The Same. A Street. |
| |
Thunder and lightning. Enter, from opposite sides, CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO. |
| Cic. Good even, Casca: brought you Cæsar home? |
| Why are you breathless? and why stare you so? |
| Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway of earth |
| Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero! |
| I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds |
| Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have seen |
| The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, |
| To be exalted with the threat'ning 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 destruction. |
| Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderful? |
| Casca. A common slave—you know him well by sight— |
| Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn |
| Like twenty torches join'd; and yet his hand, |
| Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd. |
| Besides,—I have not since put up my sword,— |
| Against the Capitol I met a lion, |
| Who glar'd 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 noon-day, 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 portentous things |
| Unto the climate that they point upon. |
| Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: |
| But men may construe things after their fashion, |
| Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. |
| Comes Cæsar to the Capitol to-morrow? |
| Casca. He doth; for he did bid Antonius |
| Send word to you he would be there to-morrow. |
| Cic. Good-night then, Casca: this disturbed sky |
| Is not to walk in. |
| Casca. Farewell, Cicero. [Exit CICERO. |
| |
Enter CASSIUS. |
| Cas. Who's there? |
| Casca. A Roman. |
| Cas. Casca, by your voice. |
| Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! |
| Cas. A very pleasing night to honest men. |
| Casca. Who ever knew the heavens menace so? |
| Cas. Those that have known the earth so full of faults. |
| For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, |
| Submitting me unto the perilous night, |
| And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, |
| Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone; |
| And, when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open |
| The breast of heaven, I did present myself |
| Even in the aim and very flash of it. |
| Casca. But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? |
| It is the part of men to fear and tremble |
| When the most mighty gods by tokens send |
| Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. |
| Cas. You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life |
| That should be in a Roman you do want, |
| Or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze, |
| And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder, |
| To see the strange impatience of the heavens; |
| But if you would consider the true cause |
| Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, |
| Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind; |
| Why old men, fools, and children calculate; |
| Why all these things change from their ordinance, |
| Their natures, and pre-formed faculties, |
| To monstrous quality, why, you shall find |
| That heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits |
| To make them instruments of fear and warning |
| Unto some monstrous state. |
| Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man |
| Most like this dreadful night, |
| That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars |
| As doth the lion in the Capitol, |
| A man no mightier than thyself or me |
| In personal action, yet prodigious grown |
| And fearful as these strange eruptions are. |
| Casca. 'Tis Cæsar that you mean; is it not, Cassius? |
| Cas. Let it be who it is: for Romans now |
| Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors; |
| But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead, |
| And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; |
| Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. |
| Casca. Indeed, they say the senators to-morrow |
| Mean to establish Cæsar as a king; |
| And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, |
| In every place, save here in Italy. |
| Cas. 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 those worldly bars, |
| Never lacks power to dismiss itself. |
| If I know this, know all the world besides, |
| That part of tyranny that I do bear |
| I can shake off at pleasure. [Thunder still. |
| Casca. So can I: |
| So every bondman in his own hand bears |
| The power to cancel his captivity. |
| Cas. And why should Cæsar be a tyrant then? |
| Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf |
| But that he sees the Romans are but sheep; |
| He were no lion were not Romans hinds. |
| Those that with haste will make a mighty fire |
| Begin it with weak straws; what trash is Rome, |
| What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves |
| For the base matter to illuminate |
| So vile a thing as Cæsar! But, O grief! |
| Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this |
| Before a willing bondman; then I know |
| My answer must be made: but I am arm'd, |
| And dangers are to me indifferent. |
| Casca. You speak to Casca, and to such a man |
| That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand: |
| Be factious for redress of all these griefs, |
| And I will set this foot of mine as far |
| As who goes furthest. |
| Cas. There's a bargain made. |
| Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already |
| Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans |
| To undergo with me an enterprise |
| Of honourable-dangerous consequence; |
| And I do know by this they stay for me |
| In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night, |
| There is no stir, or walking in the streets; |
| And the complexion of the element |
| In favour's like the work we have in hand, |
| Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. |
| Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. |
| Cas. 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait: |
| He is a friend. |
| |
Enter CINNA. |
| Cinna, where haste you so? |
| Cin. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber? |
| Cas. No, it is Casca; one incorporate |
| To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna? |
| Cin. I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this! |
| There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. |
| Cas. Am I not stay'd for? Tell me. |
| Cin. Yes, you are. |
| O Cassius! if you could |
| But win the noble Brutus to our party— |
| Cas. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, |
| And look you lay it in the prætor's chair, |
| Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this |
| In at his window; set this up with wax |
| Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done, |
| Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. |
| Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? |
| Cin. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone |
| To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, |
| And so bestow these papers as you bade me. |
| Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. [Exit CINNA. |
| Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day |
| See Brutus at his house: three parts of him |
| Is ours already, and the man entire |
| Upon the next encounter yields him ours. |
| Casca. O! he sits high in all the people's hearts: |
| And that which would appear offence in us, |
| His countenance, like richest alchemy, |
| Will change to virtue and to worthiness. |
| Cas. Him and his worth and our great need of him |
| You have right well conceited. Let us go, |
| For it is after midnight; and ere day |
| We will awake him and be sure of him. [Exeunt. |
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