The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare/Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso/shakes/text/33/02_01

Text File | 1991-04-10 | 16KB | 470 lines

Rome. The Home of Brutus.
 Enter BRUTUS in his orchard.

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!

                              Enter LUCIUS.

Lucius    Called 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,
    I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
    But for the general: he would be crowned.
    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, so to speak truth of Caesar,
    I have not known when his affections swayed
    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,
    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,
    Would run to these and these extremities;
    And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
    Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous,
    And kill him in the shell.

                             Re-enter LUCIUS.

Lucius    The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
    Searching the window for a flint, I found
    This paper, thus sealed up; and I am sure
    It did not lie there when I went to bed.
                                                    [He gives him the letter.

Brutus    Get you to bed again; it is not day.
    Is not tomorrow, boy, the ides of March?

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.
                                            [He opens the letter and reads.

        "Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake, and see thyself.
        Shall Rome, etc. Speak, strike, redress."

    "Brutus, thou sleep'st; awake."
    Such instigations have been often dropped
    Where I have took them up.
    "Shall Rome, etc." 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 called 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 fifteen days.
                                                    [Knock 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 more with him.

Brutus                                            Do you know them?

Lucius    No, sir, their hats are plucked 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,
    Sham'st 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, CINNA,
                         METELLUS, 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 apart.

Decius    He lies the east; doth not the day break here?

Casca    No.

Cinna    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 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,
    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 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 th' 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 passed 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    O let us have him; for his silver hairs
    Will purchase a good opinion,
    And buy men's voices to commend our deeds.
    It shall be said, his judgement 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 anything
    That other men begin.

Cassius                                Then leave him out.

Casca    Indeed, he is not fit.

Decius    Shall no man else be touched 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 called purgers, 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 today 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 unaccustomed terror of this night,
    And the persuasion of his augurers,
    May hold him from the Capitol today.

Decius    Never fear that. If he be so resolved
    I can o'ersway him, for he loves to hear
    That unicorns may be betrayed 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 flatterd.
    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    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, fiends, 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 walked about,
    Musing and sighing, with your arms across;
    And when I asked you what the matter was,
    You stared upon me with ungentle looks.
    I urged you further; then you scratched your head,
    And too impatiently stamped with your foot.
    Yet I insisted, yet you answered 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 seemed 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 prevailed 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 unbracd 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 unpurgd 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;
                                                    [She kneels.
                                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, your self, your half,
    Why you are heavy, and what men tonight
    Have had 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    [Rising.] 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 I 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 I should 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 fathered 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 with a kerchief about his head.

Lucius    Here is a sick man that would speak with you.

Brutus    Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.
    Boy, stand aside.
                                                    [Exit LUCIUS.
    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 of 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.
                                                    [Removing the kerchief.
                                    Soul of Rome!
    Brave son, derived from honourable loins;
    Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up
    My mortifid 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 we must 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.
                                                    [Thunder.
Brutus                                    Follow me then.
                                                    [Exeunt.