ACT 1
Scene 2
...in servile fearfulness.
Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.
...man is that?
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
...of the course?
Not 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.
I’ll leave you.
...that loves you.
Cassius,
Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexèd I am
Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one)
Nor construe any further my neglect
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.
...see your face?
No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself
But by reflection, by some other things.
...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?
...Flourish and shout.
What means this shouting? I do fear the people
Choose Caesar for their king.
...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 honor 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 honor more than I fear death.
...alone. Shout. Flourish.
Another general shout!
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.
...as a king.
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. For this present,
I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
Be any further moved. What you have said
I will consider; what you have to say
I will with patience hear, and find a time
Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:
Brutus had rather be a villager
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
...and his train.
The games are done, and Caesar is returning.
...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.
Calphurnia’s cheek is pale, and Cicero
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes
As we have seen him in the Capitol,
Being crossed in conference by some senators.
...speak with me?
Ay, Casca. Tell us what hath chanced today
That Caesar looks so sad.
...were you not?
I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.
...people fell a-shouting.
What was the second noise for?
...for that too.
Was the crown offered him thrice?
...crown? Why, Antony.
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
...and was speechless.
’Tis very like; he hath the falling sickness.
...no true man.
What said he when he came unto himself?
...done no less.
And, after that, he came thus sad away?
...so. Farewell both.
What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!
He was quick mettle when he went to school.
...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.
...of the world.
Brutus exits.
ACT 2
Scene 1
...sure of him.
Enter Brutus in his orchard.
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!
...you, my lord?
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius.
When it is lighted, come and call me here.
...will, my lord.
It must be by his death. And for my part
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crowned:
How that might change his nature, there’s the question.
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, to speak truth of Caesar,
I have not known when his affections swayed
More than his reason. But ’tis a common proof
That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his 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 since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities.
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg,
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell.
...went to bed.
Gives him the letter.
Get you to bed again. It is not day.
Is not tomorrow, boy, the ides of March?
...know not, sir.
Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
...I will, sir.
The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light that I may read by them. Opens the letter and reads.
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.
...days. Knock within.
’Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma or a hideous dream.
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council, and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.
...to see you.
Is he alone?
...more with him.
Do you know them?
...mark of favor.
Let ’em enter.
They are the faction. O conspiracy,
Sham’st thou to show thy dang’rous 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 path, thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention.
...we trouble you?
I have been up this hour, awake all night.
Know I these men that come along with you?
...This is Trebonius.
He is welcome hither.
...This, Decius Brutus.
He is welcome too.
...this, Metellus Cimber.
They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?
...entreat a word?
Brutus and Cassius whisper.
...Capitol, directly here.
coming forward with Cassius
Give me your hands all over, one by one.
...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
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 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 palter? And what other oath
Than honesty to honesty engaged
That this shall be or we will fall for it?
Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous,
Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls
That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear
Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain
The even virtue of our enterprise,
Nor th’ insuppressive mettle of our spirits,
To think that or our cause or our performance
Did need an oath, when every drop of blood
That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a several bastardy
If he do break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath passed from him.
...in his gravity.
O, name him not! Let us not break with him,
For he will never follow anything
That other men begin.
...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.
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.
...bears to Caesar—
Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him.
If he love Caesar, all that he can do
Is to himself: take thought and die for Caesar.
And that were much he should, for he is given
To sports, to wildness, and much company.
...hereafter. Clock strikes.
Peace, count the clock.
...to fetch him.
By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost?
...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.
...true Romans.
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily.
Let not our looks put on our purposes,
But bear it, as our Roman actors do,
With untired spirits and formal constancy.
And so good morrow to you every one.
Boy! Lucius!—Fast asleep? It is 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 sound.
...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.
...cause of grief.
I am not well in health, and that is all.
...come by it.
Why so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
...Even from darkness.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
He lifts her up.
...not his wife.
You are my true and honorable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
...my husband’s secrets?
O you gods,
Render me worthy of this noble wife!
Knock.
Hark, hark, one knocks. Portia, go in awhile,
And by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart.
All my engagements I will construe to thee,
All the charactery of my sad brows.
Leave me with haste. Lucius, who ’s that knocks?
...speak with you.
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of.—
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?
...a feeble tongue.
O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!
...name of honor.
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
...What’s to do?
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
...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.
...leads me on.Thunder.
Follow me then.
They exit.
Scene 2
...I will go.
Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, Trebonius, Cinna, and Publius.
...is ’t o’clock?
Caesar, ’tis strucken eight.
...straightway go together.
aside
That every like is not the same, O Caesar,
The heart of Brutus earns to think upon.
They exit.
ACT 3
Scene 1
...say to thee.
Flourish. Enter Caesar, Antony, Lepidus; Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna; Publius, Popilius, Artemidorus, the Soothsayer, and other Senators and Petitioners.
...to the Capitol.
Caesar goes forward, the rest following.
...Fare you well.
What said Popilius Lena?
...purpose is discoverèd.
Look how he makes to Caesar. Mark him.
...will slay myself.
Cassius, be constant.
Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes,
For look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.
...suit to Caesar.
He is addressed. Press near and second him.
...my banished brother?
kneeling
I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar,
Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
...hands, for me!
As Casca strikes, the others rise up and stab Caesar.
...freedom, and enfranchisement.”
People and Senators, be not affrighted.
Fly not; stand still. Ambition’s debt is paid.
...And Cassius too.
Where’s Publius?
...Caesar’s Should chance—
Talk not of standing.—Publius, good cheer.
There is no harm intended to your person,
Nor to no Roman else. So tell them, Publius.
...age some mischief.
Do so, and let no man abide this deed
But we the doers.
...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.
...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 swords.
Then walk we forth, even to the marketplace,
And, waving our red weapons o’er our heads,
Let’s all cry “Peace, freedom, and liberty!”
...then, and wash.
They smear their hands and swords with Caesar’s blood.
...accents yet unknown!
How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey’s basis lies along
No worthier than the dust!
...Enter a Servant.
Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony’s.
...my master Antony.
Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman.
I never thought him worse.
Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be satisfied and, by my honor,
Depart untouched.
...fetch him presently.
I know that we shall have him well to friend.
... Enter Antony.
But here comes Antony.—Welcome, Mark Antony!
...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 to the general wrong of Rome
(As fire drives out fire, so pity pity)
Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part,
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony.
Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts
Of brothers’ temper, do receive you in
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
...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.
...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.
...of his funeral.
You shall, Mark Antony.
...he will utter?
aside to Cassius
By your pardon,
I will myself into the pulpit first
And show the reason of our Caesar’s death.
What Antony shall speak I will protest
He 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.
...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 ’t 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.
...desire no more.
Prepare the body, then, and follow us.
All but Antony exit.
Scene 2
...me your hand.
Enter Brutus and Cassius with the Plebeians.
...us be satisfied!
Then follow me and give me audience, friends.—
Cassius, go you into the other street
And part the numbers.—
Those that will hear me speak, let ’em stay here;
Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;
And public reasons shall be renderèd
Of Caesar’s death.
...hear them renderèd.
Brutus goes into the pulpit.
...is ascended. Silence.
Be patient till the last.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my
cause, and be silent that you may hear. Believe me
for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor
that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom,
and awake your senses that you may the better
judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear
friend of Caesar’s, to him I say that Brutus’ love
to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend
demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my
answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved
Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and
die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all
freemen? 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, joy for his fortune, honor
for his valor, 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.
...None, Brutus, none.
Then none have I offended. I have done no
more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The
question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol, his
glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy, nor
his offenses enforced for which he suffered death.
Enter Mark Antony and others with Caesar’s body.
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 dagger for myself
when it shall please my country to need my death.
...and clamors.
My countrymen—
...speaks. Peace, ho!
Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
And, for my sake, stay here with Antony.
Do grace to Caesar’s corpse, and grace his speech
Tending to Caesar’s glories, which Mark Antony
(By our permission) is allowed to make.
I do entreat you, not a man depart,
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.
He descends and exits.
ACT 4
Scene 2
...Millions of mischiefs.
Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucilius, Lucius, and the Army. Titinius and Pindarus meet them.
Stand ho!
...ho, and stand!
What now, Lucilius, is Cassius near?
...from his master.
He greets me well.—Your master, Pindarus,
In his own change or by ill officers,
Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
Things done undone, but if he be at hand
I shall be satisfied.
...regard and honor.
He is not doubted.Brutus and Lucilius walk aside.
A word, Lucilius,
How he received you. Let me be resolved.
...used of old.
Thou hast described
A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius,
When love begins to sicken and decay
It useth an enforcèd ceremony.
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith;
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle,
Low march within.
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crests and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the trial. Comes his army on?
...and his powers.
Hark, he is arrived.
March gently on to meet him.
... Stand ho!
Stand ho! Speak the word along.
...done me wrong.
Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies?
And if not so, how should I wrong a brother?
...you do them—
Cassius, be content.
Speak your griefs softly. I do know you well.
Before the eyes of both our armies here
(Which should perceive nothing but love from us),
Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away.
Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs,
And I will give you audience.
...from this ground.
Lucius, do you the like, and let no man
Come to our tent till we have done our conference.
Let Lucilius and Titinius guard our door.
Scene 3
...was slighted off.
You wronged yourself to write in such a case.
...bear his 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.
...else your last.
The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
... Chastisement?
Remember March; the ides of March remember.
Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake?
What villain touched his body that did stab
And not for justice? What, shall one of us
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be graspèd thus?
I had rather be a dog and bay the moon
Than such a Roman.
...To make conditions.
Go to! You are not, Cassius.
... I am.
I say you are not.
...me no farther.
Away, slight man!
...Is ’t possible?
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
...endure all this?
All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break.
Go show your slaves how choleric you are
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen
Though it do split you. For, from this day forth,
I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.
...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 of noble men.
...I say “better”?
If you did, I care not.
...moved me.
Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him.
...I durst not?
No.
...not tempt him?
For your life you durst not.
...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 counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
Dash him to pieces!
...denied you not.
You did.
...than they are.
I do not, till you practice them on me.
...love me not.
I do not like your faults.
...see such faults.
A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
...thou lovedst Cassius.
Sheathe your dagger.
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope.
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
O Cassius, you are yokèd with a lamb
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Who, much enforcèd, shows a hasty spark
And straight is cold again.
...ill-tempered vexeth him?
When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
...me your hand.
And my heart too.
They clasp hands.
... O Brutus!
What’s the matter?
...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.
...this cynic rhyme!
Get you hence, sirrah! Saucy fellow, hence!
...’Tis his fashion.
I’ll know his humor when he knows his time.
What should the wars do with these jigging fools?—
Companion, hence!
...away, be gone!
Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders
Prepare to lodge their companies tonight.
...Immediately to us.
Lucius, a bowl of wine.
...been so angry.
O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
...to accidental evils.
No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.
... Ha? Portia?
She is dead.
...Upon what sickness?
Impatient of my absence,
And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves so strong—for with her death
That tidings came—with this she fell distract
And, her attendants absent, swallowed fire.
...And died so?
Even so.
...wine and tapers.
Speak no more of her.—Give me a bowl of wine.—
In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.
He drinks.
...Titinius and Messala.
Come in, Titinius. Welcome, good Messala.
Now sit we close about this taper here,
And call in question our necessities.
They sit.
...art thou gone?
No more, I pray you.—
Messala, I have here receivèd letters
That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward Philippi.
...the selfsame tenor.
With what addition?
...an hundred senators.
Therein our letters do not well agree.
Mine speak of seventy senators that died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.
...wife, my lord?
No, Messala.
...writ of her?
Nothing, Messala.
...methinks is strange.
Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours?
...No, my lord.
Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
...by strange manner.
Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala.
With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.
...bear it so.
Well, to our work alive. What do you think
Of marching to Philippi presently?
...think it good.
Your reason?
...defense, and nimbleness.
Good reasons must of force give place to better.
The people ’twixt Philippi and this ground
Do stand but in a forced affection,
For they have grudged us contribution.
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on 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.
...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.
...them at Philippi.
The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity,
Which we will niggard with a little rest.
There is no more to say.
...more. Good night.
They stand.
...rise and hence.
Lucius.
Enter Lucius.
My gown. Farewell, good Messala.—
Good night, Titinius.—Noble, noble Cassius,
Good night and good repose.
...with the gown.
Everything is well.
...night, my lord.
Good night, good brother.
...night, Lord Brutus.
Farewell, everyone.
Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
...in the tent.
What, thou speak’st drowsily?
Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o’erwatched.
Call Claudius and some other of my men;
I’ll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
...Calls my lord?
I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep.
It may be I shall raise you by and by
On business to my brother Cassius.
...your pleasure.
I will not have it so. Lie down, good sirs.
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
They lie down.
Look, Lucius, here’s the book I sought for so.
I put it in the pocket of my gown.
...give it me.
Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
...’t please you.
It does, my boy.
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
...my duty, sir.
I should not urge thy duty past thy might.
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.
...my lord, already.
It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again.
I will not hold thee long. If I do live,
I will be good to thee.
This is a sleepy tune. O murd’rous slumber,
Layest thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
That plays thee music?—Gentle knave, good night.
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break’st thy instrument.
I’ll take it from thee and, good boy, good night. He moves the instrument.
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.
Enter the Ghost of Caesar.
Ha, who comes here?—
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me.—Art thou any thing?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
That mak’st my blood cold and my hair to stare?
Speak to me what thou art.
...evil spirit, Brutus.
Why com’st thou?
...me at Philippi.
Well, then I shall see thee again?
...Ay, at Philippi.
Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest.
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.—
Boy, Lucius!—Varro, Claudius, sirs, awake!
Claudius!
...lord, are false.
He thinks he still is at his instrument.
Lucius, awake!
... My lord?
Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?
...I did cry.
Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything?
...Nothing, my lord.
Sleep again, Lucius.—Sirrah Claudius!
To Varro.
Fellow thou, awake!
...lord? My lord?
Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
...we, my lord?
Ay. Saw you anything?
...I, my lord.
Go and commend me to my brother Cassius.
Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
And we will follow.
...done, my lord.
They exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...will do so.March.
Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their army including Lucilius, Titinius, and Messala.
They stand and would have parley.
...until the signal.
The Generals step forward.
Words before blows; is it so, countrymen?
...as you do.
Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.
...Not stingless too.
O yes, and soundless too,
For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony,
And very wisely threat before you sting.
...sword of traitors.
Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors’ hands
Unless thou bring’st them with thee.
...on Brutus’ sword.
O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
Young man, thou couldst not die more honorable.
...on the hazard.
Ho, Lucilius, hark, a word with you.
...forth. My lord?
Brutus and Lucilius step aside together.
...perils very constantly.
Even so, Lucilius.
Brutus returns to Cassius.
...determinèd to do?
Even by the rule of that philosophy
By which I did blame Cato for the death
Which he did give himself (I know not how,
But I do find it cowardly and vile,
For fear of what might fall, so to prevent
The time of life), arming myself with patience
To stay the providence of some high powers
That govern us below.
...streets of Rome?
No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman,
That ever Brutus will go bound to 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.
...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.—Come ho, away!
They exit.
Scene 2
Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.
Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills
Unto the legions on the other side! He hands Messala papers.
Loud alarum.
Let them set on at once, for I perceive
But cold demeanor in Octavius’ wing,
And sudden push gives them the overthrow.
Ride, ride, Messala! Let them all come down.
They exit.
Scene 3
...on Cassius’ sword.
Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, young Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius, Labeo, and Flavius.
Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
...Titinius mourning it.
Titinius’ face is upward.
...He is slain.
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet;
Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.
...crowned dead Cassius.
Are yet two Romans living such as these?—
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well.
It is impossible that ever Rome
Should breed thy fellow.—Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man than you shall see me pay.—
I shall find time, Cassius; I shall find time.—
Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body.
His funerals shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us.—Lucilius, come.—
And come, young Cato. Let us to the field.—
Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on.
’Tis three o’clock, and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight.
They exit.
Scene 4
Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucilius, and Flavius.
Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!
Brutus, Messala, and Flavius exit.
Scene 5
...everything is chanced.
Enter Brutus, Dardanus, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.
Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
He sits down.
...ta’en or slain.
Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
He whispers to Clitus.
...all the world.
Peace, then, no words.
...rather kill myself.
Hark thee, Dardanus.
He whispers to Dardanus.
...at his eyes.
Come hither, good Volumnius. List a word.
...says my lord?
Why this, Volumnius:
The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me
Two several times by night—at Sardis once
And this last night here in Philippi fields.
I know my hour is come.
...so, my lord.
Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes.
Our enemies have beat us to the pit.
Low alarums.
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know’st that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
Hold thou my sword hilts whilst I run on it.
...no tarrying here.
Farewell to you—and you—and you, Volumnius.—
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep.
Farewell to thee, too, Strato.—Countrymen,
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 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.
Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labored to attain this hour.
...my lord, fly!
Hence. I will follow.
I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord.
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
Thy life hath had some smatch of honor in it.
Hold, then, my sword, and turn away thy face
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
...well, my lord.
Farewell, good Strato. Brutus runs on his sword.
Caesar, now be still.
I killed not thee with half so good a will.
He dies.
...this happy day.
They all exit.