand at all
About his funeral

And you shall speak in the same pulpit
whereto I am going, after my speech is ended

Be it so. I do desire no more

Prepare the body, then, and follow us

O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,

Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue:

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy

Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,

That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quartered with the hands of war,

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,

"Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war,

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men groaning for burial

You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?
- I do, sir

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

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

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

Hie hence and tell him so... Yet stay awhile

Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corpse
Into the market-place

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

We will be satisfied
- Let us be satisfied

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

Censure me in your wisdom,
and awake your senses that you may the better judge

If there be any in this assembly,
any dear friend of Caesar's,

to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar
was no less than his

If then that friend demand why Brutus
rose against Caesar, this is my answer.

Not that I loved Caesar less,
but that I loved Rome more

Had you rather Caesar were living, to die all slaves,
than that Caesar were dead, to 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 honour him.
But, as he was ambitious, I slew him

There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune,
honour for his valour, and death for his ambition

Who is here so base that would be a slave?
If any, speak, for him have I offended

Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman?
If any, speak, for him have I offended

Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
If any, speak, for him have I offended

I pause for a reply

None, Brutus, none

Then none have I offended. I have done no more
to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony,

who, though he had no hand in his death,
shall receive the benefit of his dying,

a place in the commonwealth: as which of you shall not?

With this I depart;
that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome,

I have the same weapon for myself
when it shall please my country to need my death

Live, Brutus, live, live!
- Let's bring him with triumph home into his house

Let him be Caesar
- Caesar's better parts shall be crowned in Brutus

We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamours

Brutus, Caesar! Brutus, Caesar!

My countrymen! Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
And, for my sake, stay here with Antony

Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech
Tending to Caesar's glories,

which Mark Antony
By our permission is allowed to make

I do entreat you, not a man depart,
Save I alone, til Antony have spoke

For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you

What did he say of Brutus?

He says for Brutus' sake
He finds himself beholden to us all

'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here
- This Caesar was a tyrant

Nay, that's certain. We're blest that Rome is rid of him
- Peace, let us hear what Antony has to say

You gentle Romans..
- Peace! Let us hear him

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears:
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him

The evil that men do lives after them:
The good is oft interred with their bones

So let it be with Caesar

The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answered it

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest -

For Brutus is an honourable man:
So are they all, all honourable Romans -

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 have 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 on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And sure he is an honourable man

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know

You all did love him once, not without cause.
What cause withholds you, 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

Methinks there is much reason in his sayings

If you consider rightly of the matter,
Caesar has had a great wrong

Has he, masters? I fear a worse will come in his place

Marked you his words? He would not take the crown:
Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious

If it be found so, some will suffer for it

Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping

Now mark him. He begins again to speak

But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world

Now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence

O masters, if I were disposed to steel
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,

I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable Romans

I will not do them wrong. I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,

Than I will wrong such honourable Romans

But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar.
I found it in his closet. 'Tis his will

Let but the commons hear this testament,
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,

And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood -

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory
And, dying, mention it within their wills,

Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue

We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony

Have patience, gentle friends. I must not read it

It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men

And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar,
It will inflame you: it will make you mad

'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs,
For if you should, O, what would come of it?

Read the will! We'll hear it, Antony
- You will compel me, then, to read the will?

Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,
And let me show you him that made the will

Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?
- Yes! Come down

Nay, press not so upon me. Stand far off

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now

You all do know this vesture

Look, in this place ran Cassius! bullet through.
See what a rent the envious Casca made

In this place the well-beloved Brutus struck.
Mark how the blood of Caesar coursed from 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 strike,

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquished him

Then burst his mighty heart,
And, muffling up his face, great Caesar fell

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Then I and you and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us

O, 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 with traitors

O piteous spectacle!
- O noble Caesar!

O woeful day!
- O traitors, villains!

O most bloody sight!

We will be revenged
- Revenge! Revenge!

Stay, countrymen

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

They that have done this deed are 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 hearts

I am no orator, as Brutus is,

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man
That loved my friend,

and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech
To stir men's blood

I only speak right on

I tell you that which you yourselves do know,

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me

But were I Brutus, and Brutus Antony,

there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits,

and put a tongue in every wound of Caesar
that should move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny

We'll mutiny
- We'll bum the house of Brutus

Friends, you go to do you know not what.
Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves?

Alas, you know not. I must tell you then.
You have forgot the will I told you of

Read the will

Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal

To every Roman citizen he gives,
To every several man, seventy-five drachmas

Hear me with patience

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 forever;

common pleasures,
To walk abroad and recreate yourselves

Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?

Never, never!
- Go fetch fire!

Caesar! Caesar!

Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot:
Take thou what course thou wilt

How now, fellow?

Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome
- Where is he?

He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house
- And thither will I straight to visit him

He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry
And in this mood will give us anything

I heard him say Brutus and Cassius
Are rid like madmen through the streets of Rome

Belike they had some notice of the people
How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius

What's your name?
- Where are you going?

I'm going to Caesar's funeral

As a friend or as an enemy?
- As a friend

Your name

My name is Cinna

Tear him to pieces! He's a conspirator

No, I am Cinna the post, I am Cinna the poet

Tear him for his bad verses!

I am not Cinna the conspirator

Tear him! Burn him! Tear him limb from limb!

This many, then, shall die: their names are pricked
- Your brother too must die. Consent you, Lepidus?

I do consent
- Mark him down, Antony

Upon condition Publius shall not live,
Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony

He shall not live: look, with a mark I damn him

But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house:
Fetch the will hither,

that we might determine
How to curtail dead Caesar's legacies

What, shall I find you here?
- Or here, or at the Capitol

This is a slight, unmeritable man,
Meet to be sent on errands

Is it fit, the 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 proscription

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

And having brought our treasure where we will,
Then take we down his load and turn him off,

Like to the empty ass,
to shake his ears and graze in commons

You may do your will,
But he's a tried and valiant friend

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:

And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so.
Do not talk of him but as a property

And now, Octavius, listen: great news!
Brutus and Cassius are levying powers

We must straight make head

Let us do so, for we are at the stake
And bayed about with many enemies

And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear,
Millions of mischief

Brutus!

Most noble brother, you have done me wrong

Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies?
And if not so, how should I wrong a sister?

Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs,
And when you do them -

Cassius, be content.
Speak your griefs softly. I do know you well

Before the eyes of these our soldiers here,
Which should perceive nothing but love from us,

Let us not wrangle

That you have wronged me doth appear in this:

You have condemned and disgraced Lucius Pella
For taking bribes,

Wherein my appeal, praying on his side
Because I knew the man, was slighted off

You wronged yourself to appeal in such a case

In such a time as this it is not meet
That every slight offence should be condemned

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 were else your last

The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head

Chastisement?

Remember March: the ides of March remember.
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?

What villain touched his body that did strike
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?

I had rather be a dog and bay 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, older in practice,
abler than yourself to make conditions

Go to! You are not, Cassius
- I am

I say you are not

Urge me no more. I shall forget myself.
Have mind upon your health. Tempt me no farther

Away, sight woman!
- Is 'it possible?

Hear me, for I will speak

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madwoman stares?

O you gods, you gods, must I endure all this?

All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break

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, Ill use you for my mirth,
yea, for my laughter, when you are waspish

Is it come to this?

You say you are a better soldier:
Let it appear so

Make your vaunting true, and it shall please me well
For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn

You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus

I said an elder soldier, not a better.
Did I say 'better'?

If you did, I care not

When Caesar lived he durst not thus have moved me

Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him

I durst not?
- No

What? Durst not tempt him?
- For your life you durst not

Do not presume too much upon my love.
I may do that I shall be sorry for

You have done that you should be sorry for

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,

For I am armed so strong in honesty
That they pass by me as the idle wind,

Which I respect not

I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me,

For I can raise no money by vile means

By heaven, I had 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 pay my legions,
Which you denied me

Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous
To lock such rascal money 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 broke my heart

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are

I do not, till you practice them on me

You love me not
- I do not like your faults

A friendly eye could never see such faults

A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world

Hated by one she loves, braved by her brother,
Checked like a slave, and all her faults observed,

Set in a notebook, learned and conned by rote
To cast into my teeth

O, I could weep my spirit from mine eyes!

There is my weapon, and here my breast

Within, there is a heart
Dearer than Pluto's Ming, 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 at Caesar,

for I know, when thou didst hate him worst,
thou lovedst him better than ever thou lovedst Cassius

Put up your weapon

Be angry when you will it shall have scope.
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour

O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
That caries anger as the flint bears fire,

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

Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to her Brutus,

When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?

When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too

Do you confess so much?

Give me your hand
- And my heart too

O Brutus!
- What's the matter?

Have not you love enough to bear with me,

When that rash humour which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?

Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,

He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so

I did not think you could have been so angry

O 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

Ha? Portia?

She is dead

Upon what sickness?

Impatient at my absence,

And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves so strong,

She fell distract, and, her attendants absent,

swallowed fire

And died so?

Even so

O ye immortal gods!

Speak no more of her

In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius

My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love

Come in, Trebonius. Welcome, good Decius

Now sit we close about this table here,
And call in question our necessities

Decius, I have received reports..

...That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with a mighty power,

Bending their expedition toward Philippi

I have reports of the selfsame tenor
- With what addition?

That by proscription and bills of outlawry,

Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus
Have put to death an hundred senators

Therein our reports do not well agree

Mine speak of seventy senators that died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one

Cicero one?
- Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription

Well, to our work alive. What do you think
Of moving on Philippi in the morning?

I do not think it good
- Your reason?

This it is: 'is better that the enemy seek us

So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
Doing himself offence,

whilst we, lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness

Good reasons must of force give place to better

The people Philippi and this ground
Do stand but in a forced affection,

For they have grudged us contribution

The enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,

Come on refreshed, new-added, and encouraged,
From which advantage shall we cut him off,

If at Philippi we do face him there,
These people at our back

Hear me, good brother...
- Under your pardon

You must note besides
That we have tried the utmost of our friends

Our legions are brim full our cause is ripe

The enemy increaseth every day:
We, at the height, are ready to decline

There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune:

Omitted, all the voyage of their life
is bound in shallows and in miseries

On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves...

...Or lose our ventures

Then, with your will, go on:
We'll along ourselves and meet them at Philippi

The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity,

Which we will outwit with a little rest.
There is no more to say

No more. Goodnight.
Early tomorrow will we rise and hence

Goodnight, Trebonius. Farewell, good Decius.
Noble, noble Cassius, goodnight and good repose

O my dear brother,
This was an ill beginning of the night

Never come such division "ween our souls!
Let it not, Brutus"

Everything is well

Goodnight, brother
- Goodnight, good sister

Farewell, everyone
- Goodnight

Where is thy instrument?

Here, sir

What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave,
I blame thee not: thou hast been too long awake

Call Claudius and some other of our number:
I'll have them sleep on cushions

Claudius. Varro

Calls my general?

I pray you all, le here and sleep

It may be I shall raise you by and by
On business to my sister Cassius

We will stand and watch

I will not have it so. Lie down.
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me

Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so

I was sure you did not give it me

Bear with me, Lucius, I am much forgetful

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

Ay, sir, an 'it please you

It does, my friend.
I trouble thee too much, but thou art wiling

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, sir, already

It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again.
I will not hold thee long

If I do live, I will be good to thee

When day is done

Down to earth then sets the sun

Though your battle will be lost and won
When day is done

When day is done

I hope so much that your race will be run

That you found you've jumped the gun

Have to start where you begun
When day is done...

This is a sleepy tune

O murderous slumber,

Layest thou thy leaden mace upon this youth,
That plays thee music?

Gentle knave, good night.
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee

If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument.
I'll take it Rom thee and, good boy, good night

Let me see... let me see

Is not the leaf turned down
Where I left reading?

Here it is, I think

How ill this taper burns

Who goes there?

I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition

Art thou any thing?

Speak to me what thou art

Thy evil spirit, Brutus

Why com'st thou?

To tell thee I shall see thee at Philippi

Well then, I shall see thee again?

Ay...

At Philippi

Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then

I'll spirit, I would hold more talk with thee

Lucius! Claudius, Varro! Claudius! Awake!

The strings are false

He thinks he still is at his instrument.
Lucius, awake!

General?

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

I do not know that I did cry out
- Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything?

No, nothing

Sleep again, Lucius

Claudius! Fellow thou, awake!
- General?

Why did you so cry out in your sleep?
- Did we, general?

Ay. Saw you anything?

No, general, I saw nothing
- Nor I, sir

Go, and commend me to my sister Cassius

Bid her set on her powers without delay,
And we will follow

It shall be done, general

Octavius, lead your battle softly on
Upon the left hand of the enemy

Upon the right hand, I: keep thou the left

Why do you cross me in this exigent?
- I do not cross you, but I will do so

No! They stand and would have parley

Stand fast, Trebonius. We must out and talk

Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge

Make forth. The Generals would have some words

Stir not until the signal

Words before blows: is it so, countrymen?

Not that we love words better, as you do

Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius

In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words

Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart,
Crying 'Long live, hail, Caesar Villains!

You did show your teeth like apes and fawn like hounds
And bend like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet,

Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind
Struck Caesar in the neck

O you flatterers!

Flatterers? Now, Brutus, thank yourself

This tongue had not offended so today
If Cassius might have ruled

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

I was not born to die by Brutus' hand

O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable

A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour,
Joined with a masker and a reveller!

Old Cassius still

Come, Antony, away!
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth

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

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is death!

Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard

Now, most noble Brutus,

If we do lose this battle, then is this
The very last time we shall speak together

What are you then determined to do?

Are you contented to be led in triumph
Through the streets of Rome?

No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman,
That ever Brutus will go bound through Rome

He bears too great a mind. 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'll smile indeed:

If not, is true this parting was well made

Why then, lead on

O, 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

Run, Decius, run,
Unto our troops upon the other side

Let them set on at once, for I perceive
A lack of spirit in Octavius wing

A quick assault gives them the overthrow.
Run, run, Decius! Let them all come down

O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early,

Who, having some advantage on Octavius,
Took it too eagerly

His soldiers fell to spoil:
Now we by Antony are all enclosed

Fly further off! Mark Antony is in your quarters!

Fly therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off

This place is far enough. Look, look, Trebonius,
Is that my quarters where I perceive the fire?

It is, general

Trebonius, if thou lovest me,
Hie thee to yonder troops and here again,

that I may rest assured
Whether yond troops are friend or enemy

I will be here again even with a thought

Go, Metellus, higher. My sight was ever thick

Regard Trebonius
And tell me what thou not'st about the battle

This is my birthday: this day I breathed first

Time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end

My life is run her compass

What news?

Trebonius is enclosed round about:
Now they are almost on him

Now, Trebonius!

He's taken. And hark, they shout for joy

O, coward that I am to live so long,
To see my best friends ta'en before my face!

Caesar, thou art revenged
Even with the weapon that killed thee

It is all change, Trebonius, for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,

As Cassius! legions are by Antony

These tidings will well comfort Cassius

Is not that she that lies upon that place?

She lies not like the living

O my heart!
- Is not that she?

No, this was she, Decius,
But Cassius is no more

O setting sun,
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night,

So in her red blood Cassius day is set

Mistrust of my success hath done this deed

Stay here, Trebonius, while I go to meet
The noble Brutus, thrusting this report into his ears

Hie thee, Decius

Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius?

Did I not meet thy friends?
Didst thou not hear their shouts?

Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything

Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius

Where, where, Decius, doth her body lie?
- Lo, yonder, and Trebonius mourning it

Trebonius' face is upward

He is slain

O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet

Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our weapons
In our own proper entrails

Are yet two Romans living such as these?
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well

Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead woman than you shall see me pay

I shall find time, Cassius: I shall find time

Come, therefore, and let's set our battles on

'Tis three o'clock, and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight

Come, poor remains of friends, rest here

Decius showed the torchlight, but
She came not back. She is or ta'en or slain

Sit thee down, Cinna. Slaying is the word:
It is a deed in fashion

Hark thee, Cinna

What, I? No, not for all the world

Peace, then, no words

I'll rather kill myself

Hark thee, Varro

Shall I do such a thing?

What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

To kill him

Look, he meditates

Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes

Come hither, good Popilius. List, a word

What says Brutus?
- Why this, Popilius:

The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me
Two several times by night. I know my hour is come

Not so, general
- Nay, I am sure it is, Popilius

Thou seest the world, Popilius, how it goes

Our enemies hath beat us to the pit

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

Good Popilius,
Thou know'st that we two went to school together

Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
Take thou my weapon and dispatch me hence

Brutus, that's not an office for a friend

Fly, fly! There is no tarrying here

Farewell to you: and you - and you, Popilius

Lucius, thou hast been all this while asleep

Farewell to thee, too

Countrymen, my heart doth joy...

...that yet in all my life
I found no one but he was true to me

I shall have glory by this losing day,

More than Octavius and Mark Antony
By this vile conquest shall attain unto

So fare you well at once, for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history

Fly, Brutus, fly!
- I prithee, Lucius, stay thou by me

Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it

Witt thou, Lucius?

Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord

Farewell, good Lucius

Caesar, now be still.
I killed not thee with half so good a will

What man is that?

Brutus' man. Lucius, where is the general?

Free from the bondage you are in, Decius

The conquerors can but make a fire of him,

For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no one else hath honour by his death

So Brutus should be found

This was the noblest Roman of them all

All the conspirators save only he
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar

He alone in general honest thought
And common good to all made one of them

His life was gentle, and the elements
So mixed in him...

...that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world 'This was a man'

According to his virtue, let us use him
With all respect and rites of burial

Within my house his bones tonight shall lie,
Most like a soldier, ordered honourably

So call the field to rest, and let's away
To part the glories of this happy day