Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above. |
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A crowd of People; among them ARTEMIDORUS and the Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CÆSAR, BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, METELLUS, TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POPILIUS, PUBLIUS, and Others. |
Cæs. [To the Soothsayer.] The ides of March are come. |
Sooth. Ay, Cæsar; but not gone. |
Art. Hail, Cæsar! Read this schedule. |
Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read, |
At your best leisure, this his humble suit. |
Art. O Cæsar! read mine first; for mine's a suit |
That touches Cæsar nearer. Read it, great Cæsar. |
Cæs. What touches us ourself shall be last serv'd. |
Art. Delay not, Cæsar; read it instantly. |
Cæs. What! is the fellow mad? |
Pub. Sirrah, give place. |
Cæs. What! urge you your petitions in the street? |
Come to the Capitol. |
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CÆSAR goes up to the Senate-House, the rest following. All the Senators rise. |
Pop. I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive. |
Cas. What enterprise, Popilius? |
Pop. Fare you well. [Advances to CÆSAR. |
Bru. What said Popilius Lena? |
Cas. He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive. |
I fear our purpose is discovered. |
Bru. Look, how he makes to Cæsar: mark him. |
Cas. Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention. |
Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, |
Cassius or Cæsar never shall turn back, |
For I will slay myself. |
Bru. Cassius, be constant: |
Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; |
For, look, he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change. |
Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus, |
He draws Mark Antony out of the way. [Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS. CÆSAR and the Senators take their seats. |
Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, |
And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar. |
Bru. He is address'd; press near and second him. |
Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. |
Casca. Are we all ready? What is now amiss, |
That Cæsar and his senate must redress? |
Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Cæsar, |
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat |
A humble heart,— [Kneeling. |
Cæs. I must prevent thee, Cimber. |
These couchings and these lowly courtesies, |
Might fire the blood of ordinary men, |
And turn pre-ordinance and first decree |
Into the law of children. Be not fond, |
To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood |
That will be thaw'd from the true quality |
With that which melteth fools; I mean sweet words, |
Low-crooked curtsies, and base spaniel fawning. |
Thy brother by decree is banished: |
If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, |
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. |
Know, Cæsar doth not wrong, nor without cause |
Will he be satisfied. |
Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own, |
To sound more sweetly in great Cæsar's ear |
For the repealing of my banish'd brother? |
Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæsar; |
Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may |
Have an immediate freedom of repeal. |
Cæs. What, Brutus! |
Cas. Pardon, Cæsar; Cæsar, pardon: |
As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, |
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. |
Cæs. I could be well mov'd if I were as you; |
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me; |
But I am constant as the northern star, |
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality |
There is no fellow in the firmament. |
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, |
They are all fire and every one doth shine, |
But there's but one in all doth hold his place: |
So, in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men, |
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; |
Yet in the number I do know but one |
That unassailable holds on his rank, |
Unshak'd of motion: and that I am he, |
Let me a little show it, even in this, |
That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, |
And constant do remain to keep him so. |
Cin. O Cæsar,— |
Cæs. Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus! |
Dec. Great Cæsar,— |
Cæs. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? |
Casca. Speak, hands, for me! [They stab Cæsar. |
Cæs. Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Cæsar! [Dies. |
Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! |
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. |
Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, |
'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!' |
Bru. People and senators be not affrighted; |
Fly not; stand still; ambition's debt is paid. |
Casca. Go to the pulpit, Brutus. |
Dec. And Cassius too. |
Bru. Where's Publius? |
Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. |
Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend of Cæsar's |
Should chance— |
Bru. Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer; |
There is no harm intended to your person, |
Nor to no Roman else; so tell them, Publius. |
Cas. And leave us, Publius; lest that the people, |
Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. |
Bru. Do so; and let no man abide this deed |
But we the doers. |
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Re-enter TREBONIUS. |
Cas. Where's Antony? |
Tre. Fled to his house amaz'd. |
Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run |
As it were doomsday. |
Bru. Fates, we will know your pleasures. |
That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time |
And drawing days out, that men stand upon. |
Casca. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life |
Cuts off so many years of fearing death. |
Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit: |
So are we Cæsar's friends, that have abridg'd |
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, |
And let us bathe our hands in Cæsar's blood |
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: |
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place; |
And waving our red weapons o'er our heads, |
Let's all cry, 'Peace, freedom, and liberty!' |
Cas. Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence |
Shall this our lofty scene be acted o'er, |
In states unborn and accents yet unknown! |
Bru. How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport, |
That now on Pompey's basis lies along |
No worthier than the dust! |
Cas. So oft as that shall be, |
So often shall the knot of us be call'd |
The men that gave their country liberty. |
Dec. What! shall we forth? |
Cas. Ay, every man away: |
Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels |
With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. |
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Enter a Servant. |
Bru. Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's. |
Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel; |
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; |
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: |
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; |
Cæsar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving: |
Say I love Brutus, and I honour him; |
Say I fear'd Cæsar, honour'd him, and lov'd him. |
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony |
May safely come to him, and be resolv'd |
How Cæsar hath deserv'd to lie in death, |
Mark Antony shall not love Cæsar dead |
So well as Brutus living; but will follow |
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus |
Thorough the hazards of this untrod state |
With all true faith. So says my master Antony. |
Bru. 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 untouch'd. |
Serv. I'll fetch him presently. [Exit. |
Bru. I know that we shall have him well to friend. |
Cas. I wish we may: but yet have I a mind |
That fears him much; and my misgiving still |
Falls shrewdly to the purpose. |
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Re-enter ANTONY. |
Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. |
Ant. O mighty Cæsar! dost thou lie so low? |
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, |
Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. |
I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, |
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: |
If I myself, there is no hour so fit |
As Cæsar's death's hour, nor no instrument |
Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich |
With the most noble blood of all this world. |
I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard, |
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, |
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, |
I shall not find myself so apt to die: |
No place will please me so, no mean of death, |
As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off, |
The choice and master spirits of this age. |
Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us. |
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, |
As, by our hands and this our present act, |
You see we do, yet see you but our hands |
And this the bleeding business they have done: |
Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; |
And pity to the general wrong of Rome— |
As fire drives out fire, so pity pity— |
Hath done this deed on Cæsar. For your part, |
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony; |
Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts |
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in |
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. |
Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's |
In the disposing of new dignities. |
Bru. Only be patient till we have appeas'd |
The multitude, beside themselves with fear, |
And then we will deliver you the cause |
Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him, |
Have thus proceeded. |
Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom. |
Let each man render me his bloody hand: |
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; |
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand; |
Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus; |
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours; |
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius. |
Gentlemen all,—alas! what shall I say? |
My credit now stands on such slippery ground, |
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, |
Either a coward or a flatterer. |
That I did love thee, Cæsar, O! 'tis true: |
If then thy spirit look upon us now, |
Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death, |
To see thy Antony making his peace, |
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, |
Most noble! in the presence of thy corse? |
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 wast thou bay'd, brave hart; |
Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand, |
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy leth |
O world! thou wast the forest to this hart; |
And this, indeed, O world! the heart of thee. |
How like a deer, strucken by many princes, |
Dost thou here lie! |
Cas. Mark Antony,— |
Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius: |
The enemies of Cæsar shall say this; |
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. |
Cas. I blame you not for praising Cæsar so; |
But what compact mean you to have with us? |
Will you be prick'd in number of our friends, |
Or shall we on, and not depend on you? |
Ant. Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed |
Sway'd from the point by looking down on Cæsar. |
Friends am I with you all, and love you all, |
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons |
Why and wherein Cæsar was dangerous. |
Bru. Or else were this a savage spectacle. |
Our reasons are so full of good regard |
That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar, |
You should be satisfied. |
Ant. That's all I seek: |
And am moreover suitor that I may |
Produce his body to the market place; |
And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, |
Speak in the order of his funeral. |
Bru. You shall, Mark Antony. |
Cas. Brutus, a word with you. |
[Aside to BRUTUS.] You know not what you do; do not consent |
That Antony speak in his funeral: |
Know you how much the people may be mov'd |
By that which he will utter? |
Bru. By your pardon; |
I will myself into the pulpit first, |
And show the reason of our Cæsar's death: |
What Antony shall speak, I will protest |
He speaks by leave and by permission, |
And that we are contented Cæsar shall |
Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. |
It shall advantage more than do us wrong. |
Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not. |
Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Cæsar's body. |
You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, |
But speak all good you can devise of Cæsar, |
And say you do 't by our permission; |
Else shall you not have any hand at all |
About his funeral; and you shall speak |
In the same pulpit whereto I am going, |
After my speech is ended. |
Ant. Be it so; |
I do desire no more. |
Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us. [Exeunt all but ANTONY. |
Ant. 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 their 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, |
And dreadful objects so familiar, |
That mothers shall but smile when they behold |
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; |
All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds: |
And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge, |
With Ate by his side come hot from hell, |
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice |
Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war; |
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth |
With carrion men, groaning for burial. |
|
Enter a Servant. |
You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not? |
Serv. I do, Mark Antony. |
Ant. Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome. |
Serv. He did receive his letters, and is coming; |
And bid me say to you by word of mouth— [Seeing the body. |
O Cæsar!— |
Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. |
Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, |
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, |
Began to water. Is thy master coming? |
Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome. |
Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanc'd: |
Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, |
No Rome of safety for Octavius yet; |
Hie hence and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile; |
Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corpse |
Into the market-place; there shall I try, |
In my oration, how 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. [Exeunt, with CÆSAR'S body. |
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