Trebonius.
Good even, Casca; brought you Cæsar home;* ^note
Why are you breathless, and why stare you so?

Casca.
Are you not mov'd, when all the sway of earth
Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Trebonius!
I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have seen
Th' ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam,
To be exalted with the threatning clouds:
But never till to-night, never 'till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire:
Either there is a civil strife in heav'n;
Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
Incenses them to send destruction.

Tre.
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 joined; and yet his hand,
Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
Besides, (I ha' not since put up my sword)
Against the capitol I met a lion,
Who glar'd upon me, and went surly by,
Without annoying me.
And yesterday, the bird of night did sit,
Ev'n at noon day, upon the market-place,
Houting and shrieking. When these prodigies
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say,
“That they are natural.”

For, I believe, they are portentous things
Unto the climate that they point upon.* ^note

Tre.
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 to meet him there, to-morrow.

Tre.
Good night then Casca, this disturbed sky
Is not to walk in.

Casca.
Farewel, Trebonius. [Exit Tre. 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;
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
Ev'n in the aim and very flash of it.

Casca.
But wherefore did you so much tempt the heav'ns?
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 heav'ns:

Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man,
Most like this dreadful night;† ^note
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 thewes 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 suff'rance shew 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.‡ ^note
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius.
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
&blquo;Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
&blquo;Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit:
But life being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
I can shake off, at pleasure.

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, oh 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 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.

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 enterprize,
Of honourable dang'rous consequence;
And I do know, by this they stay for me,
In Pompey's porch. Enter Cinna.

Casca.
Stand close a while, for here comes one in haste.

Cas.
'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait;
He is a friend. 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 staid for, Cinna?

Cin.
Yes, you are.
O Cassius! could you 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's 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 bid 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
Are ours already, and the man intire,
Upon the next encounter, yields him ours. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE, Brutus's Garden. Enter Brutus.

Bru.
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.

Luc.
Call'd you, my lord?

Bru.
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc.
I will, my lord. [Exit.

Bru.* ^note
It must be by his death: and, for my part,
I know no personal cause to spurn at him;
But for the general. He would be crown'd—
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking: crown him—that—
And then I grant we put a sting in him,

That at his will he may do danger with.
Th' abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd,
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof.
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,* ^note
Whereto the climber upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: so Cæsar 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, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell. Enter Lucius.

Luc.
The taper burneth in your closet, Sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found
This paper, thus seal'd up; and I am sure,
It did not lie there when I went to bed. [Gives him the letter.

Bru.
Get you to bed again, it is not day:† ^note
Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?

Luc.
I know not, Sir.

Bru.
Look in the kalendar, and bring me word.

Luc.
I will, Sir. [Exit.

Bru.
The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light that I may read by them. [Opens the letter, and reads.

Brutus, thou sleep'st, awake, and see thyself:‡ ^note
Shalt Rome—speak, strike, redress.
Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake.
Such instigations have been often dropt,
Where I have took them up:
Shall Rome—thus must I piece it out:
“Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? what! Rome?
“My ancestors did from the streets of Rome,
“The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.
Speak, strike, redress—Am I intreated then,
To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make the promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st
Thy full petition, at the hand of Brutus! Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. [knocks within.

Bru.
'Tis good, go to the gate; somebody knocks. [Exit Lucius.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,
I have not slept.—
Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection. Enter Lucius.

Luc.
Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,
Who doth desire to see you.

Bru.
Is he alone?

Luc.
No, Sir, there are more with him.

Bru.
Do you know them?

Luc.
No, Sir, their faces are buried in their robes:
That by no means I may discover them,
By any mark or favour.

Bru.
Let them enter. Exit Lucius.
They are the faction. O conspiracy!* ^note
Sham'st thou to shew thy dangerous brow by night,
When evils are most free? O then, by day
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough,
To mask thy monstrous visage; seek none, conspiracy,
Hide it in smiles and affability;
For if thou put thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough,
To hide thee from prevention. Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

Cas.
I think we are too bold upon your rest;
Good morrow, Brutus, do we trouble you?

Bru.
I have been up, this hour, awake all night,
Know I these men, that come along with you? [Aside.

Cas.
Yes, every man of them, and no man here,
But honours you, and every one doth wish,
You had but that opinion of yourself,
Which every noble Roman bears of you,
This is Trebonius.

Bru.
He is welcome hither.

Cas.
This is Decius Brutus.

Bru.
He is welcome, too.

Cas.
This Casca; this Cinna;
And this, Metellus Cimber.

Bru.
They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves,
Betwixt your eyes and night?

Cas.
Shall I intreat a word? [They whisper.

Dec.
Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?* ^note

Casca.
No.

Cin.
O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey lines,
That fret the clouds, are messengers of day.

Casca.
You shall confess, that you are both deceiv'd:
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises,
Which is a great way growing on the south,
Weighing the youthful season of the year.
Some two months hence, up higher toward the north,
He first presents his fire, and the high east
Stands as the capitol, directly here.

Bru.
Give me your hands all over, one by one.

Cas.
And let us swear our resolution.

Bru.
No, not an oath: if that the face of men,† ^note
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,—
If these be motives weak, break off, betimes;
And ev'ry man hence to his idle bed:
So let high-sighted tyranny range on,
'Till each man drop by lottery: but if these,
As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour
The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen,
What need we any spur, but our own cause,
To prick us to redress? what other bond,
Than secret Romans that have spoke the word,
And will not palter? and what other oath,
Than honesty to honesty engag'd,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it?

‡ ^noteSwear priests, and cowards, 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 enterprize,
Nor th' insuppressive metal of our spirits,
To think, that or our cause, or our performance,
Did need an oath. When ev'ry drop of blood,
That ev'ry Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a several bastardy,
If he doth break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath past from him?

Cas.
But what of Cicero? shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.

Casca.
Let us not leave him out.

Cin.
No, by no means.

Met.
O let us have him, for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion,
And buy mens voices to commend our deeds:
It shall be said, his judgment rul'd our hands;
Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.

Bru.
O, name him not, let us not break with him;
For he will never follow any thing,
That other men begin.

Cas.
Then leave him out.

Casca.
Indeed, he is not fit.

Dec.
Shall no man else be touch'd, but only Cæsar?

Cas.
Decius, well urg'd: I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Cæsar,
Should out-live Cæsar: 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 Cæsar fall together.

Bru.
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,

To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs;* ^note
Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards:
For Antony is but a limb of Cæsar.
Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius:
We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar,
And in the spirit of man there is no blood:
O, that we then could come by Cæsar's spirit,
And not dismember Cæsar! but alas!
Cæsar must bleed for it—And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds.
And, this shall make
Our purpose necessary, not envious:
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
For he can do no more than Cæsar's arm,
When Cæsar's head is off.

Cas.
Yet I do fear him;
For in th' ingrafted love he bears to Cæsar—

Bru.
Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
If he love Cæsar, all that he can do,
Is to himself, take thought, and die for Cæsar:
And that were much, he should; for he is giv'n
To sports, to wildness, and much company.

Tre.
There is no fear in him; let him not die;
For he will live and laugh at this, hereafter. [Clock strikes three.

Bru.
Peace, count the clock.

Tre.
'Tis time to part.

Cas.
The clock hath stricken three.

Casca.
But it is doubtful yet,
If Cæsar will come forth, to-day, or no:
For he is superstitious grown of late,
(Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies:)

It may be, these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the persuasion of his augurers,
May hold him from the capitol, to-day.

Dec.
Never fear that; if he be so resolv'd,
I can o'er-sway him: for he loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.
He says, he does; being then most flattered.* ^note
Leave me to work;
For I can give his humour the true bent;
And I will bring him to the capitol.

Cas.
Nay we will all of us be there to fetch him.

Bru.
By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost?

Cin.
Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Met.
Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;
I wonder none of you have thought of him.

Bru.
Now, good Metellus, go along to him;
He loves me well; and I have given him reasons:
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

Cas.
The morning comes upon's; we'll leave you, Brutus;
And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember
What you have said, and shew yourselves true Romans.

Bru.
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
Let not our looks put on our purposes;
But bear it as our Roman actors do,
With untir'd spirits, and formal constancy:
And so good-morrow to you every one. Exeunt. Manet Brutus† ^note
Boy! Lucius! fast asleep? it is no matter,
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. Enter Porcia.* ^note

Por.
Brutus, my lord!

Bru.
Porcia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now?
It is not for your health thus to commit
Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

Por.
Nor for your's, neither. You've ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed: and yesternight at supper,
You suddenly arose and walk'd about,
Musing and sighing, with your arms a cross;
And, when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You star'd upon me with ungentle looks.
Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not;
But with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave sign for me to leave you; so I did,
Fearing to strengthen that impatience,
Which seem'd too much inkindled; and, withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour;
Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep;
And could it work so much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

Bru.
I am not well in health, and that is all.

Por.
Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.

Bru.
Why so I do: good Porcia, go to bed.

Por.
What, is Brutus sick?
And will he steal out of his wholsome bed,

To dare the vile contagion of the night?
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air,
To add unto his sickness? no, my Brutus.
You have some sick 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 you are heavy, and what men, to-night,
Have had resort to you; for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces;
Even from darkness.

Bru.
Kneel not, gentle Porcia.

Por.
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus:
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? am I yourself,
But, as it were, in sort or limitation?
To keep with you at meals, consort your bed,
And talk to you, sometimes? dwell I but in the suburbs
Of your good pleasure? if it be no more,
Porcia is Brutus's harlot, not his wife:

Bru.
You are my true and honourable wife,
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops,
That visit my sad heart.

Por.
If this were true, then should I know this secret.
I grant, I am a woman; but withal,
A woman that lord Brutus took to wife:
I grant, I am a woman; but withal,
A woman well reputed; Cato's daughter.
Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
Being so father'd, and so husbanded?
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 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?

Bru.
O ye gods,
Render me worthy of this noble wife. [Knock.
Hark, hark, one knocks: Porcia, go in, a while;
And, by and by, thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart. [Exeunt. Scene SCENE changes to Cæsar's palace. Thunder and lightning. Enter Julius Cæsar.

Cæs.
Nor heav'n nor earth have been at peace, to-night,
Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cry'd out,
“Help, ho; they murder Cæsar.” Who's within? Enter a servant.

Ser.
My lord?

Cæs.
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice,
And bring me their opinions of success.

Ser.
I will, my lord. [Exit. Enter Calphurnia.

Cal.
What mean you, Cæsar? think you to walk forth?
You shall not stir out of your house, to-day.

Cæs.
Cæsar shall forth; the things that threaten'd me,
Ne'er look'd but on my back: when they shall see
The face of Cæsar, they are vanished.

Cal.
Cæsar, 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;
That graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead.
O Cæsar! these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.

Cæs.
What can be avoided
Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods?
Yet Cæsar shall go forth: for these predictions
Are to the world in general, as to Cæsar.

Cal.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heav'ns themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Cæs.
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.* ^note Enter a servant.
What says the augurs?

Ser.
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. [Exit servant.

Cæs.
The gods do this in shame of cowardice:
Cæsar should be a beast without a heart,
If he should stay at home to-day, for fear.
No, Cæsar shall not.

Cal.
Alas, my lord,
Your wisdom is consum'd 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 will say, you are not well, to-day:
Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.

Cæs.
Mark Antony shall say I am not well;
And for thy humour I will stay at home, Enter Decius.
Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.

Dec.
Cæsar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Cæsar;
I come to fetch you to the senate-house.

Cæs.
And you are come in very happy time,
To bear my greeting to the senators,
And tell them that I will not come, to-day:
Cannot, is false; and that I dare not, falser;
I will not come, to-day; tell them so, Decius.

Cal.
Say he is sick.

Cæs.
Shall Cæsar send a lye?
Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
To be afraid to tell grey-beards the truth?
Decius, go, tell them, Cæsar will not come;

Dec.
Most mighty Cæsar, let me know some cause,
Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so.

Cæs.
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.
Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:
She dreamt, last night, she saw my statue,
Which, like a fountain, with an hundred spouts,
Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans
Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it.
These she applies for warnings and portents,
And evils imminent; and on her knee
Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home, to-day.

Dec.
This dream is all amiss interpreted;
It was a vision fair and fortunate:
Your statue, spouting blood in many pipes,
Wherein so many smiling Romans bath'd,
Signifies, that from you great Rome shall suck
Reviving blood; and that great men shall press
For tinctures, stains, relicks, and cognisance.
This by Calphurnia's dream is signify'd.

Cæs.
And this way have you well expounded it.

Dec.* ^note
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 Cæsar.
If you shall send them word you will not come,
Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock
Apt to be render'd, for some one to say,
“Break up the senate 'till another time,
“When Cæsar's wife shall meet with better dreams.”
If Cæsar hide himself, shall they not whisper,

“Lo! Cæsar is afraid!”
Pardon me, Cæsar, for my dear, dear love
To your proceeding, bids me tell you this:
And reason to my love is liable.

Cæs.
How foolish do your fears seem, now, Calphurnia!
I am ashamed I did yield to them.
I will go: Enter Metellus, Casca, Trebonius, and Cinna.
And look where Trebonius comes to fetch me.

Pub.
Good-morrow, Cæsar.

Cæs.
Welcome, good Trebonius, welcome,
What is't o'clock?

Tre.
Cæsar, 'tis strucken eight.

Cæs.
I thank you for your pains and courtesy. Enter Antony.
See Antony, that revels long a'nights,
Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony.

Ant.
So to most noble Cæsar.

Cæs.
Bid them prepare within:
I am to blame to be thus waited for.
Trebonius! I have an hour's talk in store for you.
Remember, that you call on me, to-day;
Be near me, that I may remember you.

Tre.
Cæsar, I will;—and so near will I be, [Aside.
That your best friends shall wish I had been further.

Cæs.
Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me,
And we, like friends, will straitway go together.

Bru.
That every like is not the same, O Cæsar;* ^note

^note

Previous section

Next section