Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this? Cas. A very pleasing night to honest men. For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, 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, nance, Their natures, and pre-formed faculties, A man no mightier than thyself, or me, 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 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 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 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! Casca. You speak to Casca, and to such a man, 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-dangerous consequence; And I do know, by this, they stay for me In Pompey's porch: For now, this fearful night, There is no stir, or walking in the streets; And the complexion of the element Is favour'd, like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. 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 alchymy, You have right well conceited. Let us go, [Exeunt. ACT II. That ; And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, I have not known when his affections sway'd Will bear no colour for the thing he is, And kill him in the shell. Re-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. Bru. Get you to bed again, it is not day. Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? Luc. I know not, sir. Bru. Look in the calendar, 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. Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress! Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake,Such instigations have been often dropp'd Where I have took them up. Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out; My ancestors did from the streets of Rome promise, If the redress will follow, thou receivest Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus ! Re-enter LUCIUS. Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. [Knock 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 Re-enter LUCIUS. Bru. No, not an oath: If not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse, Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, If these be motives weak, break off betimes, Who doth desire to see you. Bru. Is he alone? Luc. No, sir, there are more with him. Luc. No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks, [Exit Lucius. Bru. Let them enter. When evils are most free? O, then, by day, Hide it in smiles, and affability: For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Enter CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, CINNA, ME- 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? Cas. Yes, every man of them; and no man here, But honours you: and every one doth wish, Bru. He is welcome hither. Cas. This 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 entreat a word? [They whisper. Dec. Here lies the east: Doth not the day break here? 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; He first presents his fire; and the high east Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one. And every man hence to his idle bed; Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, 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 men's 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 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 outlive 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 To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs; Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Cas. Yet I do fear him: For in the 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 given To sports, to wildness, and much company. Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. Bru. Peace, count the clock. Cas. But it is doubtful yet, Whe'r Cæsar will come forth to-day, or no: For I can give his humour the true bent; 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 by 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 us: We'll leave you, Brutus :— And, friends, disperse yourselves: but all remember What you have said, and show 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, Enter PORTIA. Por. Brutus, my lord! Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health, thus to commit gently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: And yesternight, at supper, And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: 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 Portia, go to bed. Por. Is Brutus sick? and is it physical To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick; And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, To dare the vile contagion of the night? And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; You have some sick 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 Portia. Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Bru. You are my true and honourable wife; Por. If this were true, then should I know I grant, I am a woman; but, withal, I grant, I am a woman: but, withal, A woman well-reputed; Cato's daughter. Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them: | And bring me their opinions of success. I have made strong proof of my constancy, Here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with patience, Bru. O ye gods, with you. Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside.-Caius Ligarius! how? Lig. Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue. Bru. O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not sick! Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour. Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. Lig. By all the gods, that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! Brave son, deriv'd from honourable loins! Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur'd up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible; Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? Bru. A piece of work, that will make sick men whole. Lig. But are not some whole, that we must make sick? Serv. I will, my lord. Enter CALPHURNIA. [Exit. Cal. What mean you, Cæsar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day. Cas. 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, Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, Cas. What can be avoided, Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens 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 memost strange, that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come. Re-enter a Servant. Bru. That must we also. What it is, my Caius, What say the augurers? |