Julius Caesar

AFRICAN DANCE MUSIC PLAYS

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

Is this a holiday?

What trade art thou?

Why, sir, a carpenter.

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?

You, sir, what trade are you?

Truly, sir?

A mender of bad soles.

LAUGHTER

What trade, thou knave?

Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Nay, sir, I beseech you, be not out with me.

Yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

LAUGHTER

What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow!

Why, sir, cobble you.

-Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

-CHEERING

Truly, sir, all that I live by is with...

the awl.

But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

-Truly, sir?

-ALL: Truly, sir?

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

But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar

and rejoice in his triumphs.

ALL: Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!

THEY START TO SING

You blocks! You stones, you worse than senseless things!

O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome!

Knew you not Pompey?

Many a time and oft have you climb'd up to towers and windows, to walls and battlements,

yea, to chimney-tops,

your infants in your arms, and there have sat the livelong day,

in 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?

-HE TUTS

-Be gone!

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,

pray to the gods to intermit the plague that needs must light on this ingratitude!

See whether their basest metal be not moved.

They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.

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

Disrobe the images, if you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

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

It is no matter. Let no images be hung with Caesar's trophies.

I'll about and drive away the vulgar from the streets.

So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

These growing feathers pluck'd 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.

AFRICAN DANCE MUSIC PLAYS

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing, oh

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing, oh

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing, oh

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing, oh

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing... #

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks!

-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 perform'd.

-APPLAUSE

-Press on, and leave no ceremony out.

-# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing... # MAN:

-Caesar...

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar... #

Let every noise be still!

Peace yet again.

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, cry, "Caesar!"

Speak. Caesar is turn'd to hear.

Beware...

the Ides of March.

MURMURING

What man is that?

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Set him before me. Let me see his face.

Fellow, come from the throng. Look upon Caesar.

What say'st thou to me now?

Speak once again.

Beware the Ides of March.

He's a dreamer.

LAUGHTER

Let us leave him. Pass!

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing

# Oh, Caesar, sing, sing Caesar, Caesar, sing... #

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. I'll leave you.

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 veil'd my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance merely upon myself.

Vexed I am of late with passions of some difference,

conceptions only proper to myself, which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours.

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved - among which number, Cassius, be you one.

Nor construe any further my neglect, than that poor Brutus,

with himself at war, forgets the shows of love to other men.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion.

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

worthy cogitations.

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

-No, Cassius - for the eye sees not itself...

-Sees not itself...

-..but by reflection, by some other things.

-..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 may 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 wish'd 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.

CLAMOUR IN STREET

What means this shouting? I do fear, the people choose Caesar for their king.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

I would not, Cassius.

Yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me?

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

and death in the other, and I will look on both indifferently,

for let the gods so speed me as I love the name of honour more than I fear death.

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

Well, honour is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you 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?"

Upon the word, accoutred as I was, I plunged in and bade him follow. So indeed he did.

The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it with lusty sinews,

throwing it aside and stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

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

And this man is now become a god,

and Cassius is a wretched creature and must bend his body, if Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain, and when the fit was on him, I did mark how he did shake.

'Tis true, this god did shake.

His coward lips did from their colour fly,

and that same eye whose bend doth awe the world did lose his lustre.

I did hear him groan. Ay, 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, Titinius," as a sick girl.

Ye gods, it doth amaze me. A man of such a feeble temper should so get the start of the majestic world.

And bear the palm alone.

CLAMOUR IN STREET

Another general shout.

I do believe that these applauses are for some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a colossus,

and we petty men walk under his huge legs and peep about

to find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some times are masters of their fates.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, 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, it is as fair a name.

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well.

Weigh them, it is as heavy!

Conjure with them, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.

Now, in the 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 till now, that talk'd of Rome, that her wide walls encompass'd 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.

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 that 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.

CLAMOUR IN STREET

The games are done and Caesar is returning.

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, and he will, after his 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.

-Casca will tell us what the matter is.

-Antonius.

-Caesar?

-Let me have men about me that are fat.

-LAUGHTER

Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights.

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

Fear him not, Caesar. He's not dangerous.

-He is a noble Roman and well given.

-Would he were fatter!

But I fear him not. Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid

so soon as that spare Cassius.

He reads much. He is a great observer

and he looks quite through the deeds of men.

He loves no plays, as thou dost, Antony. He hears no music.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort as if he mock'd himself

and scorn'd his spirit that could be moved to smile at any thing.

Such men as he be never at heart's ease whiles they behold a greater than themselves,

and therefore are they very dangerous.

-I rather tell thee what is to

-be

-fear'd than what

-I

-fear

for always I am Caesar.

Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,

and tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

You pull'd me by the sleeve - 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 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!

-Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

-I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it.

It was mere foolery. I did not mark it.

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

'twas one of these coronets -

and, as I told you, he put it by once, but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it.

Then he offered it to him again,

then he put it by again,

but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it.

And then he offered it the third time

he put it the third time by.

And still, as he refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands

and threw up their sweaty night-caps

and uttered such a deal of stinking breath that it almost choked Caesar,

for he swounded and fell down at it, and for mine own part, I durst not laugh,

for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

But, soft, I pray you - what, did Caesar swound?

He fell down in the market-place, and 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.

If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them,

as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man.

Erm...what said he when he came unto himself?

Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown,

he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut.

An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word,

I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell.

When he came to himself again, he said,

if he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired their worships to think it was 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 any thing?

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 pulling scarfs off 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 word hold,

and your dinner worth the eating.

-Good. I will expect you.

-Do so.

Farewell...both.

What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!

-He was quick mettle when he went to school.

-So is he now,

in execution of any bold or noble enterprise,

-however he puts on this tardy form.

-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 metal may be wrought from that it is disposed,

therefore it is meet that noble minds keep ever with their like.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

Caesar doth bear me hard, yet he loves Brutus.

If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, he should not humour me.

I will this night, in several hands, in at his windows throw, as if they came from several citizens,

writings all tending to the great opinion that Rome holds of his name,

wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at.

After this let Caesar seat him sure...

for we will shake him, or worse days endure.

THUNDERCLAP

HE GASPS

HE CRIES OUT

Good even, Casca. Brought you Caesar home?

Why are you breathless and why stare you so?

Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth shakes like a thing unfirm?

O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds have rived the knotty oaks,

and I have seen the ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, to be exalted with the threatening clouds,

but never till tonight, never till now, did I go through a tempest dropping fire!

Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

A common slave - you know him well by sight - held up his left hand,

which did flame and burn like 20 torches join'd,

and yet his hand, not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.

Against the Capitol I met a lion, who glared upon me,

and went surly by, without annoying me. When these prodigies do so conjointly meet,

let not men say, "These are their reasons - they are natural."

For, I believe, they are portentous things unto the climate that they point upon.

Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time.

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

Hm!

-Come Caesar to the Capitol tomorrow?

-He doth,

for he did bid Antonius send word to you he would be there tomorrow.

Good night then, Casca. This disturbed sky is not to walk in.

Farewell, Cicero.

-Who's there?!

-A Roman!

-Casca, by your voice.

Your ear is good. Cassius, 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 walk'd about the streets, submitting me unto the perilous night,

and, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone,

and when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open the breast of heaven,

I did present myself even in the aim and very flash of it.

But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?

It is the part of men to fear and tremble, when the most mighty gods

-by tokens send such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

-You are dull, Casca,

and those sparks of life that should be in a Roman you do want, or else you use not.

You look pale and gaze and put on fear and cast yourself in wonder,

to see the strange impatience of the heavens.

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

that thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars as doth the lion in the Capitol,

a man no mightier than thyself or me in personal action,

yet prodigious grown and fearful, as these strange eruptions are!

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

Let it be who it is, for Romans now have thews and limbs like to their ancestors.

-But, woe the while! Our fathers' minds are dead, and we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits.

-Indeed,

they say tomorrow the senators mean to establish Caesar as a king.

I know where I will wear this dagger then.

Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius. Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong.

Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat!

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 bondman in his own hand bears the power to cancel his captivity.

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.

Those that with haste will make a mighty fire begin it with weak straws.

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 grief, where hast thou led me?

I perhaps speak this before a willing bondman,

then I know...my answer must be made.

But I am arm'd, and dangers are to me indifferent.

You speak to Casca, and to such a man that is no fleering tell-tale.

Hold my hand - be factious for redress of all 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 I do know, by this, they stay for me in Pompey's porch.

-Stand close, 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 is that?

-Metellus Cimber?

-No, 'tis Casca, one incorporate to our attempts.

-Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

-I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this!

-Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

-Yes, you are.

O Cassius, if you could but win the noble Brutus to our party...

Be you content, good Cinna, throw this paper,

in at Brutus' window and this, set up upon old Brutus' statue.

All this done, repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.

Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

All but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone to seek you at your house.

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

Three parts of him is ours already,

the man entire upon the next encounter yields him ours.

O, he sits high in all the people's hearts, and that which would appear

offence in us, his countenance will change to worthiness.

Him and his worth and our great need of him.

You have right well conceited.

Let us go, for it is after midnight and ere day, we will awake him and be sure of him.

What, Lucius, ho!

I cannot, by the progress of the stars, give guess how near to day.

Lucius, I say!

Would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.

When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say!

What, Lucius?

Call'd you, my lord?

BRUTUS LAUGHS

Get me a taper in my study, Lucius. When it is lighted,

-come and call me here.

-I 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 crown'd.

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

'Tis the bright day that brings forth the adder,

and that craves wary walking.

Crown him? That, and then, I grant,

we put a sting in him,

that at his will he may do danger with.

The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins remorse from power...

..and to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known

when his affections sway'd 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 colour for the thing he is...

..fashion it thus, that what he is, augmented, would run to these

and these extremities.

And therefore think him as a serpent's egg which, hatch'd, would,

as his kind, grow mischievous...

..and kill him in the shell.

The taper burneth in your closet, sir.

Searching the window for a flint, I found this paper, thus seal'd 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, boy, the Ides of March?

-I know not, sir.

-Look in the calendar, and bring me word.

I will, sir.

Hm... The exhalations whizzing in the air

give so much light that I may read by them.

"Brutus, thou sleep'st.

"Awake, and see thyself.

"Shall Rome, etc.

"Speak...strike...redress!

"Brutus, thou sleep'st.

"Awake!"

Such instigations have been often dropp'd 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 14 days.

KNOCKING '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.

Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,

-who doth desire to see you.

-Is he alone?

-No, sir, there are more with him.

-Do you know them?

No, sir, their hats are pluck'd about their ears,

and half their faces buried in their cloaks,

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

Let 'em enter.

They are the faction.

O conspiracy, shamest 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 these men that come along with you?

Yes, every man of them, and no man here but honours you,

and every one doth wish you had

but that opinion of yourself that every noble Roman bears of you.

-This is Trebonius.

-He is welcome hither.

-This, Decius Brutus.

-He is welcome too.

-This, Casca. This, Cinna. And this, Metellus Cimber.

-They are all welcome.

-What watchful cares do interpose themselves betwixt your eyes and night?

-Shall I entreat a word?

-Doth not the day break here?

-No.

O, pardon, sir, it doth,

and yon gray lines that fret the clouds are messengers of day.

You shall confess that you are both deceived.

Here, as I draw my sword, the sun arises,

which is a great deal growing on the south,

weighing the youthful season of the year.

Some two months hence, up higher toward the north,

he first presents his fire

and the high east stands, as the Capitol, directly here.

Give me your hands...all over,

one by one.

And 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, till each man drop by lottery.

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

and to steel with valour the melting spirits of women, then, countrymen,

what need we any spur but our own cause, to prick us to redress?

What other bond than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,

and will not 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 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 the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,

to think that or our cause or our performance did need an oath.

But 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. Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,

but all be buried in his gravity.

O, name him not. Let us not break with him,

for he will never follow any thing that other men begin.

-Then leave him out.

-Indeed he is not fit.

Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar?

I think it is not meet that Mark Antony,

so well beloved of Caesar, should outlive Caesar.

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

his means, if he improve them, may well stretch so far

as to annoy us all, which to prevent, let Antony and Caesar fall together.

Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,

to cut the head off and then hack the limbs,

for Antony is but a limb of Caesar.

Let us 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.

Go, 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 us carve him as a dish fit for the gods...

..not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.

This shall make our purpose necessary and not envious, which so appearing

to the common eyes, we shall be call'd purgers

and not murderers.

And for Mark Antony, think not of him,

for he can do no more than Caesar's arm when Caesar's head is off.

And yet I fear him, for in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar...

Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him.

If he love Caesar, all that he can do is to himself -

take thought and die for Caesar, and that were much he should,

for he is given to sports, to wildness and much company.

There is no fear in him. Let him not die, for he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

CLOCK CHIMES Peace! Count the clock.

CLOCK CONTINUES TO CHIME

-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.

It may be these apparent prodigies, 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,

for he loves to hear that unicorns may be betray'd with trees,

and bears with glasses, elephants with holes, lions with toils

and men with flatterers. But when I tell him he hates flatterers,

he says he does, being then most flattered.

Let me work, for I can give his humour the true bent,

and I will bring him to the 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.

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 reason. Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

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

And, friends, disperse yourselves,

but all remember what you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.

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.

Nor for yours neither.

You've ungently, Brutus, stole from my bed, and yesternight, at supper,

you suddenly arose, and walk'd about, musing and sighing, with your arms across,

and when I asked you what the matter was, you stared upon me with ungentle looks.

I urged you further, then you scratch'd your head,

and too impatiently stamp'd with your foot. Yet I insisted,

yet you answer'd not, but with an angry wafture of your hand,

gave sign for me to leave you, so I did,

fearing to strengthen that impatience

which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal hoping it was

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

It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,

and could it work so much upon your shape as it hath much

prevail'd on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus.

Dear my lord, make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

I am not well in health, 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 is it physical to walk unbraced

and suck up the humours of the dank morning?

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

to dare the vile contagion of the night and tempt

the rheumy and unpurged air to add unto his sickness?

No, my Brutus.

You have some sick offence within your mind,

which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of.

And, upon my knees, I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,

by all your vows of love and that great vow which did incorporate

and make us one, that you unfold to me, yourself, your half,

why you are heavy...

..and what men tonight have had to resort to you.

For here have been some six or seven, 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.

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.

I grant I am a woman, but withal a woman that Lord Brutus took to wife.

I grant I am a woman, but withal a woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.

Think you I am no stronger than my sex, being so father'd and so husbanded?

Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em.

I have made strong proof of my constancy, giving myself

this voluntary wound here, in the thigh.

-Think you I can bear that with patience...

-BRUTUS GASPS

..and not my husband's secrets?

O, ye gods!

Render me worthy of this noble wife!

KNOCKING 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 brow.

Leave me with haste.

Lucius, who's that knocks?

He is a sick man that would speak with you.

Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside.

Caius Ligarius! How...?

Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, to wear a kerchief!

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.

-BRUTUS LAUGHS

(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.

Set on your foot, and with a heart new-fired I follow you, to do...

-..I know not what.

-LIGARIUS LAUGHS

But it sufficeth that Brutus leads me on.

Follow me, then.

Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight.

Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, "Help, ho! They murder Caesar!"

-CREAKING

-Who is within?

My lord?

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 threaten'd me ne'er look'd 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 yawn'd, and yielded up their dead.

Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, in ranks and squadrons

and right form of war, which drizzled blood upon the Capitol.

The noise of battle hurtled in the air.

Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan,

and ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.

O Caesar! These things are beyond all use, and I do fear them.

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

Yet Caesar shall go forth,

for these predictions are to the world in general as to Caesar.

When beggars die, there are no comets seen.

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Cowards die many times before their deaths.

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

it seems to me most strange that men should fear,

seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.

-What say the augurers?

-They would not have you 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 shall not. Danger knows full well that Caesar

is more dangerous than he.

We are two lions litter'd 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 knees, prevail in this.

Mark Antony shall say I am not well...

..and for thy humour, I will stay at home.

Here's Decius Brutus. He shall tell them so.

Caesar, all hail!

Good morrow, worthy Caesar. I come to fetch you to the senate-house.

And you are come in very happy time, to bear my greeting to the senators

and tell them I will not come today.

"Cannot" is false, and "I dare not" falser.

I WILL not come today. Tell them so, Decius.

-Say he is sick.

-Shall Caesar send a lie?

Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,

to be afraid to tell greybeards the truth?

Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.

Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,

lest I be laugh'd 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 statua,

which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, did run pure blood,

and many lusty Romans did come smiling,

and did bathe their hands in it.

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

and on her knee hath begg'd that I should 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,

and that great men shall press for tinctures,

stains, relics and cognizance.

This by Calpurnia's dream is signified.

And this way have you well 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 come, their minds may change.

Besides, it were a mock apt to be render'd,

for someone to say, "Break up the senate till another time,

"when Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams."

If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper, "Lo, Caesar is afraid"?

Pardon me, Caesar for my dear dear love to our proceeding bids me

tell you this. And reason to my love is liable.

How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia!

I am ashamed I did yield to them.

Give me my robe, for I will go.

And look where Publius is come to fetch me.

Good morrow, Caesar.

Welcome, Publius. What, Brutus, are you stirr'd 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 is 't o'clock?

Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.

I thank you for your pains and courtesy.

See! Antony, that revels long o' nights, Is notwithstanding up.

Good morrow, Antony.

So to most noble Caesar.

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

Now, Cinna, now, Metellus, what, Trebonius!

I have an hour's talk in store for you.

Remember that you call on me today Be near me, 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 shall go straight away together.

That every like is not the same, O Caesar.

The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!

I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house.

Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. Why dost thou stay?

To know my errand, madam.

I would have had thee there, and here again,

Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.

O constancy, be strong upon my side,

Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!

I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.

How hard it is for women to keep counsel! Art thou here yet?

Madam, what should I do?

Run to the capital and nothing else?

-And so return to you and nothing else?

-Yes!

Yes, bring me word if thy lord look well,

For he went sickly forth and take good note

What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.

Hark, boy!

What noise was that?

I hear none, Madam.

Prithee, listen well.

I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray.

And the wind brings it from the capital.

Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.

Come here's our fellow.

Is Caesar yet gone to the capital?

Madam, not yet.

Thou hast a suit to Caesar, hast thou not?

That I have, lady.

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

I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

Why? know'st thou any harm's intended towards him?

None that I know will be.

Much that I fear may chance.

I must go in.

Ay, me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is!

O Brutus, the heavens speed thee in thine enterprise!

Sure, the boy heard me.

Brutus hath a suit that Caesar will not grant.

O, I grow faint.

Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord.

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

Say I am merry!

Caesar, beware of Brutus.

Take heed of Cassius.

Come not near Cassius.

Have an eye to Cinna.

Trust not Trebonius.

Mark well Metellus Cimber.

Brutus loves thee not.

Thou hast wronged Caius Agerius.

There is but one mind in all these men.

And it is bent against Caesar.

If thou be'st not immortal

look about you.

Security gives way to conspiracy.

The mighty gods defend thee thy lover.

Artemidorius, if thou read'st this,

O Caesar, thou mays't live.

If not the fates with traitors

do contrive.

The ides of March are come.

Ay, Caesar but not gone.

Hail, Caesar! Caesar, read this schedule.

Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread, at your best leisure,

this his humble suit.

O Caesar, read mine first for mine is a suit that

touches Caesar nearer.

Read it, great Caesar.

What touches us ourself

shall be last served.

Delay not, Caesar, read it instantly.

-What, is the fellow mad?

-Sirrah, give place.

What, urge you your petitions in the street?

Come to the capital.

I wish your enterprise today may thrive.

What enterprise, Popilius?

Fare you well.

What said Popilius Lena?

He wish'd 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.

Trebonius knows his time for, look you, Brutus.

He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

Where is Metellus Cimber?

Let him go, and presently prefer his suit to Caesar.

He is address'd. Press near and second him.

Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

Are we all ready?

O Caesar!

What is now amiss?

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 pre-ordinance and first decree

into the law of children.

Be not fond, to think that Caesar bears such rebel blood

that will be thaw'd from the true quality

with that which melteth fools.

I mean, sweet words,

low-crooked court'sies 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.

Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause

will he be satisfied.

Is there no voice more worthy than my own

To sound more weetly in great Caesar's ear

for the repealing of my banish'd 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-fix'd

and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,

They are all fire

nd every one doth shine.

But there's but one in all

doth hold his place.

So in the world.

It is furnish'd 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 banish'd

and constant do remain to keep him so.

O Caesar...

Great Caesar.

-Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

-Speak, hands for me!

SHOUTING AND GROANING

SHOUTING AND GROANING

Et tu, Brute!

Then fall, Caesar.

HE SHOUTS

HE SPLUTTERS

HE SHOUTS

SHOUTING AND GROANING

Liberty! Freedom!

Tyranny is dead!

Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

Some to the common pulpits, and cry out,

"Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!"

People and senators, be not affrighted.

Fly not. Stand stiff, ambition's debt is paid.

-Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

-And Cassius, too.

Where's Lepidus?

Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

-Stand fast together, lest some friend...

-Talk not of standing.

Lepidus, good cheer, there is no harm intended to your person.

Nor to no Roman else

so tell them, Lepidus.

And leave us, Lepidus,

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.

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 market-place,

and, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,

Let's all cry,

"Peace, freedom and liberty!"

HE LAUGHS

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 lies here no worthier than the dust.

So oft as that shall be,

So often shall the knot of us be call'd.

The men that gave their country liberty.

What, shall we forth?

Ay, every man away.

Brutus shall lead and we will grace his heels

With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.

Soft! Who comes here?

A friend of Antony's.

Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel.

Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down.

And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say...

..if Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony

may safely come to him,

and be resolved how Caesar hath deserved to lie in death,

Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead so well

as Brutus living...

..but will follow the fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus

thorough the hazards of this untrod state

with all true faith.

So says 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 honour, Depart untouch'd.

I'll fetch him presently.

I know that we shall have him well to friend.

I wish we may but yet have I a mind that fears him much

and my misgivings still falls shrewdly to the purpose.

But here comes 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 hour,

nor no instrument Of half that worth

as those your swords, made rich

with the most noble blood

of all this world.

I do beseech ye, 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 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.

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,

then we will deliver you the cause, why

I, that did love Caesar

when I struck him,

have thus procee'ded.

I doubt not of your wisdom.

Let each man 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 last in love, yours, good Trebonius.

Gentlemen all. Alas, what shall I say?

My credit now stands on such slippery ground,

that one of two bad ways you must conceit me.

Either a coward or a flatterer.

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 Anthony making his peace,

shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,

most noble in the presence of thy corse?

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.

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 prick'd in number of our friends,

or shall we on, and not depend on you?

Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed,

sway'd 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...

LAUGHTER

..and in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,

-speak in the order of his funeral.

-You shall, Mark Antony.

Brutus, a word with you.

Do not consent that Antony speak at his funeral. You know not what you do.

Know you how much the people may be moved by that which he may utter!

By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first,

to give the reason of our Caesar's death.

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 the 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.

I 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 quarter'd 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, Mark Antony.

Is thy master coming?

He lies within seven leagues of Rome...

O, Caesar!

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.

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.

SHOUTING

SHOUTING CONTINUES

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 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.

Would you rather Caesar were living and to die all slaves,

or 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 rude 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.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony,

who, though he had no part in Caesar's 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 that same dagger for myself,

when it shall please my country to meet my death.

Live, Brutus! Live, live!

-Give him a statue!

-Let him be Caesar!

-My countrymen.

Brutus speaks.

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 allow'd to make.

I do entreat you, not a man depart,

save I alone, till Antony have spoke.

Stay, ho! Let us hear Mark Antony.

We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up.

What does he say of Brutus?

'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here.

This Caesar was a tyrant.

We are blest that Rome is rid of 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.

-Yes.

-If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

and grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.

Here under leave of Brutus and the rest.

For Brutus is an honourable man.

CROWD MURMUR IN AGREEMENT

So are they all, all honourable men -

come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend...

..faithful and just to me.

But Brutus says he was ambitious.

And Brutus is an honourable man.

CROWD AGREES

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.

CROWD CLAMOURS

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 thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar has had great wrong.

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

Poor soul! His eyes are red as fire with weeping.

There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

Now, mark him. > He begins again to speak.

ALL: Sh!

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 stir your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,

I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,

who, you all know, are honourable men:

CROWD MURMURS.

I will not do them wrong!

I rather choose to wrong the dead,

to wrong myself and you,

than I will wrong such honourable men.

But here's a parchment...

..with the seal of Caesar.

I found it in his closet, 'tis his will.

Let but the commons hear this testament -

which, pardon me, I do not mean to read -

and they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds

And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,

yea, beg a hair of him for memory.

And, dying, mention it within their wills,

bequeathing it as a rich legacy unto their issue.

CROWD CLAMOUR AND SHOUT

The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will.

Have patience, gentle friends.

I must not read it.

SHOUTING

It is not meet. You know how Caesar loved you.

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

And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar,

-It will inflame you.

-NO!

-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!

ALL CLAMOUR: Read the will!

-Will you be patient?

-ALL: Yes!

-Will you stay awhile?

-YES!

I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. I wrong the honourable men whose daggers stabbed Caesar.

I do fear it.

CLAMOUR CONTINUES

-You will compel me, then, to read the will?

-YES!

Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,

-And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend?

-YES!

-And will you give me leave?

-YES!