« AnteriorContinua »
best friends shall wish I had been further. Cæs. Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with
me, And we, like friends, will straightway go together.
Enter Portia and LUCIUS.
Por. I pr’ythee, boy, run to the senate-house;
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone-
Why dost thou stay?
Luc. To know my errand, madam.
Por. I would have had thee there, and here again,
Ere I can tell thee what thou should'st do there-
O, constancy, be strong upon my side,
Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue;
I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. —
Art thou here yet?
Luc. Madam, what shall I do?
Run to the capitol, and nothing else?
And so return to you, and nothing else?
Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
For he went sickly forth ; and take good note,
What Cæsar doth, what suitors press to him.
Hark! boy, what noise that?
Luc. I hear none, Madam.
Por. Pr’ythee, listen well:
I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray;
And the wind brings it from the capitol.
Luc. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
Por, Come hither, fellow; which way hast thou
Art. At mine own house, good lady.
Por. What is't o'clock?
Art. About the ninth hour, lady.
Por. Is Cæsar yet gone to the capitol?
Art. Madam, not yet;-1 go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the capitol.
Por. Thou hast some suit to Cæsar, hast thou not?
Art. That I have, lady, if it will please Cæsar To be so good to Cæsar, as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself. Por. Why, know'st thou any harm intended tow'rds
him? Art. None that I know will be, much that I fear. Good morrow to you.
Por. I must go in -Ah me! how weak a thing
The heart of woman is!-O Brutus! Brutus !
The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise !
Sure, the boy heard me- -Brutus hath a suit,
That Cæsar will not grant.-0, I grow
Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord;
Say, I am merry;-come to me again,
And bring me word what he doth say to thee.
The Capitol.–SENATORS seated. Flourish.-CÆSAR, BRUTUS, Cassius, CASCA,Decius,
METELLUS, TREBONIUS, CINNA, and ANTONY, discovered. Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look you,
He draws Mark Antony out of his way.
(Exeunt ANTON Y and TREBONIUS. 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.
Cæs. Are we all ready? what is now amiss,
That Cæsar and his senate must redress?
Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
An humble heart.
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 court’sies, and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished;
If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
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:
They are all fire, and every one doth shine ;
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. Then fall, Cæsar!
[Dies. Bru. 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.
Cas. Where is Antony ?
Tre. Fled to his house, amaz’d.
Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run,
As it were doom'sday,
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.
Cas. 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.
Now walk we forth, e'en to the market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, Peace! freedom! and 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.
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; [Kneeling.
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say.
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
Cæsar was mighty, royal, bold, 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 descrv'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 satisfy’d; and, by my honour,
Sero. I'll fetch him presently. [Exit SERVANT.
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.
Bru. But here he comes. 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,