ACT II SCENE I | Rome. BRUTUS's orchard. | |
| Enter BRUTUS. | |
BRUTUS | 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! | 5 | |
| Enter LUCIUS. | |
LUCIUS | Call'd you, my lord? | |
BRUTUS | Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: | |
| When it is lighted, come and call me here. | |
LUCIUS | I will, my lord. |
| Exit | |
BRUTUS | It must be by his death: and for my part, | 10 | |
| 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;-- | 15 | |
| And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, | |
| That at his will he may do danger with. | |
| The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins | |
| Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar, |
| I have not known when his affections sway'd | 20 | |
| More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof, | |
| That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, | |
| Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; | |
| But when he once attains the upmost round.
|
| He then unto the ladder turns his back, | 25 | |
| Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees | |
| By which he did ascend. So Caesar 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, | 30 | |
| 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. |
| Re-enter LUCIUS. | |
LUCIUS | The taper burneth in your closet, sir. | 35 | |
| 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. | |
BRUTUS | Get you to bed again; it is not day. |
| Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? | 40 | |
LUCIUS | I know not, sir. | |
BRUTUS | Look in the calendar, and bring me word. | |
LUCIUS | I will, sir. | |
| Exit | |
BRUTUS | The exhalations whizzing in the air |
| Give so much light that I may read by them. | 45 | |
| 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. | 50 | |
| 'Shall Rome, &c.' 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 entreated | 55 | |
| 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, | 61 | |
| 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: | 65 | |
| 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, | 70 | |
| 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 | 75 | |
| 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 | 80 | |
| 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. | 85 | |
| 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 | 90 | |
| 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? | 99 |
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. | 105 | |
| 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 | 110 | |
| 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,-- | 115 | |
| 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 | 120 | |
| 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, | 125 | |
| 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 | 130 | |
| 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 | 135 | |
| 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. | 140 | |
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 | 145 | |
| 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 | 151 | |
| 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, | 160 | |
| 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, | 170 | |
| 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, | 175 | |
| 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 purgers, not murderers. | 180 | |
| 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: | 185 | |
| 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; | 190 | |
| 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, | 195 | |
| 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, | 200 | |
| 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, | 205 | |
| 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, | 210 | |
| 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, | 215 | |
| 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. | 220 | |
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, | 225 | |
| 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: | 230 | |
| 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 | 235 | |
| 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, | 240 | |
| 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, | 245 | |
| 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, | 250 | |
| 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, | 255 | |
| 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. | 260 | |
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 | 265 | |
| 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, | 270 | |
| 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 | 275 | |
| 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, | 280 | |
| 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 | 285 | |
| 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 | 290 | |
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. | 295 | |
| 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 | 300 | |
| 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 | 305 | |
| 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? | 309 | |
| Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS. | |
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, | 320 |
| 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 | 330 |
| 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. | 335 |
BRUTUS | Follow me, then. | |
| Exeunt | |