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William Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar' is a timeless tragedy set in ancient Rome, depicting the events leading up to and following the assassination of the title character. The play explores themes of power, betrayal, and the consequences of political ambition. Written in Shakespeare's signature blank verse, the dialogue is both poetic and profound, capturing the complexities of the human experience. This work is considered one of Shakespeare's greatest achievements, showcasing his mastery of language and storytelling. 'Julius Caesar' remains a staple in literature courses and continues to be performed on stages around the world. The play's exploration of power dynamics and moral dilemmas make it a compelling and thought-provoking read for audiences of all backgrounds. As one of Shakespeare's most acclaimed works, 'Julius Caesar' offers readers a glimpse into the minds of historical figures and raises questions about leadership, ethics, and loyalty.
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JULIUS CAESAR OCTAVIUS CAESAR, Triumvir after his death. MARCUS ANTONIUS, ” ” “ M. AEMIL. LEPIDUS ” ” “ CICERO, PUBLIUS, POPILIUS LENA, Senators. MARCUS BRUTUS, Conspirator against Caesar. CASSIUS, ” ” “ CASCA, ” ” “ TREBONIUS, ” ” “ LIGARIUS, ” ” “ DECIUS BRUTUS, ” ” “ METELLUS CIMBER, ” ” “ CINNA, ” ” “ FLAVIUS, tribune MARULLUS, tribune ARTEMIDORUS, a Sophist of Cnidos. A Soothsayer CINNA, a poet. Another Poet. LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, young CATO, and VOLUMNIUS, Friends to Brutus and Cassius. VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, LUCIUS, DARDANIUS, Servants to Brutus PINDARUS, Servant to Cassius The Ghost of Caesar Senators, Citizens, Soldiers, Commoners, Messengers, and Servants CALPURNIA, wife to Caesar PORTIA, wife to Brutus SCENE: Rome, the conspirators’ camp near Sardis, and the plains of Philippi.
[Enter Flavius, Marullus, and a Throng of Citizens.]
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 laboring day without the sign Of your profession?—Speak, what trade art thou? FIRST CITIZEN. 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? SECOND CITIZEN. 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. SECOND CITIZEN. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
MARULLUS. What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade? SECOND CITIZEN. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
MARULLUS. What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow! SECOND CITIZEN. Why, sir, cobble you. FLAVIUS. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? SECOND CITIZEN. Truly, Sir, all that I live by is with the awl; I meddle with no tradesman’s matters, nor women’s matters, but with awl. 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? SECOND CITIZEN. 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 climb’d 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 CITIZENS.]
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. 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 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. [Exeunt.]
[Enter, in procession, with music, Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calpurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer.]
CAESAR. Calpurnia,— CASCA. Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. [Music ceases.]
CAESAR. Calpurnia,— CALPURNIA. 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 Calpurnia; 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 perform’d. CAESAR. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Music.]
SOOTHSAYER. Caesar! CAESAR. Ha! Who calls? CASCA. Bid every noise be still.—Peace yet again! [Music ceases.]
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 turn’d 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 say’st 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 all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS.]
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 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 behaviors; But let not therefore my good friends be grieved— Among which number, Cassius, be you one— Nor construe any further my neglect, Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men. 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 thing. 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 wish’d 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 laugher, 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 honor in one eye and death i’ the other And I will look on both indifferently; For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honor more than I fear death. CASSIUS. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favor. Well, honor is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Caesar; so were you: We both have fed as well; and we can both Endure the winter’s cold as well as he: For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, “Darest thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so indeed he did. The torrent 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! 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 color fly; And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his luster. 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 honors that are heap’d 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 dishonorable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves,that we are underlings. “Brutus” and “Caesar”: what should be in that “Caesar”? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 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. O, you and I have heard our fathers say There was a Brutus once that would have brook’d Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome, As easily as a king! BRUTUS. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous; What you would work me to, I have some aim: How I have thought of this, and of these times, I shall recount hereafter; for this present, I would not, so with love I might entreat you, Be any further moved. What you have said, I will consider; what you have to say, I will with patience hear; and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. CASSIUS. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. BRUTUS. The games are done, and Caesar is returning. CASSIUS. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note today. [Re-enter Caesar and his Train.]
BRUTUS. I will do so.—But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train: Calpurnia’s cheek is pale; and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being cross’d in conference by some senators. CASSIUS. Casca will tell us what the matter is. CAESAR. Antonius,— ANTONY. Caesar? 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. ANTONY. Fear him not, Caesar; he’s not dangerous; He is a noble Roman and well given. CAESAR. 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. [Exeunt Caesar and his Train. Casca stays.]
CASCA. You pull’d me by the cloak; would you speak with me? BRUTUS. Ay, Casca, tell us what hath chanced today, That Caesar looks so sad. CASCA. Why, you were with him, were you not? BRUTUS. I should not then ask Casca what had chanced. CASCA. Why, there was a crown offer’d him; and being offer’d him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.
BRUTUS. What was the second noise for? CASCA. Why, for that too. CASSIUS. They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? CASCA. Why, for that too. BRUTUS. Was the crown offer’d him thrice? CASCA. Ay, marry, was’t, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting-by mine honest neighbors shouted.
CASSIUS. Who offer’d him the crown? CASCA. Why, Antony. BRUTUS. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. CASCA. I can as well be hang’d, 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 shouted, and clapp’d their chopt 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 swooned 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.
CASSIUS. But, soft! I pray you. What, did Caesar swoon? CASCA. He fell down in the marketplace, and foam’d at mouth, and was speechless.
BRUTUS. ‘Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness. CASSIUS. No, Caesar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness. CASCA. 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.
BRUTUS. What said he when he came unto himself? CASCA. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he pluck’d 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 stabb’d their mothers, they would have done no less.
BRUTUS. And, after that he came, thus sad away? CASCA. Ay. CASSIUS. Did Cicero say any thing? CASCA. Ay, he spoke Greek. CASSIUS. To what effect? CASCA. Nay, an I tell you that, I’ll ne’er look you i’ 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 could remember it.
CASSIUS. Will you sup with me tonight, Casca? CASCA. No, I am promised forth. CASSIUS. Will you dine with me tomorrow? CASCA. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating.
CASSIUS. Good; I will expect you. CASCA. Do so; farewell both. [Exit CASCA.]
BRUTUS. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school. CASSIUS. So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. BRUTUS. And so it is. For this time I will leave you: Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you. CASSIUS. I will do so: till then, think of the world.— [Exit Brutus.]
Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, Thy honorable metal may be wrought, From that it is disposed: therefore ‘tis meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduced? Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus; If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, He should not humor 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: And after this let Caesar seat him sure; For we will shake him, or worse days endure. [Exit.]
[Thunder and lightning. Enter, from opposite sides, CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO.]
CICERO. Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home? Why are you breathless, and why stare you so? CASCA. 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 Th’ 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. Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction. CICERO. Why, saw you anything more wonderful? CASCA. A common slave—you’d know him well by sight— Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches join’d, and yet his hand Not sensible of fire remain’d unscorch’d. Besides,—I ha’ not since put up my sword,— Against the Capitol I met a lion, Who glared upon me, and went surly by, Without annoying me: and there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noonday upon the marketplace, Howling and shrieking. 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. CICERO. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time. But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. Comes Caesar to the Capitol tomorrow? CASCA. He doth, for he did bid Antonius Send word to you he would be there tomorrow. CICERO. Good then, Casca: this disturbed sky Is not to walk in. CASCA. Farewell, Cicero. [Exit Cicero.]
[Enter Cassius.]
CASSIUS. Who’s there? CASCA. A Roman. CASSIUS. Casca, by your voice. CASCA. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! CASSIUS. A very pleasing night to honest men. CASCA. Who ever knew the heavens menace so? CASSIUS. 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. CASCA. 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. CASSIUS. 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: But if you would consider the true cause Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, Why birds and beasts,from quality and kind; Why old men, fools, and children calculate;— Why all these things change from their ordinance, Their natures, and preformed faculties To monstrous quality;—why, you shall find That Heaven hath infused them with these spirits, To make them instruments of fear and warning Unto some monstrous state. 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. CASCA. ‘Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius? 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; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. CASCA. 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. CASSIUS. 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: Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself. If I know this, know all the world besides, That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure. [Thunders still.]
CASCA. So can I: So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity. CASSIUS. And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf, But that he sees the Romans are but sheep: He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. 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. CASCA. 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. CASSIUS. 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 honorable-dangerous consequence; And I do know by this, they stay for me In Pompey’s Porch: for now, this fearful night, There is no stir or walking in the streets; And the complexion of the element Is favor’d like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. CASCA. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. CASSIUS. ‘Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait; He is a friend.— [Enter Cinna.]
Cinna, where haste you so?
CINNA. To find out you. Who’s that? Metellus Cimber? CASSIUS. No, it is Casca, one incorporate To our attempts. Am I not stay’d for, Cinna? CINNA. I am glad on’t. What a fearful night is this! There’s two or three of us have seen strange sights. CASSIUS. Am I not stay’d for? tell me. CINNA. Yes, You are. O Cassius, if you could but win The noble Brutus to our party,— CASSIUS. 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. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? CINNA. All but Metellus Cimber, and he’s gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie And so bestow these papers as you bade me. CASSIUS. That done, repair to Pompey’s theatre.— [Exit Cinna.]
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. CASCA. O, he sits high in all the people’s hearts! And that which would appear offense in us, His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness. CASSIUS. 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. [Exeunt.]
[Enter Brutus.]
BRUTUS. What, Lucius, ho!— I cannot, by the progress of the stars, Give guess how near to day.—Lucius, I say!— I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.— When, Lucius, when! Awake, I say! What, Lucius! [Enter Lucius.]
LUCIUS. Call’d you, my lord? BRUTUS. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here. LUCIUS. I will, my lord. [Exit.]
BRUTUS. 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: It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him?—that: And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with. Th’ abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins Remorse from power; and, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections 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 color for the thing he is, Fashion it thus,—that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these extremities: And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg Which hatch’d, would, as his kind grow mischievous; And kill him in the shell. [Re-enter Lucius.]
LUCIUS. 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. BRUTUS. Get you to bed again; it is not day. Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March? LUCIUS. I know not, sir. BRUTUS. Look in the calendar, and bring me word. LUCIUS. I will, sir. [Exit.]
BRUTUS. The exhalations, whizzing in the air Give so much light that I may read by them.— [Opens the letter and reads.] “Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake and see thyself. Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress—! Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake!—” Such instigations have been often dropp’d Where I have took them up. “Shall Rome, & c.” 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 call’d a king.— “Speak, strike, redress!”—Am I entreated, then, 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! [Re-enter Lucius.]
LUCIUS. Sir, March is wasted fifteen days. [Knocking within.]
BRUTUS. ‘Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks.— [Exit Lucius.]
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. [Re-enter Lucius].
LUCIUS. Sir, ‘tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you. BRUTUS. Is he alone? LUCIUS. No, sir, there are more with him. BRUTUS. Do you know them? LUCIUS. 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 favor. BRUTUS. Let ‘em enter.— [Exit Lucius.] 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 pass, thy native semblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention. [Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus Cimber, and Trebonius. CASSIUS. I think we are too bold upon your rest: Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you? BRUTUS. I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you? CASSIUS. Yes, every man of them; and no man here But honors you; and every one doth wish You had but that opinion of yourself Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius. BRUTUS. He is welcome hither. CASSIUS. This Decius Brutus. BRUTUS. He is welcome too. CASSIUS. This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. BRUTUS. They are all welcome.— What watchful cares do interpose themselves Betwixt your eyes and night? CASSIUS. Shall I entreat a word? [BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper apart.]
DECIUS. Here lies the east: doth not the day break here? CASCA. No. CINNA. O, pardon, sir, it doth, and yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day. CASCA. You shall confess that you are both deceived. Here, as I point my sword, the Sun arises; Which is a great way 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. BRUTUS. Give me your hands all over, one by one. CASSIUS. And let us swear our resolution. BRUTUS. 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 men cautelous, Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt: but do not stain The even virtue of our enterprise, Nor th’ insuppressive mettle of our spirits, To think that or our cause or our performance Did need an oath; when every drop of blood That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath pass’d from him. CASSIUS. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us. CASCA. Let us not leave him out. CINNA. No, by no means. METELLUS. O, let us have him! for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion, And buy men’s voices to commend our deeds: It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands; Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity. BRUTUS. O, name him not! let us not break with him; For he will never follow any thing That other men begin. CASSIUS. Then leave him out. CASCA. Indeed, he is not fit. DECIUS. Shall no man else be touch’d but only Caesar? CASSIUS. Decius, well urged.—I think it is not meet, Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him A shrewd contriver; and you know his means, If he improve them, may well stretch so far As to annoy us all: which to prevent, Let Antony and Caesar fall together. BRUTUS. 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 let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage, And after seem to chide ‘em. This shall mark Our purpose necessary, and not envious; Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be call’d purgers, not murderers. And for Mark Antony, think not of him; For he can do no more than Caesar’s arm When Caesar’s head is off. CASSIUS. Yet I do fear him; For in th’ ingrafted love he bears to Caesar— BRUTUS. 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. TREBONIUS. There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes.]
BRUTUS. Peace! count the clock. CASSIUS. The clock hath stricken three. TREBONIUS. ‘Tis time to part. CASSIUS. But it is doubtful yet Whether Caesar will come forth today or no; For he is superstitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies. It may be these apparent prodigies, The unaccustom’d terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers May hold him from the Capitol to-day. DECIUS. 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 humor the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol. CASSIUS. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. BRUTUS. By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost? CINNA. Be that the uttermost; and fail not then. METELLUS. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey: I wonder none of you have thought of him. BRUTUS. 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. CASSIUS. The morning comes upon ‘s. We’ll leave you, Brutus;— And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. BRUTUS. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untired spirits and formal constancy: And so, good morrow to you every one.— [Exeunt all but Brutus.]
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. [Enter Portia.]
PORTIA. Brutus, my lord! BRUTUS. 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. PORTIA. 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 ask’d 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. BRUTUS. I am not well in health, and that is all. PORTIA. Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it. BRUTUS. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. PORTIA. 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 offense within your mind, Which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of: and, upon my knees, I charge 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 resort to you; for here have been Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness. BRUTUS. Kneel not, gentle Portia. 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. BRUTUS. You are my true and honorable wife; As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. PORTIA. 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 a voluntary wound Here in the thigh: can I bear that with patience And not my husband’s secrets? BRUTUS. O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife! [Knocking within.]
Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia, go in awhile; And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart: All my engagements I will construe to thee, All the charactery of my sad brows. Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia.]
—Lucius, who’s that knocks?
[Re-enter Lucius with Ligarius.]
LUCIUS. Here is a sick man that would speak with you. BRUTUS. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.— Boy, stand aside.—Caius Ligarius,—how? LIGARIUS. Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. BRUTUS. O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! LIGARIUS. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour. BRUTUS. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. LIGARIUS. By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honorable loins! Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible; Yea, get the better of them. What’s to do? BRUTUS. A piece of work that will make sick men whole. LIGARIUS. But are not some whole that we must make sick? BRUTUS. That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee, as we are going, To whom it must be done. LIGARIUS. Set on your foot; And with a heart new-fired I follow you, To do I know not what: but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on. BRUTUS. Follow me then. [Exeunt.]
[Thunder and lightning. Enter Caesar, in his nightgown.]
CAESAR. Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight: Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, “Help, ho! They murder Caesar!”—Who’s within? [Enter a Servant.]
SERVANT. My lord? CAESAR. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, And bring me their opinions of success. SERVANT. I will, my lord. [Exit.]
[Enter Calpurnia.]
CALPURNIA. What mean you, Caesar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day. CAESAR. Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten me Ne’er look but on my back; when they shall see The face of Caesar, they are vanished. CALPURNIA. 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! CAESAR. 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. CALPURNIA. When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. CAESAR. 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.— [Re-enter Servant.]
What say the augurers?
SERVANT. 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. CAESAR. 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. CALPURNIA. 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. CAESAR. Mark Antony shall say I am not well, And, for thy humor, I will stay at home. [Enter Decius.]
Here’s Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.
DECIUS. Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy Caesar: I come to fetch you to the Senate-house. CAESAR. 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. CALPURNIA. Say he is sick. CAESAR. Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretch’d mine arm so far, To be afeard to tell greybeards the truth?— Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come. DECIUS. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laugh’d at when I tell them so. CAESAR. 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 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. DECIUS. 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. CAESAR. And this way have you well expounded it. DECIUS. 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 your proceeding bids me tell you this; And reason to my love is liable. CAESAR. How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. [Enter Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, Trebonius, and Cinna.] And look where Publius is come to fetch me.
PUBLIUS. Good morrow, Caesar. 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? BRUTUS. Caesar, ‘tis strucken eight. CAESAR. I thank you for your pains and courtesy. [Enter Antony.]
See! Antony, that revels long o’nights, Is notwithstanding up.—Good morrow, Antony. ANTONY. So to most noble Caesar. 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 to-day; Be near me, that I may remember you. TREBONIUS. Caesar, I will. [Aside.] and so near will I be, That your best friends shall wish I had been further. CAESAR. Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me; And we, like friends, will straightway go together. BRUTUS. [Aside.] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! [Exeunt.]
[Enter Artemidorus, reading paper.]
ARTEMIDORUS. “Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna; trust not Trebonius; mark well Metellus Cimber; Decius Brutus loves thee not; thou hast wrong’d Caius Ligarius. 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, Artemidorus.” Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this. My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation.— If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.
[Exit.]
[Enter Portia and Lucius.]
PORTIA. I pr’ythee, boy, run to the Senate-house; Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. Why dost thou stay? LUCIUS. To know my errand, madam. PORTIA. I would have had thee there, and here again,