Julius Caesar E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Strelbytskyy Multimedia Publishing
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 105

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Julius Caesar is a tragedy by William Shakespeare that shows the conspiracy against Julius Caesar and his murder. Although the main character is Julius Caesar, he does not play a big role in the play; after appearing a couple of times he dies in the beginning of the third scene. The central figure belongs to the main conspirator. Brutus, who struggles with the feelings of honor, patriotism and friendship. Last Caesar's words "Et tu, Brute" ("And you, Brutus?") Is one of the most famous line in the tragedy.

Leseprobe

William Shakespeare

The Tragedie of Julius Caesar

Julius Caesar is a tragedy by William Shakespeare that shows the conspiracy against Julius Caesar and his murder.

Although the main character is Julius Caesar, he doesn’t play a big role in the play; after appearing a couple of times he dies in the beginning of the third scene. The central figure (and the longest role) belongs to the main conspirator Brutus who struggles with the feelings of honour, patriotism and friendship. Last Caesar’s words «Et tu, Brute» (“And you, Brutus?”) is one of the most famous line in the tragedy.

Dramatis Personae

Julius Caesar

Octavius Caesar, Marcus Antonius, M. Aemilius Lepidus, triumvirs after the death of Julius Caesar

Cicero, Publius, Popilius Lena, senators

Marcus Brutus, Caius Cassius, Casca, Trebonius, Ligarius, Decius Brutus, Metellus Cimber, Cinna, conspirators against Julius Caesar

Flavius and Marullus, tribunes

Artemidorus, a sophist of Cnidos

A Soothsayer

Cinna, a poet

Another Poet

Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, Young Cato, Volumnius, friends to Brutus and Cassius

Varro, Clitus, Claudius, Strato, Lucius, Dardanius, servants to Brutus

Pindarus, servant to Cassius

Calpurnia, wife to Caesar

Portia, wife to Brutus

Commoners, or Plebeians, of Rome; Senators, Guards, Attendants, etc.

Scene: Rome, Asia Minor, the plains near Philippi, in Macedonia

Act I

Scene I

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain commoners over the stage.

Flavius

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

Is this a holiday? What, know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk

Upon a labouring day without the sign

Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

Carpenter

Why, sir, a carpenter.

Marullus

Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule?

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?

You, sir, what trade are you?

Cobbler

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I

am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

Marullus

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

Cobbler

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

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

Flavius

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Cobbler

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

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

Marullus

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

Cobbler

Why, sir, cobble you.

Flavius

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

Cobbler

Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I

meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters;

but withal I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes:

when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper

men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon

my handiwork.

Flavius

But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

Cobbler

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.

Marullus

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 climbed up to walls and battlements,

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

Your infants in your arms, and there have sat

The livelong day, with patient expectation,

To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:

And when you saw his chariot but appear,

Have you not made an universal shout,

That Tiber trembled underneath her banks

To hear the replication of your sounds

Made in her concave shores?

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?

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.

Flavius

Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault

Assemble all the poor men of your sort;

Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears

Into the channel, till the lowest stream

Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

Exeunt all the Commoners

See where their basest mettle 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 decked with ceremonies.

Marullus

May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

Flavius

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 plucked from Caesar's wing

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men,

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

Exeunt

Scene II

Enter Caesar; Antony, stripped for the course; Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius Casca, a Soothsayer, and a great crowd; after them Marullus and Flavius.

Caesar

Calphurnia.

Casca

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

Caesar

Calphurnia.

Calphurnia

Here, my lord.

Caesar

Stand you directly in Antonius' way

When he doth run his course. Antonius.

Antony

Caesar, my lord?

Caesar

Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calphurnia; for our elders say,

The barren, touched in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

Antony

I shall remember:

When Caesar says, ‘Do this,’ it is performed.

Caesar

Set on, and leave no ceremony out.

Soothsayer

Caesar!

Caesar

Ha! Who calls?

Casca

Bid every noise be still; peace yet again!

Caesar

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry ‘Caesar!’ Speak. Caesar is turned to hear.

Soothsayer

Beware the ides of March.

Caesar

What man is that?

Brutus

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Caesar

Set him before me; let me see his face.

Cassius

Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

Caesar

What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.

Soothsayer

Beware the ides of March.

Caesar

He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass.

Sennet. Exeunt.

Brutus and Cassius remain.

Cassius

Will you go see the order of the course?

Brutus

Not I.

Cassius

I pray you, do.

Brutus

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.

Cassius

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.

Brutus

Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours;

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved —

Among which number, Cassius, be you one —

Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Cassius

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?

Brutus

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

Cassius

'Tis just;

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard,

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus,

And groaning underneath this age's yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Brutus

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Cassius

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.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard,

And after scandal them; or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish and shout.

Brutus

What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

Cassius

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

Brutus

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

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

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

And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honour more than I fear death.

Cassius

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, ‘Dar'st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?’ Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Caesar cried, ‘Help me, Cassius, or I sink!’

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature, 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.

Shout. Flourish.

Brutus

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honours that are heaped on Caesar.

Cassius

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; conjure with 'em,

‘Brutus’ will start a spirit as soon as ‘Caesar.’

Now in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,

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

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

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

That her wide walls encompassed but one man?