 Act 1 of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Narrator, read by Peter Yersley. Flavius, read by Maria Casper. Morales, read by Ray Casper. First commoner, read by Thomas Peter. Second commoner, read by Charlotte Duckett. Julius Caesar, read by Beth Thomas. Casca, read by Maria Casper. Antony, read by a Stregan Simonides. Calponia, read by Sonia. Soothsayer, read by Charlotte Duckett. Brutus, read by Linda B. Cassius, read by Brad Philippone. Cicero, read by Paul Huxley. Sinner, the politician, read by Anna Simon. Lucius, read by Gabi. Desius Brutus, read by Thomas Peter. Metellus Simba, read by John Burlinson. Trebonius, read by Mark Thornton. Portia, read by Lydia. Ligarius, read by Phil Shamp. Servant, read by Leanne. Puglius, read by Brian. Artemidorus, read by John Burlinson. Papillius, read by Phil Shamp. First citizen, read by Rachel. Second citizen, read by Sonia. Third citizen, read by Gabi. Fourth citizen, read by Thomas Peter. Sinner, the poet, read by Ray Casper. Poet, read by Ray Casper. Octavius, read by Charlotte Duckett. Lepidus, read by Leanne. Pindarus, read by Phil Shamp. Lucilus, read by Rui Huck. First soldier, read by Thomas Peter. Second soldier, read by Gabi. Third soldier, read by Rachel. Messala, read by Sonia. Varro, read by Tony Addison. Claudius, read by Rachel. A messenger, read by Rachel. Titinius, read by Thomas Peter. Cato, read by Paul Huxley. Coletus, read by Leanne. Dardanius, read by Ray Casper. Volumnius, read by Maria Casper. Strato, read by Beth Thomas. Scene one, Rome, a street. Enter Flavius, Merulus, and certain commoners. 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? What, why, sir, a carpenter? Where is thy mother apron in thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on you, sir? What trade are you? Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman. I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. A trade, sir, that I hope. I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad souls. What trade, thou knave, thou nutty knave, what trade? Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet, if you go out, sir, I can mend you. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou frosty fellow. Why, sir, cobble you. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? Truly, sir, all that I live by is with thee all. I meddle with no tradesmen's matters, no woman's matters, but with thee all. I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes. When they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men ever trod upon each lever have gone upon my handiwork. But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? Truly, sir, to wear out their souls, to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar and to rejoice his triumph. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, to grace and captive bonds his chariot reels? You blocks, you storms, you worse than senseless things. Oh, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, knew you not, Pompey, many a time and often, 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 live long day with patient expectation to see great Pompey past the streets of Rome. And when you saw his chariot but appear, have you not made a 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 call 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 your gods to intermit the plague that needs must light on this ingratitude. Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault, assemble all the poor men of your sort, draw them to the Tiber banks, and weep your tears into the channel, till the lowest stream do kiss the most exalted shores of all. Exeont, all the commoners. See, whether their basest metal be not moved, they vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the capital. This way will I. Disrobe the images, if you do find them decked with ceremonies. May we do so. You know it is a piece to gloom for a call. 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? Exeont. Scene two, a public place. Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calpurnia, Portia, Desius Brutus, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius and Casca, a great crowd following, among them a soothsayer. Calpurnia. Peace, oh, Caesar speaks. Calpurnia. Hear, my lord. Stand you directly in Antonius's 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 baron touched in this holy chase shake off their sterile curse. I shall remember. When Caesar says, do this, it is performed. Sit 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 shiller than all the music. Cry, Caesar, speak. Caesar is turned to hear. 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 sayest thou to me now? Speak once again. Beware the Ides of March. He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass. Sennet. Hexeant. All except Brutus and Cassius. 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 leave you. Brutus, I do observe you now of late. I have not from your eyes that gentleness and show of love as I was wont to have. You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand over your friend that loves you. Cassius, be not deceived. If I have 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. Then, Brutus, I have much, Mr. Kilpassion, by means whereof this breast of mine hath buried thoughts of great value worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself, but by reflection, by some other things. Tis just, and it is very much lamented, Brutus, that you have no such mirrors as will turn your hidden worthiness into your eye that you 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 of yoke hath wished 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? For 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, for I, a common laffer, 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 route, then hold me dangerous. Flourish and shout. What means this shouting? I do fear the people choose Caesar for their king. I, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so? I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, set honour in one eye, and death in the other, and I will look on both indifferently. But let the God so speed me, as I love the name of honour more than I fear death. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, as well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men think of this life, but for my single self, I had his leaf not be as lived to be an awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born as free as Caesar, so were you. We both have fed as well, and we can both enjoy the winter's cold as well as ye. For once upon a raw and gusty day, the troubled Tybur chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, Deris Thou, Cassius, now leap in with me into this angry flood, and swim to yonder point. Upon the word, a cutress 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 a Neasar great ancestor, did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder the old Ancaisys bear, so from the waves of Tybur 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 not 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, disdrew this god did shake. His coward lips did from their colour fly, and that same I, whose bendeth all the world did lose his luster, I did hear him groan, I, and that tongue of his that bat the Romans mark him, and write his speeches in their books, alas it cried, Give me some drink to Tyneus, as a sick girl. Ye gods it amaze me, a man of such a feeble temper should so get the start of the majestic world, and bear the palm alone! SHOUT FLURRISH Another general shout. I do believe that these applausees offer some new honours that are heaped 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 such times are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings. What should be in that Caesar? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together. Yours is his fairer name. Sound them. It doth become the mouth as well. Weigh them. It is as heavy. Conjure with them. Brutus, we'll start a spirit as soon as Caesar. Now in the names of all the gods at once upon what meat doth this our Caesar fee that he has grown so great, age thou art shamed, Rome thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods. When with thereby 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, 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 broke the eternal devil to keep his state in Rome as easily as a king. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous. What you would work me to, I have some aim. How I have thought of this and of these times, I shall recount hereafter. For this present I would not, so with love I might entreat you, be any further moved. What you have said I will consider. What you have to say, I will with patience here, 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. The games are done, and Caesar is returning. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, and he will, after his sour fashion, tell you what hath proceeded worthy note to-day. Re-enter Caesar and his train. I will do so. But look, Eucaceus, the angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, and all the rest look like a chidden train. Calpurnius cheek his pale, and Cicero looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes as we have seen him in the capital, being crossed in conference by some senators. Casca will tell us what the matter is. Antonius. Caesar. Let me have men about me that are fat, sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-night. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. Fear him not, Caesar. He is 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, Antoni. He hears no music. Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort as if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit that could be moved to smile at anything. Such men as he be never at heart's ease, whilst they behold a greater than themselves, and therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be feared 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 thinkst of him. Senate. Exceunt Caesar and all his train but Casca. You polled me by the cloak. Did you speak with me? I, Casca, tell us what hath chanced to-day that Caesar looked so sad. Why, you were with him, were you not? I should not then ask Casca what hath chanced. Why, there was a crown offered him, and being offered him he put it by with the back of his hand, thus, and then the people fell a-shouting. What was the second noise for? Why, for that too. They shouted thrice, what was the last cry for? Why, for that too. Was the crown offered him thrice? I, Mary, was it? Then 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 a mark, Antony, offer him a crown. Yet it was not a crown, neither, it was one of these coronets. And as I told you he put it by once, but for all that to my thinking he would vain 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 at 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 swunged it and fell down at it, and for my own part I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. But, soft, I pray you, what did Caesar swoon? He fell down in the market place, then foamed at the mouth and was speechless. Tis very like. He hath the failing sickness. No, Caesar hath it not. But you and I, and Honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. I know not what you mean by that, but I am sure Caesar fell down. If the rag-tag people did not clap and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they used to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man. What said he when he came unto himself? Mary. Before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me, ope his doublet, and offered them his throat to cut. And 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 nor said anything amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four winches where I stood cried, alas, good soul, and forgave him with all their hearts. But there's no heed to be taken of them. If Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. And after that he came thus sad away. I. Did Cicero say anything? I. He spoke Greek. To what effect? Nay, and I tell you that, I'll never look you in the face again. But those that understood him smiled at one another, and shook their heads. But from my known part it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news, too. Morales and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fair you well. There was more foolery yet if I could remember it. Will you suck with me to-night, Casca? No, I am promised forth. Will you dine with me to-morrow? Aye, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating. Good. I will expect you. Do so. Farewell, both. Exit. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be. He was quick-metal when he went to school. 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. 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. I will do so. Till then, think of the world. Exit, Brutus. Well, Brutus, thou art noble. Yet I see thy honourable metal may be wrought from that it is disposed. Therefore it is meat that noble minds keep ever with their likes, for whoso firm that cannot be seduced. Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus. If I were Brutus now and he were Casca's he should not humour me. I will this night in several hands in at his window 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, scene three, the same, a street. Thunder and lightning, enter from opposite sides, Casca with his sword drawn, and Cicero. But even, Casca, brought she Caesar home, why are you breathless, and why stare you so? I'm not you moved, when all the sway of earth shakes like a thing unfirm. Oh, Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds have rived the nutty oaks, and I have seen the ambitious oceans swell and rage and foam to be exalted with the threatening clouds. But never, till to-night, 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 a destruction. Why, so you any thing more wonderful? A common slave, you know him well by sight, held up his left hand, which did flame and burn, like twenty torches joined, and yet his hand, not sensible of fire, remained unscorched. Besides, I had not since put up my sword. Against the capital 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 market-place, hooting 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 potentious things, unto the climate that they point upon. Indeed, it is a strange disposed time, but men may construe things after their fashion, clean from the purpose of the things themselves. Come, seize it to the capital tomorrow. He'd off, for he did bid Antonius send word to you, he would be there to-morrow. Good night, then, Cascar. This disturbed sky is not to walk in. Farewell, Cicero. Exit, Cicero. Enter Cassius. Who's there? A Roman. Cascar, by your voice. Your ear's good. Cassius, what night is this? A very pleasing night to honest men. Who ever knew the heavens menace so? Those that have known the earth so full of faults. For my part I have walked about the streets, submitting me unto the perilous night, and thus unbrace it, Cascar, as you see, have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone, and when the cross- blue lightning seemed to open the breast of heaven, I did present myself even in the aim and very flash of it. But wherefore did you so tempt the heavens? It is the part of men to fear and tremble when the most mighty gods by tokens send such dreadful heralds to astonish us. You are dull, Cascar, 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 fool and children calculate, why all these things change from their ordinance, their natures, and perform at 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, Cascar, name to thee a man most like this dreadful night that thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars asst off the lion in the capital, a man no mightier than thyself or me in personal action, yet prodigious-grown and fearful as the strange eruptions are. Tis Caesar that you mean, is it not, Cassius? Let it be who it is. For Romans now have fused in limbs like to their ancestors. But woe the while, our father's minds are dead, and we are governed with our mother's spirits. Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. Indeed, they say the senator's 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. 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 that pleasure. Sunder still. So can I. So every bond man, in his own hand, bears the power to cancel his captivity. 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 awful would it serve for the base matter to illuminate so vile a thing as Caesar? But, oh, grief, where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this before a willing bond man, then I know my answer must be made. But I am armed and dangers are to me indifferent. You speak to Casca, and to such a man that is no flearing tell-tale. Hold, my hand, be factious for redress of all these griefs, and I will set this foot of mine as far as who goes farthest. There's a bargain made. Now know, you Casca, I have moved already some certain of the noblest-minded Romans to undergo with me an enterprise of honourable, dangerous consequence, and I do know by this they stay for me and pompies porch, for now this fearful night there is no stir or walking in the streets, and the complexion of the element in favours like the work we have in hand, most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. To Sinna, I do know him by his gate, he is a friend. Enter Sinna. Sinna, where haste you so? To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Simba? No, it is Casca, one in corporate to our attempts. Am I not stayed for, Sinna? I'm glad on it. What a fearful night is this. There's two or three of us have seen strange sight. Am I not stayed for? Tell me. Yes, you are. Oh, Cassius, if you could but win the noble Brutus to our party. Be you content. Good Sinna, 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 Dessius Brutus and Trebodius there? Old but Metellus Simba, and he's gone to seek you at your house. Well, I will hide and so bestow these papers as you bade me. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. Exit Sinna. Come, Casca. You and I will yet ere day see Brutus at his house. Three parts of him is ours already, and the man in tire upon the next encounter yields him ours. Oh, he sits high in all the people's hearts, and that which would appear offence in us. His countenance, like richest alchemy, will change to virtue and to worthiness. Him and his worth, and our great need of him, you have right well conceded. Let us go, for it is after midnight, and ere day we will awake him and be sure of him. Exeunt. End of Act I. Act II of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene I. Rome. Brutus is orchard. Enter 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. Called you, my lord? Get me a taper in my study, Lucius. When it is lighted, come and call me here. I will, my lord. Exit. It must be by his death. And for my part I know no personal cause to spurn at him. But for the general, he would be crowned. How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves weary walking. Crown him, that. And then I grant, we put a sting in him, that at his will he may do danger with. The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins remorse from power, and to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections swayed more than his reason. But it is a common proof that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, were to the climber upward turns his face. But when he once attains the utmost round, he then unto the ladder turns his back, looks into the clouds, scorning the base degrees by which he did ascend. So Caesar may. Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel will bear no colour for the thing he is, fashion it thus, that what he is augmented would run to these and these extremities. And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, which hatched would, as his kind, grow mischievous, and kill him in the shell. He enter Lucius. The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found this paper, thus sealed up, and I am sure it did not lie there when I went to bed. Gives him the letter. Get you to bed again, it is not day. Is not, to-morrow, boy, the Ides of March? I know not, sir. Look in the calendar, and bring me word. I will, sir. Exit. The exhalations whizzing in the air give so much light that I may read by them. Open the letter, and read. Brutus thou sleepst, awake, and see thyself. Shall roam, etcetera, speak, strike, redress. Brutus thou sleepst, awake. Such instigations have been often dropped where I have took them up. Shall roam, etcetera. This must I piece it out. Shall roam stand under one man's oar? What roam! My ancestors did from the streets of Rome the Tarquin drive, when he was called a king. Speak, strike, redress. Am I entreated to speak and strike? Oh, roam, I make thee promise. If the redress will follow, thou receivest thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. Reinterlucious. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. Knocking within. Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks. Exit, Lucius. Since Cassius first did wet 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 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. Reinterlucious. Sir, this your brother Cassius at the door, who doth desire to see you. Is he alone? No, sir, there are more with him. Do you know them? No, sir, their heads are plucked about their ears and half their faces buried in their cloaks, that by no means I may discover them by any mark of favour. Let him enter. Exit, Lucius. They are the faction. O conspiracy! Shameless 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 non-conspiracy. Hide it in smiles and affability. For if thou path thy native semblance on, not Erebus itself were dim enough to hide thee from prevention. Enter the conspirators Cassius, Casca, Decius Brutus, Sina, Metellus, Simba, and Trebonius. 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 head 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 Sina, and this Metellus Simba. They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpose themselves, betwixt your eyes and night? Shall I entreat a word? Brutus and Cassius whisper. Here lies the east. Doth not the daybreak here? No. Oh, pardon to it doth, and young grey 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, 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 capital, directly here. Give me your hands all over, one by one, and let us swear our resolution. No, not an oath. If not the face of men, the sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse, if these be motives weak, break off betimes and every man hence to his idle bed. So let high-sighted tourney 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 steal 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 spoken the word and will not paltre, 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 courtiless, old feeble carions and such suffering souls that welcome wrongs, unto bad causes swear such creatures as men doubt, but do not stain the even virtue of our enterprise, nor the insuppressive metal of our spirits, to think that, or our cause, or our performance, did need an oath, when every drop of blood that every Roman bears and nobly bears is guilty of a several bastardy, if he do break the smallest particle of any promise that hath passed from him. But what of Cicero shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us. Let us not leave him out. No, by no means. Oh, 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 wit appear, but all be buried in his gravity. Oh, name him not. Let us not break with him, for he will never follow anything that other men begin. Then leave him out. Indeed he is not fit. Shall no man else be touched but only Caesar? Deceus well urged. I think it is not meat, Mark Antony, so well-deluv'd of Caesar, should outlive Caesar. We shall find of him a shrewd contriver, and you know his means, if he improve them, may well stretch so far as to annoy us all, which to prevent, let Antony and Caesar fall together. Our course will seem too bloody, Caus Cassius. To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs, like Roth in death, and envy afterwards. For Antony has but a limb of Caesar. Let us be sacrifices, but not butchers, Caus. We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar, and in the spirit of men there is no blood. Oh, 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 rothfully. Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, not hue him as a carcass fit for hounds. And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, stir up their servants to an active rage, and after seem to chide him. This shall make our purpose necessary, and not envious. Which so, appearing to the common eyes, we shall be called purges, 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. Yet I fear him, for the engrafted 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 where much he should, for he is given to sports, to wildness, and much company. There is no fear in him. Let him not die, for he will live aloft this hereafter. Clock strikes. Peace. Count the clock. The clock hath stricken three. Tis time to part. But it is doubtful yet whether Caesar will come forth to-day or no, for he is superstitious grown of late, quite from the main opinion he held once a fantasy of dreams and ceremonies. It may be these apparent prodigies, the unaccustomed terror of this night, and the persuasion of his augurers, may hold him from the capital to-day. Never fear that. If he be so resolved, I can o'er sway him. For he loves to hear that unicorns may be betrayed with trees, and bears with glasses, elephants with holes, lions with toils, and men with flatterers. But when I turn 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 capital. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. By the eighth hour. Is that the uttermost? Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. Caius Legarius doth bear Caesar hard, who rated him for speaking well of Pompey. I wonder none of you have thought of him. Now good Metellus, go along by him. He loves me well, and I have given him reasons. Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. The morning comes uponce. We'll leave you, Brutus, and friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember what you have said, and show yourselves true rovens. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily. It 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. Exiant 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 sleepst so sound. Enter Portia. 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 un-gently, Brutus, stole from my bed, and yesterday night at supper. You suddenly arose and walked about, musing and sighing with your arms across, and when I asked you what the matter was, you stared upon me with un-gently looks. I urged you further, then you scratched your head, and too impatiently stamped your foot. Yet I insisted, yet you answered not. But with angry wafture of the hand gave sign for me to leave you, so I did, fearing to strengthen that impatience, which seemed too much and kindled, and with all hoping it was but an effect of humour, which hath sometimes 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 prevailed on your condition? I should not know you, Brutus. 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 portion, go to bed. Is Brutus sick, and is it physical to walk on grace, and suck up the humours of the dink morning? What, is Brutus sick, and will he steal out of his wholesome bed, to dare the vile contagions of the night, and attempt the roomy 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 are you heavy, and what men tonight have had to resort to you, for here have been some six or seven who did hide their faces, even from darkness? Kneel not, gentle portion. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage tell me, Brutus, is it accepted 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 to talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs of your good pleasure, if it be no more, Portia is Brutus's harlot, not his wife. You are my true and honourable wife, as dear to me as are the ruddy drops that visit my sad heart. If this were true, then should I know this secret? I grant I am a woman, but with all, a woman that Lord Brutus took to wife. I grant I am a woman, but with all, a woman well reputed, Cato's daughter. Think you I am no stronger than my sex, being so fathered and so husbanded? Tell me all your councils, I will not disclose them. 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? Oh, ye gods, render me worthy of this noble wife. Knocking within. Hark! Hark! One knocks. Portia, go in a while, and by and by thy bosom shall partake the secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee. All the coractory of my sad brows, leave me with haste. Exit Portia. Lucius! Who's that knocks? We enter Lucius with Ligarius. He is a sick man that would speak with you. Kias Ligarius that Metellus spake off. Boy, stand aside. Kias Ligarius, how? About safe good, Morrow, from a feeble tongue. Oh, what time have you chose out brave Kias to wear a kerchief? Would you were not sick? I am not sick, if Brutus had in hand any exploit worthy the name of honour. Which an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius? Had you a healthful ear to hear of it? By all the gods that Romans bow before, I hear discard my sickness. Soul of Rome, brave son, derive from honourable loins. Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up my mortified spirit. Now bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible. Yay, get the better of them. What's to do? A piece of work that will make sick men whole. But are not some whole that we must make sick? That must we also. What it is, my Kias, I shall unfold to thee as we are going. To whom it must be done. Set on your foot, and with a heart new-fired I follow you. To do I know not what, but it's sufficeth that Brutus leads me on. Follow me, then. Exeunt. Seen to Caesar's house. Enter and lightning. Enter Caesar in his nightgown. Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night. Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, Help, oh, they murder Caesar. Who's within? Enter a servant. My lord? Go bid the priests to present sacrifice, and bring me their opinions of success. I will, my lord. Exit. Enter Calpurnia. 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 threatened me, near looked 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 yawned, 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 capital. 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 place forth the death of princes. Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come. What say the auguras? 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 be a 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 littered 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. Caesar Dessius Brutus Here's Dessius 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, Dessius. Say ye sick. Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretched my arms so far to be afraid to tell graybeards the truth? Dessius, go tell them Caesar will not come. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause lest I be laughed at when I tell them so. The cause is in my will. I will not come. That is enough to satisfy the Senate. But for your private satisfaction, because I love you, I will let you know. Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home. She dreamt tonight she saw my statua, which, like a fountain within 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 begged that I will stay at home to-day. This dream is all a misinterpreted. 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 cognisance. This, by Calpurnia's dream, is signified. And this way have you well expounded it? I have, when you have heard what I can say, and know it now. The Senate have concluded to give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. If you shall send them word you will not come, their minds may change. Besides, it were mock apt to be rendered, 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 he not whisper, lo, Caesar is afraid? Pardon me, Caesar, for my dear, dear love to our proceeding bids me tell you this, and reason to my love is liable. How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. Caesar, Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Cascar, Trebonius, and Sinner. And look, where Publius has come to fetch me! Good morrow, Caesar! Welcome, Publius! What, Brutus? Are you stirred so early too? Good morrow, Cascar! Cias, Ligarius! Caesar was near so much your enemy as that same egg you which hath made you lean. What is to clock? Caesar, to Struckon, 8. I thank you for your pains and courtesy. Caesar, Antony. See, Antony, that revels long a nights is not withstanding up. Good morrow, Antony. So to most noble Caesar! Bid them prepare within. I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Sinner, now, Metellus, what, Trebonius? I have an hour's talk in store for you. Remember that you call on me today. Be near me, that I may remember you. Caesar, I will. Aside. And so near will I be, for your best friend shall wish I had been further. One 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. Exiant. Sin 3. A street near the capital. Enter Artemidorus, reading a paper. Caesar, beware of Brutus. Take heed of Cassius. Come not near Casca. Have an eye to Sinner. Trust not, Trebonius. Markwell, Metellus, Simba. Deceus Brutus loves thee not. Thou hast wronged Cius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent against Caesar. If thou beest 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 mayst live. If not, the fates with traitors do contrive. Exit. Question four, another part of the same street, before the House of Brutus. Enter Portia and Lucius. I pray thee, boy, run to the Senate House. Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. Why dost thou stay? To know my errand, madam. I would have had thee there, and here again. Here I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. O Constancy, be strong upon my sight, set a huge mountain between my heart and tongue. I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. How hard it is for women to keep counsel. What thou hear yet? Madam, what should I do? Run to the capital, and nothing else? And so return to you, and nothing else? Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, for he went sickly forth, and take good note, what Caesar doth, that suit is pressed to him. Hark, boy, what noise is that? I hear none, madam. Pretty listen well. I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, and the wind brings it from the capital. Soothe, madam. I hear nothing. Come hither, fellow, which way hast thou been? At my own house, good lady. What is the clock? About the ninth hour, lady. Is Caesar yet gone to the capital? Madam, not yet. I go to take my stand, to see him pass on the capital. Thou hast some suit to Caesar, has thou not? That I have, lady. If you'll please Caesar to be so good to Caesar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself. I knowest thou any harms intended toward him? None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow, the throng that follows Caesar at his heels of senators, of praetors, common suitors, but crowd a feeble man almost to death. I'll get me a place more void, and there I'll speak to great Caesar as he comes along. Exit. I must go in. I mean, how weak a thing the heart of a woman is. O Brutus, the heaven speed thee in thine enterprise. Sure the boy heard me. Brutus hath a suit, that Caesar will not grant. Oh, I grow faint. Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord. Say, I am merry. Come to me again, and bring me word what he doth say to thee. Exiant severally. End of Act 2. Act 3 of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene 1. Rome. Before the capital, the senate sitting above. A crowd of people, among them are Temidorus and the Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Dessius Brutus, Metellus Simba, Trebonius, Sina, Antony, Lepidus, Opilius, Ubleus, and others. Caesar to the Soothsayer. The Ides of March are come. Aye, Caesar, but not gone. Hail, Caesar, read this schedule. Trebonius doth desire you to read, at your best leisure. This is humble suit. Oh, 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? Sir, give place. What urged you your petitions in the street? Come to the capital. Caesar goes up to the senate house, the rest following. I wish your enterprise today may thrive. What enterprise, Papillus? Fare you well. Advances to Caesar. What said Papillus Lina? He wished today our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered. Look how he makes to Caesar. Mark him. Casca be sudden, for we fear prevention. Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, for I will slay myself. Cassius, be constant. Papillus Lina 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. Exeont Antony and Trebonius. Where is Metallus Simba? Let him go, and presently prefer his suit to Caesar. He is addressed. 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 poisoned, Caesar. Metallus Simba throws before thy seat an humble heart. Nailing. I must prevent thee, Simba. 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 thawed from the true quality with that which melted fools. I mean, sweet words, low crooked courtesies, 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. No, 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 banished brother? I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar, desiring thee that Publius Simba may have an immediate freedom of repeal. What, Brutus? Pardon, Caesar, Caesar pardon, as low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall to beg in franchisement for Publius Simba. 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 fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumbered 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 furnished 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 Simba should be banished, and constant do remain to keep him so. O Caesar! Hence, will thou lift up Olympus? Great Caesar! Doth not, Brutus, Brutus Neal? Speak, hands, for me! There first, then the other conspirators, and Brutus, stab Caesar. It too, Brut, then fall Caesar. Dies. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence! Proclaim! Cry it about the streets! Sum to the common puppets, and cry out Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement! People and senators, be not affrighted! Fly not! Stand stiff! Ambition's debt is paid! Go to the pulpit, Brutus! And Cassius too. Where's Publius? Here. Quite confounded with this mutiny. 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. We enter Trebonius. Where is Antony? Fleck to his house, amazed! Men, wives, and children's stare, cry out, or run, as if it were doomsday. Fates, we will know your pleasures. That we shall die, we know. It is but the time and drawing days out that men stand upon. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, cuts off so many years of fearing death. Grant that, and then his death, a benefit. So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged his time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans! Stoop and let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood, up to the elbows, and besmere our swords. Then walk we forth, even to the marketplace, and waving our red weapons o'er our heads. Let's all cry, peace, freedom, and liberty. 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 is that shall be, so often shall the knot of us be called, the men who gave their country liberty. What shall we forth? Aye, every man away, Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels with the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. Enter a servant. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Thus Brutus did my master bid me kneel, thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down. And been prostate, thus he bade me say, Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest. Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving. Say I love Brutus, and I honour him. Say I feared Caesar, honoured him, and loved him. If Brutus will vouchsave that Antony may safely come to him, and be resolved how Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead so well as Brutus living, but will follow the fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus throughout the hazards of this unrolled state, with all true faith, so says my master Antony. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman, I never thought him worse. Tell him, so please him come unto this place, he shall be satisfied, and by my honour depart untouched. I'll fetch him presently. Exit. I know that we shall have him well to friend. I wish we may, but yet have I a mind that fears him much, and mine this giving still falls shrewdly to the purpose. But here comes Antony. Re-enter Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. Oh mighty Caesar, does the lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils shrunk to this little measure? Fairly 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, Basisci, if ye bear me hard, now, whilst your purple hands do reek and smoke, fulfill 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. Oh Antony, beg not your death of us, though now we must appear bloody and cruel as by our hands, and this our present act you see we do, yet see you but our hands, and this the bleeding business they have done. Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful, and pity to the general wrong of Rome, as fire drives out fire so pity pity hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, to you our swords have ledden points, Mark Antony, our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts of brother's temper, to receive you in with all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. More 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, I will I shake with you, next, Chaos Cassius, do I take your hand. Now, Decius Brutus, yours, now yours, Metellus, yours, Senna, and my valiant Casca, yours. Though last not last in love, yours, good Trebonius. Gentlemen all, alas, what shall I say? My credit now stands on such slippery ground that one of too bad ways you must conceit me, either a coward or a flatterer, that I did love thee, Caesar, oh, just true! And then thy spirit look upon us now, shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death to see thy Anthony making his feast, shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, most noble in the presence of thy course, had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, it would become me better than to close in terms of friendship with thine enemies. Pardon me, Julius, here was thou bade, braveheart, here did thou fall, and here thy hunter stand, signed in thy soil, and crimsoned in thy leaf, oh, world, thou wasst the forest to this heart, and this indeed a world the heart of thee, held like a deer, struck in by many princes, dost thou here lie? Mark Anthony. Pardon me, K.S. Cassius, the enemies of Caesar shall say this, then, in a friend, it is called modesty. I blame you not for praising Caesar so, but what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be pricked in number of our friends, or shall we on and not depend on you? Therefore I take your hands, but was indeed swayed from the point by looking down on Caesar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all, upon this hope that you shall give me reasons why, and wherein Caesar was dangerous. Or else were this a savage spectacle. Our reasons are so full of good regard, that were you, Anthony, 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 marketplace, to speak in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, speak in the order of his funeral. You shall, Mark Anthony. Brutus, a word with you. Aside to Brutus. You know not what you do. Do not consent that Anthony 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 Anthony shall speak, I will protest he speaks by leave and by permission, and that we are contented Caesar shall have all true rights and lawful ceremonies. It shall advantage more than doers wrong. I know not what may fall, I like it not. Mark Anthony. 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 it by our permission, else shall you not have any hand at all about his funeral. And you shall speak in the same pulpit where to I am going, after my speech is ended. Be it so, I do desire no more. Prepare the body then, and follow us. Exaunt, all that Anthony. O pardon me thou bleeding piece of earth, that I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood, over thy wounds now do I prophesy, which like dumb mouths do ope the ruby lips, to beg the voice and utterance of my tongue. A curse shall light upon the limbs of men. Domestic fury and fierce civil strife shall cumber all the parts of Italy. Blood and destruction shall be so in use, that dreadful object so familiar, that mother shall but smile when they behold their infants quartered with the hands of war. All pity choked with custom of feldeeds. And Caesar's spear ranging for revenge, with Atte at his side, come hot from hell. In these confines with a monarch's voice cry, have it, and let slip the dogs of war, that this foul deed shall smell above the earth, with carrion men groaning for burial. Enter a servant. You serve Octavia Caesar, do you not? I do, Mark Anthony. Caesar did right 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. Seeing the body. My heart is big, at the apartment weep. Passion I see is cashing. For my eyes, seeing those beads of sorrow stand in line, begin to water. Is my master coming? He lies to-night, within seven leagues of Rome. Post back with speed, and tell him what I've chanced. Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, no Rome of safety for Octavius yet. High hence and tell him so, yet. Stay awhile. Thou shalt not back, shall I have borne this course into the marketplace. There shall I try in my oration. How will the people take the cruel issue of these bloody men, according to the which thou shalt discourse to young Octavius of the state of things? Lend me your hand. Exiant with Caesar's body. Scene two. The forum. Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of citizens. 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 him stay here. Those that will follow Cassius, go with him. And public reasons shall be rendered of Caesar's death. I will hear Brutus speak. I will hear Cassius, and compare their reasons when severally we hear them rendered. Exit Cassius, with some of the citizens. Brutus goes into the pulpit. The noble Brutus is ascended. Silence. Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers. Hear me for my cause, and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for my honour, and have respect to my honour that you may believe. Sense your 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 loved 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. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the capital, his glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. 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! Live, Brutus! Bring him with triumph home into his house! Give him a statue with his ancestors. Let him be Caesar. Caesar's better part shall be crowned and bruised. We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamors. My countrymen! Peace, silence! Brutus speaks. Peace, hope! Good countrymen, let me depart alone. And for my sake stay here with Antony. Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech tending to Caesar's glories, which Mark Antony, by our permission, is allowed to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, save I alone, till Antony have spoke. Exit. Stay, Ho, and let us hear Mark Antony. Let him go up into the public chair. We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up. For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. Goes into the pulpit. What does he say of Brutus? He says, for Brutus' sake, he finds himself beholding to us all. To where best he speak no harm of Brutus here. This Caesar was a tyrant. Nay, that's certain. We are blessed that Rome is rid of him. Peace, let us hear what Antony can say. You gentle Romans. Peace, ho, let us hear him. 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 often teared with their bones. So what of you with Caesar? The noble Brutus has told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously had Caesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, for Brutus is an honorable man. So are they all, all honorable 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 honorable 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 certain stuff. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. You all did see that on the looper cow, 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 honorable 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? Oh, judgment! There are fled to Brutus's beasts, and men have lost their reason. Bear with me. My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it comes back to me. He thinks 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 words come in his place. Marks he his words? He will not take the crown. Therefore, to his certain, he was not ambitious. If it be found so, some will derebide it. For so, his eyes are red as fire with weeping. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Anthony. Now mark him. He begins again to speak. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. Now lies he there, and none so poor to do him reverence. Oh, 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 honorable men. I will not do them wrong. I rather choose to wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you than I will wrong such honorable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar. I found it in his closet, to 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. Yay, beg a hair of him for memory. And dying, mention it within their wills, bequeathing it as a rich legacy unto their issue. We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Anthony. The will of Caesar's will. We will hear Caesar's will. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it. It is not me 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 hear his heirs. For if you should, oh, what would come of it? Read the will. We'll hear it, Anthony. You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have washed out myself to tell you of it. I fear I wronged the honourable men whose daggers have stabbed Caesar. I do fear it. They were traitors, honourable men. The will. Testimony. The will. The testament. They were evidence, murderers. The will. Read the will. You will compel me then to 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? Come down. Come down. You shall have leave. Anthony comes down. A ring. Stand round. Stand from the body. Move for Anthony, most noble Anthony. Nay, press not so upon me. Stand far off. Stand back. Stand back. They're back. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all don't know this mantle, I remember. The first time ever Caesar put it on. It was on a summer's evening in his tent. That day he overcame the nervy. Look in his place when Cassie staggered through. See what a rent the envious casket made, and through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed. And as he plucked his cursed steel away, mark how the blood of Caesar followed it, as rushing out of doors to be resolved, it Brutus so unkindly knocked her known. For Brutus, as you know it was Cedus Angel, judge, oh you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him. This was the most unkindest cut of all. For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, in gratitude, more strong than Trader's arms, quite vanquished 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. Oh what a fall was there, my countrymen. Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, whilst bloody trees and flourished over us. Oh now you weep, and I perceive you feel, the dint of pity, these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you, when you must behold our Caesar's vestors wounded? Look you here, here is himself, marred as we see with Trader's. Oh pity is spectacle. Oh noble Caesar. A woeful day. Oh Tratus, villains. Some of those bloody sights. We will be revenged. Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slend! Let not a traitor live. Peace there. Hear the noble answer. We hear him. We follow him. We'll die with him. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up through such a sudden flood of mutiny. Native that have done these deed are honourable. What private groups 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 clean, blunt man that loved my friend, and that they know full well, they gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit nor words nor words. 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 who had ruffled up your spirits and put a tongue in every wound of Caesar. That should move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. We'll mutiny. We'll burn the house of Brutus. Away then. Come, seek the conspirator. Yet hear me, countryman. Yet hear me speak. Peace, ho. Hear me, Antony. Most noble Antony. 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. Most true. The will. Let's stay and hear the will. Here is the will and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives. To every several man, 75 drachmas. Most noble Caesar will revenge his death. Oh, royal Caesar. Hear me with patience. Peace, ho. Peace, ho. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, his private arbors, and new planted orchards. On this side, Tiber, he hath left them you and to your heirs forever common pleasures to walk abroad and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar. Caesar, when comes such another? Never, never. Come away, away. We'll burn his body in the holy place and let the brands fire the traitor's houses. Take up the body. Go fetch fire. Fluck down bensons. Fluck down forms, windows, anything. Exaunt citizens with the body. Now let it work. Mischief thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt. Enter a servant. How now, fellow? Sir, Octaves is already come to Rome. Where is he? He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. And thither will I straight to visit him. He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius are rid like madmen through the gaze of Rome. Be like they had some notice of the people, how I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius. Exaunt. Scene three. A street. Enter Sina the poet. I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar, and things unlucky charge my fantasy. I have no will to wander forth of doors, yet something leads me forth. Enter citizens. What is your name? Wither, are you going? Where do you go? Are you a married man or a bachelor? Answer every man directly. I briefly. I and wisely. I and truly you were best. What is my name? Wither, am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly, wisely I say I am a bachelor. That's as much as to say they are fools that marry. You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed directly. Directly I am going to Caesar's funeral. As a friend or an enemy? As a friend. That matter is answered directly. For your dwelling, briefly. I dwell by the capital. Your name, sir. Truly. Truly. My name is Synna. Tear him to pieces. He's a conspirator. I am Synna the poet. I am Synna the poet. Tear him for his bad verses. Tear him for his bad verses. I am not Synna the conspirator. It is no matter. His name's Synna. Pluck but his name out of his heart and turn him going. Tear him, tear him. Come, brands, hoe. Fire brands. To Brutus. To Cassius. Burn all. Some to Decius' house. And some to Cascas. Some to Ligarius. Away, go! Exeunt. End of Act 3. Act 4 of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Scene 1. A House in Rome. Antony Octavius and Lepidus seated at a table. These many then shall die. Their names are pricked. Your brother, too, must die. Consent, you Lepidus. I do consent. Pick him down, Antony. Upon condition, Pablius shall not live. Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony? He shall not live. Look with his spot, I damn him. But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house. Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine how to cut off some chargers and legacies. What, shall I find you here? Or here, or at the capital? Exeunt Lepidus. This is a slight unmeritable man, meet to be sent on errands. Is it fit the threefold world divided he should stand one of the three to share it? So you thought him, and took his voice so should be pricked to death in our black sentence and prescription. Octavius, I have seen more days than you. And though we lay these honors on this man to ease ourselves of diverse, slanderous lows, he shall but bear them as the aspects gold, to groan and sweat under the business, either led or driven as we point the way. And having brought our treasure where we will, then take we down his load and turn him off, like to the empty ass to shake his ears and graze in commons. You may do your well, but he's a tried and valiant soldier. So is my horse, Octavius, and for that I do a pointed store of Provenor. It is a creature that I teach to fight, to wind, to stop, to run directly on. His corporal motion governed by my spirit, and, in some taste, is lepidous but so. He must be taught and trained and bid go forth. A barren spirited fellow, one that feeds on abjects, orts and imitations, which, out of use and stale by other men, begin his fashion. Do not talk of him but as a property. And now, Octavius, listen great things. Brutus and Cassius are loving powers. We must straight make head. Therefore let our alliance be combined. Our best friends made. Our means stretched. And let us presently go sit in council. How covert matters may be best disclosed, and open perils surest answered. Let us do so, for we are at the stake, and bade about with many enemies. And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs. Exeont. Scene two, Camp Neosardis, before Brutus' tent. Drum. Here Brutus, Lucilius, Lucius and soldiers, Titinius and Pindaris, meeting them. Stand, ho! Give the word ho, and stand. What now, Lucilius? Is Cassius near? He is at hand, and Pindaris is come, to do you salutation from his master. He greets me well. Your master, Pindaris, in his own change, or by ill officers, has given me some worthy cause to wish things done, undone. But if he be at hand, I shall be satisfied. I do not doubt, but that my noble master will appear, such as he is, full of regard and honour. He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius, how he received you, let me be resolved. With courtesy and with respect enough, but not with such familiar instances, nor with such free and friendly conference, as he had used of old. Thou hast described a hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, when love begins to sicken and decay, it useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith, but hollow men, like horses hot at hand, make gallant show and promise of their metal. But when they should endure the bloody spur, they fall their crests, and like deceitful jades, sink in the trial. Comes his army on. They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered. The greater part, the horse in general, are come with Cassius. Hark, he has arrived. Low march within. March gently on to meet him. Enter Cassius and his powers. Stand ho! Stand ho! Speak the word along. Stand! Stand! Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. Judge me, you gods. Wrong eye, mine enemies. And if not so, how should I wrong a brother? Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, and when you do them— Cassius, be content. Speak your grief softly. I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our armies here, which should perceive nothing but love from us, let us not wrangle. Bid them move away, then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, and I will give you audience. Tenderous, bid our commanders lead their charges off a little from this ground. Lucilius, do you the like, and let no man come to our tent till we have done our conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door. Exeont. Scene three, Brutus' tent. Enter Brutus and Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this. You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella for taking bribes here of the Sardians, wherein my letters preying on his side as 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 meat that every nice offence should bear his comment. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm to sell and mart your offices for gold to undeservers. I, an itching palm, you know that you are Brutus that speak this, or by the gods this speech, where else you are 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's sake? What villain touched his body that did stab and not for justice? What shall one of us that struck the foremost man of all this world, but for supporting robbers, shall we now contaminate our fingers with base bribes and sell the mighty space of our large honours with so much trash as may be grasped thus. I had rather be a dog and bathe a moon than such a Roman. Brutus, bathe not me, I'll not endure it. You forget yourself to hedge me in. I am a soldier, I, older in practice, aguerre 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 collar? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? O ye gods, ye gods, must I endure all this? All this, I, more, fret till your proud heart break. Go show your slaves how choleric you are and make your bond men 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. For from this day forth I'll use you for my mirth, ye 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. There is no terror casious in your threats, for I am armed so strong in honesty, that they pass by me as the idle wind which I respect not. I did send to you, for certain sums of gold, which you denied me. For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven I had rather coin my heart, and drop my blood for drachmas, than to ring from the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, by any indirection. I did send to you for gold, to pay my legions, which you denied me. Was that done like casious? Should I have answered kias casious 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 have wrived my heart. A friend should bear his friends infirmities, but Brutus makes mine greater than they are. I do not till you practice them on me. You love me not. I do not like your faults. A friendly I 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 casious, for casious is a weary of the world, hated by one he loves, braved by his brother, checked like a bondman, all his faults observed, set in a notebook, learned and conned by rote to cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep my spirit from mine eyes. There is my dagger, and hear my naked breast, within a heart dearer than Brutus' mine, richer than gold, if that thou beest a Roman, take it forth. I, that deny thee gold, will give my heart, strike as thou didst at Caesar, for I know when thou didst hate him worse thou lovest him better than ever thou lovest casious. Sheeth your dagger. Be angry when you will, it shall have scope. Do what you will. Dishonour shall be humour. Oh, casious, 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. Have casious lived to be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, when grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him? When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered, too. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. And my heart, too. Oh, Brutus! What's the matter? Have you not love enough to bear with me when that rash humour which my mother gave me makes me forgetful? Yes, casious. And, from henceforth, when you are over-earnest with your Brutus, he'll think your mother chides and leave you so. Poet, within. Let me go in to see the generals. There is some grudge between them. It is not me to be alone. Lucilius, within. You shall not come to them. Poet, within. Nothing but death shall stay me. Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, Titinius, and Lucius. How now, what's the matter? For shame, you generals, what do you mean? Love and be friends as two such men should be. For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. Ha-ha! How violate of this scenic rhyme! Get you, hence, Sarah, saucy fellow, hence! Bear with him, Brutus, tis his fashion. I'll know his humour when he knows his time. What should the wars do with these jigging fools, companion, hence? Away, away be gone! Exit, Poet. Lucilius and Titinius bid the commanders prepare to lodge their companies to-night. And come yourselves and bring Massala with you immediately to us. Exit, Lucilius and Titinius. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Exit, Lucius. I did not think you could have been so angry. Oh, Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. Of your philosophy you make no use if you give place to accidental evils. No man bears sorrow better. Ha! Portia! She is dead. How scaped I killing when I crossed you so! Oh, 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 attendance absent. Swallowed fire. And died so? Even so. Oh 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. Fill, Lucius, till the wine or swell the cup. I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. Come in, Titinius. Exit, Lucius. Re-enter, Titinius, with Massala. Welcome, good Massala. Now sit we close about this taper here, and call in question our necessities. Horsha, art thou gone? No more, I pray you. Massala, 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 self-same Tenor. With what addition? That by prescription and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony and Lepidus have put to death a hundred senators. Therein our letters do not well agree. Mine speak of seventy senators that died by their prescriptions, Cicero being one. Cicero one? Cicero is dead, and by that order of prescription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? No, Massala. Nor nothing in your letters rid of her? Nothing, Massala. That, me things, is strange. Why ask you? Here you ought of her in yours? No, my lord. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Then, like a Roman, bear the truth, I tell. For certain, she is dead, and by strange manner. Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Massala. With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. Even so, great man, great losses should endure. I have as much of this in art as you, but yet my nature could not bear it so. Well, to our work alive. What do you think of marching to Philippi presently? I do not think it good. Your reason? This it is. It is better that the enemy seek us. So shall he waste his means where he his soldiers doing himself offence, whilst we lying still are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. Good reasons must of force give place to better. The people twist Philippi and this ground to stand but in a force of defection, for they have grudged us contribution. The enemy, marching along by them, by them shall make a fuller number up. Come on, refreshed, new-added, and encouraged. From which advantage shall we cut him off? If at Philippi we do face him there, these people at our back. Hear me, my good brother. Under your pardon. You must note beside that we have tried the utmost of our friends. Our legions are brimful. Our cause is ripe. The enemy increaseeth 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. Amidst 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? Enter Lucius. My gown! Exit Lucius. Farewell, good Massala. Good night to Tinius. Noble, noble Cassius, good night, and good repose. Oh, my dear brother, this was an ill beginning of the night. Never come such division between our souls. Let it not, Brutus. Everything is well. Good night, my lord. Good night, good brother. Good night, lord Brutus. Farewell, everyone. Exiant, all but Brutus. Re-enter Lucius with the gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Here in the tent. What thou speaks'd drowsily. Pornave, I blame thee not. Thou art all watched. Call Claudius and some other of my men. I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. Vero and Claudius. Enter Varo and Claudius. Calls my lord. I pray you, sirs. Lie in my tent and sleep. It may be I shall raise you by and by on business to my brother Cassius. So please you. We will stand and watch your pleasure. I will not have it so. Lie down, good sirs. It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius. Here's the book I sought for so. I put it in the pocket of my gown. Varo and Claudius. Lie down. I was sure your lordship did not give it me. Bear with me, good boy. I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while and touch thy instrument a strain or two? Aye, my lord. Aunt, please you. It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. It is my duty, sir. I should not urge thy duty past thy might. I know young blood's look for a time of rest. I have slept, my lord, already. It was well done. And thou shalt sleep again. I will not hold thee long. If I do live, I will be good to thee. Music and a song. This is a sleepy tune. Oh, murderous slumber. Lace thou thy leaden mace upon my boy that plays thee music. Gentle nave, good night. I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou breaks thy instrument. I'll take it from thee. And good boy, good night. Let me see. Let me see. Let me see. Let me see. Let me see. Is not the leaf turned down where I left reading? Here it is, I think. Enter the ghost of Caesar. How ill this taper burns! Ah! Who comes here? I think it is the weakness of my 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 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. I at Philippi. Why? I will see thee at Philippi then. Exit ghost. Now I have taken heart thou vanishest. Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy Lucius! Varro Claudius! Sirs awake! Claudius! The strings, my lord, are false. He thinks he still is at his instrument. Lucius awake! My lord? Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? My lord, I do not know that I did cry. Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything? Nothing, my lord. Sleep again, Lucius. Siric Claudius. Tuvarro. Fellow thou, awake! My lord? My lord? Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? Did with my lord? I saw you anything. No, my lord, I saw nothing. Nor I, my lord. Go and commend me to my brother Cassius. Bid him set on his powers betimes before, and we will follow. Be done, my lord. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered. You said the enemy would not come down, but keep the hills in upper regions. It proves not so. Their battles are at hand. They mean to warn us in Philippi here, answering before we do demand them. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know wherefore they do it. They could be content to visit other places and come down with fearful bravery, thinking by this space to fasten in our thoughts that they have courage. But, tis not so. Enter a messenger. Prepare you generals. He 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. March. Drum. Enter. Brutus, Cassius, and their army. Lucilius, Titinius, Missala, and others. They stand and would have Pali. Stand fast, Titinius. We must out and talk. Mark Antony. Shall we give the sign of battle? No, Caesar. We will answer on their charge. Make forth. The generals would have some words. Stir not until the signal. Words before blows. Is it so, countryman? 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. Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, crying, Long live Hale, Caesar! Antony, the posture of your blows are yet unknown, but for your words they rob the Hyglobees and leave them honey-less. Not stingless, too. Oh, yes, and soundless, too. For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony, and very wisely threat before you sting. Villains, you did not so when your vile daggers hacked one another in the sides of Caesar. You showed your teeth like apes and fawned like hounds and bowed like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet whilst damned Casca, like a curb behind, shook Caesar on the neck. Oh, you flatterers! Flatterers? Now, Brutus, thank yourself. This tongue had not affected so today if Cassius might have ruled. Come, come the cause. If arguing makes us sweats, the proof of it will turn to redder drops. What do you think, that the sword goes up again? Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds be well avenged, or till another Caesar have added slaughter to the swords of traitors. Caesar, thou canst not die by Traitor's hands, unless thou brinks them with thee. I so hope, but I was not born to die on Brutus's sword. Oh, if thou worked the noblest of thy strain, young man, I would not die more honourable. A peavy schoolboy, worthless of such honour, joined with a masquer and a reveler. Old Cassius still. Come, Antony, away. Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. If you dare fight today, come to the field. If not, when you have stomachs. Exaunt Octavius, Antony and their army. Why now, blow wind, swell billow and swim, bark, storm is up and all is on the hazard. Oh, Lucilius, hark a word with you. Lucilius, standing forth. My lord. Brutus and Lucilius, converse apart. Masala. Masala, standing forth. What says my general? Masala, this is my birthday, as this very day was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Masala. Be thou my witness that against my will as Pompey was am I compelled to set upon one battle all our liberties. You know that I held Epicurus strong, and his opinion, now I change my mind and partly credit things that do presage. Coming from Sardis on our former ensign, two mighty eagles fell, and there they perched, gorging and feeding from our soldier's hands, who to Philippi here consulted us. This morning are they fled away and gone, and in their steds do ravens, they would 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 fresher spirit and resolve to meet all perils very constantly. Even so, Lucilius. Now, most noble Brutus. The gods today stand friendly, that we may, lovers in peace, lead on our days to age. Let the affairs of men rest still uncertain. Let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this battle, then this is the very last time we shall speak together. What are you then determined to do? Even by the rule of that philosophy by which I did blame Cato for the death which he did give himself, I know not how, but I do find it cowardly and vile for fear of what might fall, so to prevent the time of life. Arming myself with patience, stay the providence of some high powers that govern us below. Then if we lose this battle you are contented to be led in triumph through the streets of Rome. No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman, that ever Brutus will go bound to Rome. He bears to greater mind. But this same day must end that work the Ides of March begun. And whether we shall meet again, I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take. Forever and forever, farewell, Cassius. If we do meet again why we shall smile? If not, why then? This parting was well made. Forever and forever, farewell, Brutus. If we do meet again we'll smile indeed. If not, tis true this parting was well made. Why then, lead on. Oh, that a man might know the end of this day's business ere it come. But it sufficeth that the day will end, and then the end is known. Come, oh, away! Exeont Seen to, the same, the field of battle. Alarum, enter Brutus and Massala. Ride, ride, Massala, ride and give these bills unto the legions on the other side. Loud Alarum Let them set on at once, for I perceive but cold demeanour in Octavius' wing, and sudden push gives them the overthrow. Ride, ride, Massala, let them all come down. Exeont Seen three another part of the field. Alarums, enter Cassius and Detinius. Oh, look, Detinius, look, the villains fly. Myself have to my own turned enemy. This ensign here of mine was turning back. I slew the coward and did take it from him. Oh, 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. Enter Pindaris. Fly further off, my lord. Fly further off. Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord. Fly therefore, noble Cassius. Fly far off. This hill is far enough. Look, look, Detinius. They are my lord. Detinius, if thou lovest me, mount thou my horse and hide thy spurs in him till he have brought thee up to yonder troops and here again, that I may rest assured whether yonder troops are friend or enemy. I will be here again, even with a thought. Exit. Go, Pindaris, get higher on that hill. My sight was ever thick. Regard Detinius and tell me what thou notes about the field. Pindaris ascends the hill. This day I breathe first. My life is run his compass. Zero, what news? Pindaris, above. Oh, my lord. What news? Pindaris, above. Detinius is enclosed round about with horsemen that make to him on the spur. Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. Now Detinius, now some light. Oh, he lights too. He's tan. Shout. Come down. Behold no more. Oh, coward that I am to live so long to see my best friend tan before my face. Pindaris descends. Come here, the Sierra. In Pathia did I take the prisoner. And then I swore thee saving of thy life that whatsoever I did bid thee do thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thy note. Now be a free man, and with this good sword that ran through Caesar's bowels search this bosom. Stand not to answer. Here take thou the hilt and when my face is covered as tis now guide thou the sword. Pindaris stabs him. Caesar, thou art revenged even with the sword that killed thee. Dies. So I am free. Yet would not so have been, dursed I have done my will. For from this country Pindaris shall run where never Rome shall take note of him. Exit. Re-enter Titinius with Missala. It is but change, Titinius. For Octavius is overthrown by noble Brutus' power as Cassius' legions are by Anthony. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. Where did you leave him? All disconsolate with Pindaris' bondment on this hill. Is not that he that lies upon the ground? He lies not like the living. Oh, my heart! Is not that he? No, this was he, Missala. But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, his in thy red rays thou dost sing tonight. So in his red blood Cassius' day is set. The sun of Rome is set. Our day is gone. Clouds, do's, and dangers come. Our deeds are done. Misdressed of my life, I am free. I am free. Done. Misdressed of my success, have done this deed. Misdressed of good success, has done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy's child, why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men the things that are not? O error, soon conceived, thou never come as done to a happy birth, but kills the mother that engender thee. What? Pindaris? Where art thou, Pindaris? Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet the noble Brutus, casting this report into his ears. I may say, thrusting it, for piercing steel and darts and venom shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus as tidings of this sight. How you, messala, and I will seek for Pindaris the while. Exit, messala. Why did thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends? And did not they put on my prowess this wreath of victory, and bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything. Hold thee, take this garland on thy brow, thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I will do his bidding. Brutus, come a pace, and see how I regarded Cassius. By her leaf-guards, this is a Roman's part. Come, Cassius's heart, and find Titinius's heart! kills himself. Alarum, re-enter messala with Brutus, Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius. Where? Where, messala, doth his body lie? Low yonder, and Titinius mourning it. Titinius' face is upward. He is slain. O, Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet. Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords in our own proper entrails. Low Alarums Grave to Titinius. Look, whether he have not crowned dead Cassius. Are yet two Romans living such as these. The last of all the Romans. Fare thee well. It is impossible that ever Rome should breed thy fellow. Friends, I all more tears to this dead man than you shall see me pay. I shall find time, Cassius. I shall find time. Come, therefore, and to Thassos sent his body. His funerals shall not be in our camp, lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come, and come, young Cato. Let us to the field. Labio and Flavius set our battles on. Tis three o'clock, and Romans yet ere night, we shall try fortune in a second fight. Exeunt Scene Four Another part of the field. Alarum enter fighting soldiers of both armies, then Brutus, Cato, Lucilius, and others. Yet, countrymen, oh, yet, hold up your heads. What bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the field. I am the son of Marcus Cato. Ho! A photo tyrants and my country's friend. I am the son of Marcus Cato. Ho! And I am Brutus. Marcus Brutus I. Brutus my country's friend. Know me for Brutus. Exit O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius, and mayst be honoured being Cato's son. Yield, or thou dyest? Only I yield to die. There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight, kill Brutus, and be honoured in his death. Offering money We must not, a noble prisoner. Room, ho! Tell Anthony, Brutus is taken. I'll tell the news. Here comes the general. Enter Anthony. Brutus is taken. Brutus is taken, my lord. Where is he? Save, Anthony. Brutus is safe enough. I dare assure thee that no enemy shall ever take alive the noble Brutus. The gods defend him from so great a shame. When you do find him or alive or dead, he will be found like Brutus, like himself. This is not Brutus' friend, but I assure you, a prize no lesson worth. Keep this man safe. Give him all kindness. I'd rather have such men my friends and enemies. Go on, and see whether Brutus be alive or dead, and bring us word into Octavia's tent, how everything is chanced. Exeunt Scene five, another part of the field. Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato and Volumnius. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. Startillus showed the torchlight, but, my lord, he came not back. He is, or taken, or slain. Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word. It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. Whispers. What? I, my lord? No, not for all the world. Peace, then. No words. I'd rather kill myself. Hark thee, Dardanius. Whispers. Shall I do such a deed? Oh, Dardanius! Oh, Clitus. What ill requests did Brutus make to thee? To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. Now is that noble vessel full of grief that it runs over even at his eyes. Come hither, good Volumnius. List a word. What says, my lord? Why this, Volumnius? The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me two several times by night at Sardis once, and this last night here in Philippi Fields. I know my hour is come. 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. Lo alarm's. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, thou knowest that we two went to school together. Even for that our love of old, I prithee. Hold thou my sword-hills whilst I run on it. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. Alarm still. Fly, fly, my lord, there is no towering here. Farewell to you, and you, and you, Volumnius. Straeto, thou hast been all this while asleep, farewell to thee too, Straeto. 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 hath but laboured to attain this hour. Alarm, cry within, fly, fly, fly. Fly, my lord, fly. Hence I will follow. Exiant Cletus, Dardanius, and Volumnius. I prithee, Straeto. 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, Straeto? Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. Fare well, good Straeto. Runs on his sword. Ah! Caesar! Now, be still. I killed not thee, with half so good a will. Dies. Alarm, retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Massala, Lucilius, and the army. What man is that? My master's men. Straeto, where is thy master? Free from the bondage you are in, Massala. The conquerors can but make a fire of him, for Brutus only overcame himself, and no man else hath honour by his death. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, that thou hast proved Lucilius's saying true. All that serve Brutus, I will entertain them. Fellow, what thou bestower with our time with me? I, if Massala will prefer me to you. Do so good, Massala. How died my master, Straeto? I held the sword, and he did run on it. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, and make this service to my master. This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, same 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 mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world, this was a man. According to his virtue, let us use him, to protect and rights of burial. Within my tent his bones to night shall lay, most like a soldier, ordered honorably, so call the field to rest. Let's away, and part the glories of this happy day. Exeont. End of Act Five. End of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.