The Tarquin drive, when he was call’d a king.
‘speak, strike, redress!’ Am I entreated
To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise:
If the redress will follow, thou receivest
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!
Re-enter Lucius
Lucius
Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.
Knocking within
Brutus
’Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks.
Exit Lucius
Since Cassius first did whet 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 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.
Re-enter Lucius
Lucius
Sir, ’tis your brother Cassius at the door,
Who doth desire to see you.
Brutus
Is he alone?
Lucius
No, sir, there are moe with him.
Brutus
Do you know them?
Lucius
No, sir; their hats are pluck’d about their ears,
And half their faces buried in their cloaks,
That by no means I may discover them
By any mark of favour.
Brutus
Let ’em enter.
Exit Lucius
They are the faction. O conspiracy,
Shamest 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 none, 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, Cinna, Metellus Cimber, and Trebonius
Cassius
I think we are too bold upon your rest:
Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?
Brutus
I have been up this hour, awake all night.
Know I these men that come along with you?
Cassius
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.
Brutus
He is welcome hither.
Cassius
This, Decius Brutus.
Brutus
He is welcome too.
Cassius
This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.
Brutus
They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?
Cassius
Shall I entreat a word?
Brutus and Cassius whisper
Decius Brutus
Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?
Casca
No.
Cinna
O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines
That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
Casca
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 Capitol, directly here.
Brutus
Give me your hands all over, one by one.
Cassius
And let us swear our resolution.
Brutus
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 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,
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 engaged,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous,
Old feeble carrions 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 mettle 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 pass’d from him.
Cassius
But what of Cicero? shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.
Casca
Let us not leave him out.
Cinna
No, by no means.
Metellus Cimber
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 ruled our hands;
Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.
Brutus
O, name him not: let us not break with him;
For he will never follow any thing
That other men begin.
Cassius
Then leave him out.
Casca
Indeed he is not fit.
Decius Brutus
Shall no man else be touch’d but only Caesar?
Cassius
Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well beloved 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.
Brutus
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
To cut the head off and then hack the limbs,
Like wrath in death and envy afterwards;
For Antony is but a limb of Caesar:
Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O, 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 wrathfully;
Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds:
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,
Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
And after seem to chide ’em. This shall make
Our purpose necessary and not envious:
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call’d purger
s, 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.
Cassius
Yet I fear him;
For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar —
Brutus
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 were much he should; for he is given
To sports, to wildness and much company.
Trebonius
There is no fear in him; let him not die;
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
Clock strikes
Brutus
Peace! count the clock.
Cassius
The clock hath stricken three.
Trebonius
’Tis time to part.
Cassius
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
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.
Decius Brutus
Never fear that: if he be so resolved,
I can o’ersway 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;
But when I tell 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 Capitol.
Cassius
Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Brutus
By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?
Cinna
Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.
Metellus Cimber
Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:
I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Brutus
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.
Cassius
The morning comes upon ’s: we’ll leave you, Brutus.
And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember
What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.
Brutus
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
Let 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.
Exeunt 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 sleep’st so sound.
Enter Portia
Portia
Brutus, my lord!
Brutus
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.
Portia
Nor for yours 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 across,
And when I ask’d you what the matter was,
You stared upon me with ungentle looks;
I urged you further; then you scratch’d your head,
And too impatiently stamp’d with your foot;
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 enkindled, 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.
Brutus
I am not well in health, and that is all.
Portia
Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
Brutus
Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
Portia
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 to resort to you: for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.
Brutus
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Portia
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, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs
Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus’ harlot, not his wife.
Brutus
You are my true and honourable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart
Portia
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 ’em:
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?
Brutus
O ye gods,
Render me worthy of this noble wife!
Knocking within
Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile;
And by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart.
All my engagements I will construe to thee,
All the charactery of my sad brows:
Leave me with haste.
Exit Portia
Lucius, who’s that knocks?
Re-enter Lucius with Ligarius
&nbs
p; Lucius
He is a sick man that would speak with you.
Brutus
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?
Ligarius
Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.
Brutus
O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!
Ligarius
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.
Brutus
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
Ligarius
By all the gods that Romans bow before,
I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome!
Brave son, derived from honourable loins!
Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured 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?
Brutus
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
Ligarius
But are not some whole that we must make sick?
Brutus
That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going
To whom it must be done.
Ligarius
Set on your foot,
And with a heart new-fired I follow you,
To do I know not what: but it sufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.
Brutus
Follow me, then.
Exeunt
SCENE II. CAESAR’S HOUSE.
Thunder and lightning. Enter Caesar, in his night-gown
Caesar
Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night:
Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out,
‘Help, ho! they murder Caesar!’ Who’s within?
Enter a Servant
Servant
My lord?
Caesar
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice
And bring me their opinions of success.
Servant
I will, my lord.
Exit
Enter Calpurnia
Calpurnia
What mean you, Caesar? think you to walk forth?
You shall not stir out of your house to-day.
Caesar
Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten’d me
Ne’er look’d but on my back; when they shall see
The face of Caesar, they are vanished.
Calpurnia
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 yawn’d, 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 Capitol;
The noise of battle hurtled in the air,