All language subtitles for (pahe.in) Julius Cesar (1970)

Caesar was chosen consul
for the fourth time.

and went into Spain to make war
with the sons of Pompey

who were very young.

The greatest battle fought
between them in this civil war

was here, at Munda

and they put Caesar himself
in great danger of his life.

He slew 30 thousands
of them in the fields

and lost of his own men
one thousand of the best he had.

This was the last war
that Caesar made

and on his return to Rome,

the people nammed him

Perpetual Dictator.

Hail, Caesar!

Hail, Caesar!

Hail, Caesar!
Caesar!

Hail, Caesar! Caesar!

Caesar! Caesar!...

Caesar! Caesar!

Hence! home, you idle creatures
get you home:

Is this a holiday?

You, Sir...

what trade art thou?

A trade, sir, that, I hope,
I may use with a safe conscience;

which is, indeed, sir,
a mender of bad soles.

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon
to old shoes.

When they are in great danger, I
recover them.

But wherefore art
not in thy shop today?

Why dost thou lead these men
about the streets?

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

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

and to rejoice in his triumph.

Wherefore rejoice?

What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries
follow him to Rome,

to grace in captive bonds
his chariot-wheels?

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 walls
and battlements,

to towers and windows, yea,
to chimney-tops,

to see great Pompey
pass the streets of Rome:

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?

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.

Ave, Ceasar!

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.

Set on; and leave
no ceremony out.

Caesar!

Ha! who calls?

Bid 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.

Beware the ides of March.

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 is a dreamer;

let us leave him: pass.

Will you go see
the order of the course?

- Not I.
- I pray you, do.

I am not gamesome:

I do lack some part of that
quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius,
your desires; 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.

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

No, Cassius; for the eye sees
not itself, but by reflection.

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?

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.

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:

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.

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.

Another general shout!

I 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 time are masters
of their fates.

the fault, dear Brutus,

is not in our stars, but in
ourselves, that we are underlings

Brutus and Caesar:

what should be in that 'Caesar'?

Why should that name
be sounded more than yours?

Write them together,

yours is as fair a name.

Sound them, it doth become
the mouth as well.

Weigh them, it is as heavy.

Vonjure with 'em, Brutus will
start a spirit as soon as Caesar.

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

upon what meat doth
this our Caesar feed,

that he is grown so great?

Age, thou art shamed!

When went there by an age,

since the great flood,
when could they say till now,

that talk'd of Rome,

that her wide walls
encompass'd but one man?

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.

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much
show of fire from Brutus.

But, look you, Cassius, the angry
spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,

and all the rest look like
a chidden train:

Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and
Cicero looks with such ferret

and such fiery eyes as we have
seen him in the Capitol,

being cross'd in conference
by some senators

- Antonius!
- Caesar?

Let me have men about me
that are fat;

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.

Casca will tell us
what the matter is.

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.

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

and therefore is he 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.

Casca!

- Would you speak with me?
- Ay, Casca.

tell us what hath chanced
today, that Caesar looks so sad.

Why, there was
a crown offered him.

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

thus.

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 3rd time.

he put it the 3rd time by.
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 because Caesar
refused the crown

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

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.

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 he fell down,

when he perceived the common herd
was glad he refused the crown,

he offered them
his throat to cut.

And so he fell.

3 or 4 wenches,
where I stood, cried

'Alas, good soul!'...

and forgave him
with all their hearts.

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?
- 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 mind hold and your
dinner worth the eating.

Good: I will expect you.

Do so. Farewell,

both.

Till then,

think of the world.

And after this

let Caesar seat him sure.

For we will shake him,

or worse days endure.

Who's there?

A Roman.

Cassius.

what night is this!

Who ever knew
the heavens menace so?

Those that have known
the earth so full of faults.

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

A man no mightier
than thyself or me

in personal action,

yet prodigious grown

and fearful, as these strange
eruptions are.

'Tis Caesar that you mean.
Is it not, Cassius?

Let it be who it is.

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

And he shall wear his crown by
sea and land, in every place,

save here in Italy.

I know where I will wear
this dagger then.

Cassius from bondage will
deliver Cassius.

If I know this,
know all the world besides,

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

So can I!

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

And why should Caesar
be a tyrant then?

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.

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.

Stand close awhile,
for here comes one in haste.

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

Cinna!...

- Where haste you so?
- To find out you.

Who's that?
Metellus Cimber?

No, it is Casca;
one incorporate to our attempts.

I am glad on 't.

What a fearful night is this!

There's two or three of us
have seen strange sights.

- 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,

take this paper,

and look you lay it in the
praetor's chair, where
Brutus may but find it

and throw this in at his window.

set this up with wax
upon old Brutus' statue

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

- I will hie. And so bestow
these papers as you bade me.
- Do so.

Come, Casca,

you and I will yet ere day
See Brutus at his house.

three parts of him
is ours already,

and the man entire upon the next
encounter yields him ours.

It must be by his death!

And for my part, I know no
personal cause to spurn at him.

He would be crown'd.

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.

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 to-morrow, boy,
the ides of March?

I know not, sir.

'Brutus, thou sleep'st.

Awake, and see thyself.

Shall Rome stand under
one man's awe?"

What?

Rome?

'Speak,

strike,

redress!'

O Rome, I make thee promise.

Thou shall receive thy full
petition at the hand of Brutus!

They are the faction.

O conspiracy!

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

which 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.

Shall I entreat a word?

Here lies the east.

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 point my sword,

the sun arises.

Give me your hands all over,
one by one.

- And let us swear our resolution.
- No, not an oath.

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?

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

Decius, well urged

I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony,

so well beloved of Caesar,

should outlive Caesar.

We shall find of him
a shrewd contrive.

Let Antony and Caesar
fall together.

Our course will seem too bloody,
Caius Cassius, to cut the head off

and then hack the limbs, like
wrath in death and envy afterwards.

For Antony is but
a limb of Caesar.

Let 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

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 for Mark Antony,
think not of him

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

Yet I fear him.

For in the 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.

But it is doubtful yet,
whether Caesar will come
forth to-day, or no.

For he is superstitious
grown of late.

It may be, these apparent
prodigies, the unaccustom'd
terror of this night,

and the persuasion of
his augurers,

may hold him from
the Capitol to-day.

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.

The morning comes
upon 's, Brutus.

And, friends,

disperse yourselves.

But all remember
what you have said,

and show yourselves
true Romans.

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.

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 to-night
have had to resort to you.

for here have been some 6 or 7,
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 your wife 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 I
should 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.

O ye gods, render me worthy
of this noble wife!

By and by thy bosom shall
partake the secrets of my heart.

Caesar

Caesar, beware of Brutus...

take heed of Cassius;
come not near Casca...

have an eye to Cinna,
trust not Trebonius...

mark well Metellus Cimber:
Decius Brutus

loves thee not. There's but
1 mind in all these men, and
it's bent against Caesar.

Beware the ides of March.

March... March... March.

March... March... March

Nor heaven nor earth
have been at peace to-night.

Thrice hath Calpurnia in
her sleep cried out.

'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!'

- Who's within?
- My lord?

Go bid the priests do
present sacrifice

- and bring me their
opinions of success.
- I will, my lord.

What mean you, Caesar?

Think you to walk forth?

You shall not stir
out of your house to-day.

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 fought
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.

Oh, 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.

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 to-day.

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 bea beast without
a heart, if he should stay
at home to-day 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 to-day!

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 to-day.

Let me, upon my knee,
prevail in this.

Mark Antony shall say
I am not well,

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

Here's Decius Brutus,
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 that I will
not come to-day.

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

I will not come to-day:
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 graybeards 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 to-night
she saw my statua,

which, like a fountain with
100 spouts, did run pure blood.

Many lusty Romans came smiling,
and did bathe their hands in it.

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

and on her knee hath begg'd
that I will stay at home to-day.

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 wordyou will
not come, their minds may change.

Besides, it were a mock apt to be
render'd, for some one 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'?

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.

What, Brutus, are you stirr'd
so early too?

Good morrow, Casca.

Now, Cinna,

now, Metellus,

what, Trebonius!

See! Antony,

that revels long o' nights,

is notwithstanding up.

- Good morrow, Antony.
- Good morrow, noble Caesar.

Good friends,

go in, and taste some wine with me.

And we, like friends,
will straightway go together.

'Caesar, beware of Brutus.
Take heed of Cassius.

come not near Casca.
Have an eye to Cinna.

Trust not Trebonius.
Mark well Metellus Cimber.

Decius Brutus loves thee not.

The ides of March are come.

Ay, Caesar,

but not gone.

Hail, Caesar!

Hail, 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's 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?

What, urge you your petitions in
the street? Come to the Capitol.

I wish your enterprise
to-day may thrive.

What enterprise, Popilius?

Fare you well.

What said Popilius Lena?

He wish'd to-day 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?

What is now amiss that Caesar
and his senate must redress?

Most high, most mighty,
and most puissant Caesar!

Metellus Cimber throws
before thy seat 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 sweetly 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 and
every one doth shine,

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

So in the world; 'tis 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,--
- Hence! wilt thou
lift up Olympus?

Great Caesar,--

Doth not Brutus
bootless kneel?

Speak, hands for me!

Et tu, Brute!

Then fall, Caesar.

Liberty! Freedom!
Tyranny is dead!

Run hence, proclaim,
cry it about the streets.

Some to the common pulpits,
and cry out:

'Liberty, freedom,
and enfranchisement!'

People and senators,
be not affrighted!

Fly not! Stand still!

ambition's debt is paid!

- Go to the pulpit, Brutus!
- And Cassius too!

Stand fast together. Lest
some friend of 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.

And leave us, Publius. 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.

Stoop, Romans, stoop,

and let us bathe our hands
in Caesar's blood.

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!'

Stoop, then, and wash.

How many ages hence shall this
our lofty scene be acted over

in states unborn
and accents yet unknown!

How many times shall Caesar
bleed in sport,

that now on Pompey's basis lies
along no worthier than the dust!

So oft as that shall be,

so often shall the knot of us be
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?

Welcome, Mark 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.

For your part,

to you our swords have leaden
points, Mark Antony.

Your voice shall be as strong
as any man's

in the disposing of new dignities.

Only be patient till we have
appeased the multitude,
beside themselves with fear,

and then we will deliver you the
cause, why I, that did love Caesar

when I struck him, have thus proceeded.

I doubt not of your wisdom.

Let each man render me

his bloody hand.

First, Marcus Brutus,
will I shake with you.

Next, Caius Cassius,
do I take your hand.

Caesar,

If 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?

Mark Antony,--

Pardon me, Caius Cassius.

Will you be prick'd in
number of our friends?

Or shall we on,
and not depend on you?

Friends am I with you all,
and love you all.

Upon this hope,

that you shall give me reasons
why and wherein Caesar
was dangerous.

Or else were this
a savage spectacle.

Our reasons are so full of
good regard that were you,
Antony, the son of Caesar,

you should be satisfied.

That's all I seek.

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

and in the pulpit, as becomes
a friend, speak in the order
of his funeral.

You shall, Mark Antony.

Brutus, a word with you.

You know not what you do.

Do not consent that Antony
speak in his funeral.

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

By your pardon.

I will myself into the pulpit first,

and show the 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.

I know not what may fall.

I like it not.

Mark Antony,

here, take you Caesar's body.

You shall not in your funeral
speech blame us,

But speak all good,
you can devise of Caesar,

and say you do'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.

Be it so.
I do desire no more.

Prepare the body then,
and follow us.

O, pardon me,
thou bleeding piece of earth,

that I am meek and
gentle with these

butchers!

Thou art the ruins
of the noblest man

that ever lived in
the tide of times.

Woe to the hand that shed
this costly blood!

Over thy wounds
now do I prophesy,--

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.

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.

- You serve Octavius Caesar,
do you not?
- I do, Mark Antony.

Caesar did write for him
to come to Rome.

He did receive his letters,
and is coming.

And bid me say to you
by word of mouth--

O Caesar!--

Passion, I see, is catching.

Is thy master coming?

He lies tonight within 7
leagues of Rome.

Here is a mourning Rome,
a dangerous Rome.

No Rome of safety
for Octavius yet.

Hie hence, and tell him so.

Yet, stay awhile.

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

I try there how the people
take the cruel issue
of these bloody men.

We will be satisfied!
let 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 rendered

of Caesar's death.

The noble Brutus is ascended.

Silence!

Be patient till the last.

Romans,

countrymen,

and lovers!

Hear me for my cause,
and be silent.

Believe me for mine honour,

and have respect to mine
honour, that you may believe.

Censure me

in your wisdom,

and awake your senses, that
you may the better judge.

If there be any
in this assembly,

any dear friend of Caesar's,

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

If then that friend demand

why Brutus rose against
Caesar, this is my answer:

Not that I loved Caesar less,

but that I loved Rome more.

Had you rather Caesar were
living and die all slaves,

than that Caesar were dead,
to live all free men?

As Caesar loved me,

I weep for him.

As he was fortunate,
I rejoice at it.

As he was valiant,
I honour him.

but, as he was ambitious,

I slew him.

There is tears

for his love,

joy for his fortune,

honour for his valour

and death

for his ambition.

Who is here so base

that would be a 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.

None.

Then none

have I offended

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.

Live, Brutus!

Live, Brutus!

- Give him a statue
with his ancestors.
- Let him be Caesar.

Caesar's better parts
shall be crown'd in Brutus.

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

- My countrymen,--
- Peace, silence!

- Brutus speaks.
- Peace!

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! and let us
hear Mark Antony.

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

For Brutus' sake,
I am beholding to you.

What does he say of Brutus?

He says, for Brutus' sake,

he finds himself
beholding to us all.

'Twere best he speak no harm
of Brutus here.

This Caesar was a tyrant.

That's certain. We are blest
that Rome is rid of him.

- You gentle Romans,--
- Peace, ho! let us hear him.

Friends,

Romans,

countrymen,

lend me your ears.

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

The evil that men do
lives after them.

The good is oft
interred with their bones.

So let it be with Caesar.

The noble Brutus

hath told you
Caesar was ambitious.

If it were so,
it was a grievous fault,

and grievously hath
Caesar answer'd it.

Here,

under leave of Brutus

and the rest--

For Brutus is
an honourable man.

So are they all,

all honourable men--

Come I to speak
in Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend,

faithful and just to me.

But Brutus says
he was ambitious.

And Brutus is
an honourable man.

He hath brought
many captives home to Rome

whose ransoms did
the general coffers fill:

Did this in Caesar
seem ambitious?

When that the poor 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?

Judgment!
hou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason.

Bear with me.

My heart is 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.

Mark'd ye his words?

He would not take the crown.

Therefore 'tis certain
he was not ambitious.

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

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.

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.

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

Silence!

Have patience, gentle friends,
I must not read it.

It is not meet you know
how Caesar loved you.

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

and, being men, bearing the will
of Caesar, it will inflame you,
it will make you mad.

'Tis good you know not
that you are his heirs.

For, if you should,
O, what would come of it!

Read the will!

Will you be patient?
will you stay awhile?

I have o'ershot myself
to tell you of it.

I fear I wrong
the honourable men

whose daggers have stabb'd
Caesar I do fear it!

- They were traitors!
- The will! the testament!

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

The will!
Read the will!

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

Shall I descend?
And will you give me leave?

Stand far off.

You all do know this mantle.

I remember the first time ever
Caesar put it on.

'Twas on a summer's evening,
in his tent,

that day he overcame the Nervii.

Look, in this place ran
Cassius' dagger through.

See what a rent
the envious Casca made!

Through this
the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd.

And as he pluck'd his cursed
steel away, mark how the blood
of Caesar follow'd it.

For Brutus, as you know,
was Caesar's angel.

Judge, O you gods,
how dearly Caesar loved him!

This was the most unkindest
cut of all

for when the noble Caesar
saw him stab,

ingratitude, more strong than
traitors' arms,
quite vanquish'd him.

Then burst his mighty heart. And,
in his mantle muffling up his face,

even at the base
of Pompey's statua,

which all the while ran blood,
great Caesar fell.

O, what a fall was there,
my countrymen!

Then I, and you, and all of us
fell down, whilst bloody
treason flourish'd over us.

Kind souls, what, weep you
when you but behold our
Caesar's vesture wounded?

Look you here!

Here is himself, marr'd,
as you see, with traitors.

- O piteous spectacle!
- O noble Caesar!

Stay, countrymen.

Good friends, sweet friends.

Let me not stir you up to such
a sudden flood of mutiny.

They that have done this deed
are honourable.

What private griefs they have,
alas, I know not,
that made them do it.

They are wise and honourable,
and will, no doubt, with
reasons answer you.

I come not, friends,
to steal away your hearts.

I am no orator, as Brutus is,

but, as you know me all,
a plain blunt man,

that love my friend.

And that they know full well
that gave me public leave
to speak of him.

For I have neither wit,
nor words,

nor worth, action, nor
utterance, nor the power of
speech, to stir men's blood.

I only speak right on.

I tell you that which you
yourselves do know.

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds,
poor poor dumb mouths,

and bid them speak for me.

but were I Brutus,
and Brutus Antony,

there were an Antony would
ruffle up your spirits

and put a tongue
in every wound of Caesar

that should move the stones
of Rome to rise

and mutiny!

Yet hear me, countrymen!
Yet hear me speak!

Why, friends, you go to do
you know not what.

Wherein hath Caesar
thus deserved your loves?

Alas, you know not!

I must tell you then.

You have forgot the will
I told you of.

Here is the will,

and under Caesar's seal.

To every Roman citizen he gives,
to every several man,

75 drachmas.

Moreover,

he hath left you all his walks,

his private arbours and new-planted
orchards, on this side Tiber.

He hath left them you,
and to your heirs for ever,
common pleasures,

to walk abroad,
and recreate yourselves.

Here was a Caesar!
When comes such another?

Come, away!

We'll burn his body
in the holy place!

Now let it work.

Mischief, thou art afoot,

Take thou what course thou wilt!

- How now, fellow!
- Sir, Octavius is already
come to Rome.

- Where is he now?
- He and Lepidus are
at Caesar's house.

He comes upon a wish.

Fortune is merry,

and in this mood will
give us any thing.

I heard him say, Brutus and
Cassius are rid like madmen
through the gates of Rome.

Belike they had some notice
of the people,

How I had moved them.

Let's go to Brutus to Cassius!

Burn all!

Away!
Go.

These many, then, shall die?

Their names are prick'd.

Your brother too must die.

Consent you, Lepidus?

I do consent--

Prick him down, Antony.

Upon condition Publius
shall not live,

Who is your sister's son,
Mark Antony.

He shall not live.

Look,

with a spot I damn him.

Brutus and Cassius are
levying powers.

We must straight make head.

Therefore let our alliance be
combined, our best friends made,
our means stretch'd

and let us presently
go sit in council.

Let us do so.

For we are at the stake, and
bay'd about with many enemies.

And some that smile have
in their hearts, I fear,
millions of mischiefs.

Lepidus, go you fetch Caesar's will

hither, we shall determine how
to cut off some charge in legacies.

What, shall I find you here?

Or here, or at the Capitol.

This is a slight unmeritable man,

meet to be sent on errands.

Is it fit, the 3-fold world divided,

he should stand 1 of the 3 to share it?

He's a tried and valiant soldier.

So is my horse, Octavius.

Most noble brother,
you have done me wrong.

Judge me, you gods!
Wrong I mine enemies?

And, if not so,
how should wrong a brother?

Before the eyes of both our
armies here, which should
perceive nothing but love from
us, let us not wrangle.

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

Cassius, be content.
Speak your griefs softly.

I do know you well.

Let no man come to our tent
till we've done our conference.

Let Lucius and Titinius
guard our door.

That you have wrong'd me doth
appear in this:

you have condemn'd and noted
Lucius Pella for taking bribes
here of the Sardians.

Wherein my letters, praying on
his side, because I knew the
man, were slighted off.

You wronged yourself to write
in such a case.

In such a time as this it is
not meet that every nice
offence should bear his comment.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you
yourself are much condemn'd
to have an itching palm.

To sell and mart your offices
for gold
to undeservers.

I an itching palm!

You know that you are Brutus
that speak this,

or, by the gods, this speech
were else your last.

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

Chastisement!

Remember March,

the ides of March remember!

Did not great Julius bleed
for justice' sake?

What, shall one of us that
struck the foremost man of
all this world

but for supporting robbers,
shall we now contaminate our
fingers with base bribes?

And sell the mighty space of
our large honours for so much
trash as may be grasped thus?

I had rather be a dog, and bay
the moon, than such a Roman.

Brutus, bay not me. I'll not
endure it! You forget yourself,
to hedge me in.

I am a soldier, I,

older in practise, abler than
yourself to make conditions.

- Go to; you are not, Cassius.
- I am.

- I say you are not.
- Urge me no more,
I shall forget myself.

Have mind upon your health,
tempt me no further.

- 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?

O ye gods, ye gods!
Must I 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 humour?

By the gods you shall digest
the venom of your spleen,
though it do split you.

or, from this day forth, I'll
use you for my mirth, yea,
for my laughter, when you are waspish.

Is it come to this?

You say you are a better soldier.

Let it appear so. Make your
vaunting true, and it shall
please me well!

For mine own part, I shall be
glad to learn of noble men.

You wrong me every way.
You wrong me, Brutus.

I said, an elder soldier,
not a better.

Did I say 'better'?

If you did, I care not.

When Caesar lived, he durst
not thus have moved me.

Peace, peace! You durst not
so have tempted him.

- I durst not!
- No!

- What, durst not tempt him!
- For your life you durst not!

Do not presume too much
upon my love.

I may do that I shall be
sorry for.

You have done that
you should be sorry for.

I did send to you for gold to
pay my legions,
which you denied me.

Was that done like Cassius?

Should I have answer'd
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!
- I denied you not.

- You did.
- I did not!

He was but a fool that
brought my answer back.

Brutus hath rived my heart.

A friend should bear his
friend's infirmities,

but Brutus makes mine
greater than they are.

I do not,
till you practise them on me.

- You love me not.
- I do not like your faults.

A friendly eye
could never see such faults.

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

Come, Antony,
and young Octavius, come!

Revenge yourselves alone on
Cassius, for Cassius is aweary
of the world.

Hated by one he loves,

braved by his brother,

cheque'd like a bondman,

all his faults observed,

set in a note-book, learn'd,
and conn'd by rote,t
o cast into my teeth!

O, I could

weep my spirit from mine eyes!

There is my dagger,

and here my naked breast.

Within, a heart dearer than
Plutus' mine, richer than gold!

If that thou be'st a Roman,
take it forth!

I, that denied thee gold,
will give my heart!

Strike, as thou didst at Caesar,

for, I know, when thou didst
hate him worst,

thou lovedst him better than
ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Sheathe your dagger.

Be angry when you will,
it shall have scope.

O Cassius,

you are yoked with a lamb that
carries anger as the flint
bears fire.

who, much enforced,
shows a hasty spark

and straight is cold again.

Hath Cassius lived to be but

mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

when grief, and blood
ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

When I spoke that,
I was ill-temper'd too.

Do you confess so much?

- Give me your hand.
- And my heart too.

Lucilius and Titinius,

bid the commanders prepare to
lodge their companies to-night.

And come yourselves, and bring
Messala with you immediately to us.

Lucius, a bowl of wine!

I did not think you could
have been so angry.

O Cassius, I am sick
of many griefs.

Portia is dead.

Portia!

She is dead.

How 'scaped I killing
when I cross'd you so?

O insupportable and touching loss!

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,

swallow'd fire.

And died so?

Even so.

O ye immortal gods!

Speak no more of her.

Give me a bowl of wine.

In this

I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

My heart is thirsty
for that noble pledge.

Come in, Titinius!
Welcome, good Messala.

Now sit we close about
this taper here,

and call in question
our necessities.

Portia, art thou gone?

No more, I pray you.

Messala,

I have here received letters,
that young Octavius

and Mark Antony
Come down upon us

with a mighty power,
bending their expedition toward Philippi.

Myself have letters of
the selfsame tenor.

What do you think of marching
to Philippi presently?

- I do not think it good.
- Your reason?

'Tis better that
the enemy seek us.

So shall he waste his means,
weary his soldiers,
doing himself offence.

Whilst we, lying still,

are full of rest, 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.

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

You must note beside, that we've
tried the utmost of our friends.

Our legions are brim-full,
our cause is ripe.

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

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

Omitted,

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

On such a full sea
are we now afloat.

and we must take the current
when it serves,

or lose our ventures.

Then, with your will, go on.

We'll along ourselves,
and meet them at Philippi.

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

Which we will niggard
with a little rest.

- There is no more to say?
- No more. Good night.

Early tomorrow will we rise,
and hence.

Lucius! My gown.
Farewell, good Messala.

Good night, Titinius.

Noble,

noble Cassius,

good night, and good repose.

O my dear brother!

This was an ill beginning
of the night.

Never come such division
'tween our souls!

Let it not, Brutus.

Every thing is well.

Good night, my lord.

Good night, good brother.

Good night, Lord Brutus.

Farewell, every one.

How ill this taper burns!

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 makest my blood cold

and my hair to stare?

Speak to me what thou art.

Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

Why comest thou?

To tell thee thou
shalt see me at Philippi.

Well.
then I shall see thee again?

Ay, at Philippi.

Now, Antony,

our hopes are answered:

you said the enemy
would not come down,

It proves not so. Their battles
are at hand. But keep the hills
and upper regions.

They mean to warn us
at Philippi here,

Answering before
we do demand of them.

I am in their bosoms, and
I know wherefore they do it.

They could come down
With fearful bravery,

thinking by this face to
fastenin our thoughts that
they have courage.

But 'tis not so.

Prepare you, generals!

The enemy comes
on in gallant show.

Their bloody sign of
battle is hung out,

and something to be
done immediately.

Octavius,

lead your battle softly on,

upon the left hand
of the even field.

Upon the right hand I.

Keep thou the left.

Why do you cross me
in this exigent?

I do not cross you,
but I will do so.

They stand,
and would have parley.

Stand fast, Titinius.

We must out and talk.

- Make forth; the generals
would have some words.
- Stir not until the signal.

Words before blows!
Is it so, countrymen?

Not that we love words better,
as you do.

Good words are better
than bad strokes, Octavius.

In your bad strokes, Brutus,
you give good words.

When your vile daggers
hack'd one another in
the sides of Caesar.

You show'd your teeth like apes,
and fawn'd like hounds,

and bow'd like bondmen,
kissing Caesar's feet.

You flatterers!

Flatterers!

Now, Brutus, thank yourself.

This tongue had not
offended so to-day,

if Cassius might have ruled.

Come, come, the cause.

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

Look!

I draw a sword
against conspirators!

When think you that
the sword goes up again?

Never, till Caesar's 3 and
30 wounds be well avenged.

or till Octavius Caesar
have added slaughter

to the sword of traitors.

Caesar, thou canst not die
by traitors' hands.

So I hope.

I was not born to die
on Brutus' sword.

O, if thou wert the noblest
of thy strain, young man,

thou couldst not die
more honourable.

A peevish schoolboy,

worthless of such honour,

join'd with a masker
and a reveller!

Old Cassius still!

Defiance, traitors,
hurl we in your teeth!

If you dare fight to-day,
come to the field.

If not, when you have stomachs.

Come, Antony, away!

Why, now, blow wind,

swell billow and swim bark!

The storm is up,
and all is on the hazard.

Now, most noble Brutus,

the gods to-day stand friendly,

that we may, lovers in peace,
lead on our days to age!

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.

For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius!

If we do meet again, why,
we shall smile.

If not, why then,
this parting was well made.

For ever, and for ever,
farewell, Brutus!

If we do meet again,
we'll smile indeed.

If not, 'tis true

this parting was well made.

Why, then, lead on.

O, that a man might know
the end of this day's
business ere it come!

But it sufficeth that
the day will end,

and then the end is known.

Ride, ride, Messala, ride,

and give these bills unto
the legions on the other side.

Let them set on at once.

For I perceive but cold
demeanor in Octavius' wing,

and sudden push gives
them the overthrow.

Ride, Messala, ride!

Let them all come down.

Be thou my witness, Messala,

that against my will,

am I compell'd to set upon
one battle all our liberties.

Coming from Sardis,

on our former ensign
2 mighty eagles fell,

and there they perch'd,
gorging and feeding from
our soldiers' ands.

This morning are they
fled away and gone.

In their steads do ravens, crows
and kites, fly o'er our heads

and downward look on us,
as we were sickly prey.

Their shadows seem
a canopy most fatal,

under which our army lies,
ready to give up the ghost.

Believe not so.

I but believe it partly.

For I am fresh of spirit

and resolved to meet
all perils very constantly.

Go back!

O, look, Titinius,
look, the villains fly!

This ensign here of mine

was turning back
I slew the coward!

O Cassius, Brutus gave
the word too early.

Who, having some advantage on
Octavius, took it too eagerly.
His soldiers fell to spoil,

whilst we by Antony
are all enclosed.

Fly further off, my lord,

fly further off!

Mark Antony is in
your tents, my lord.

This hill is far enough.

Look, look, Titinius.

Are those my tents where
I perceive the fire?

Titinius, if thou lovest me,
mount thou my horse,

and hide thy spurs in him,
that I may rest assured whether
yond troops are friend or enemy.

Go, Pindarus, get higher
on that hill!

My sight was ever thick.

Regard Titinius.

And tell me what thou
notest about the field.

This day I breathed first.

This is my birthday.

Time is come round.

And where I did begin,

there shall I end.

My life is run his compass.

Sirrah, what news?

Titinius is enclosed round
about with horsemen,

that make to him on the spur.

Yet he spurs on.

Now they are almost on him.

And, hark! they shout for joy.

Come down, behold no more.

O, coward that I am,
to live so long,

to see my best friend
ta'en before my face!

Sirrah, come hither.

In Parthia did I take
thee prisoner

and then I swore thee,
saving of thy life,

that whatsoever I did bid thee
do, thou shouldst attempt it.
Come now, keep thine oath.

Now be a freeman

and with this good sword, that
ran through Caesar's bowels,

search this bosom.
Stand not to answer!

take thou the hilts; and,
when my face is cover'd

as 'tis now,

guide thou the sword.

Caesar,

thou art revenged,

even with the sword
that kill'd thee.

He is slain.

O Julius Caesar,
thou art mighty yet!

Thy spirit walks abroad
and turns our swords

in our own proper entrails.

The sun of Rome is set!

Our day is gone.

Why didst thou send me forth,
brave Cassius?

Did I not meet thy friends?

and did not they put on my
brows this wreath of victory,

and bid me give it thee?

Didst thou not hear
their shouts?

The last of all the Romans,
fare thee well!

Friends,

I owe more tears
to this dead man

than you shall see me pay.

I shall find time, Cassius,

I shall find time.

Et tu, Brute?

This is not Brutus, friend.

Keep this man safe.

Come, poor remains of friends,

rest on this rock.

Good Volumnius; list a word.

- What says my lord?
- Why, this, Volumnius:

The ghost of Caesar

hath appear'd to me
2 several times by night.

At Sardis once,

and, this last night, here

in Philippi fields.

I know my hour is come.

Not 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.

It is more worthy to leap
in ourselves, than tarry
till they push us.

Good Volumnius,

thou know'st that we 2 went
to school together.

Even for that our love of old,
I prithee,

hold thou my sword-hilts,

whilst I run on it.

That's not an office
for a friend, my lord.

Fly, my lord, fly.

There is no tarrying here.

Farewell to you,
and you, Volumnius.

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 labour'd
to attain this hour.

Fly, 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 honour in it.

Hold then my sword,

and turn away thy face,
while I do run upon it.

Wilt thou, Strato?

Give me your hand first.

- Fare you well, my lord.
- Farewell, good Strato.

Caesar, now be still.

I kill'd not thee with half
so good a will.

- What man is that?
- My master's man.

Where is thy master?

Free from the bondage
you are in, my lord.

The conquerors can
but make a fire of him.

For Brutus only overcame himself.

And no man else hath
honour by his death.

How died he, Strato?

I held the sword,
and he did run on it.

This was the noblest
Roman of them all.

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

He only, in a general honest
thought And common good
to all, made one of them.

His life was gentle,

and the elements

so mix'd in him that
Nature might stand up

and say to all the world:

'This was a man!'

Transcripted by Braniki
Modified by buihoang_ti