Julius Caesar Page #7

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Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?

Come, away!

We'll burn his body in the holy place!

Now let it work.

Mischief, thou art afoot,

Take thou what course thou wilt!

- How now, fellow!

- Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.

- Where is he now?

- He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.

He comes upon a wish.

Fortune is merry,

and in this mood will give us any thing.

I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.

Belike they had some notice of the people,

How I had moved them.

Let's go to Brutus to Cassius!

Burn all!

Away!

Go.

These many, then, shall die?

Their names are prick'd.

Your brother too must die.

Consent you, Lepidus?

I do consent--

Prick him down, Antony.

Upon condition Publius shall not live,

Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony.

He shall not live.

Look,

with a spot I damn him.

Brutus and Cassius are levying powers.

We must straight make head.

Therefore let our alliance be combined, our best friends made, our means stretch'd

and let us presently go sit in council.

Let us do so.

For we are at the stake, and bay'd about with many enemies.

And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.

Lepidus, go you fetch Caesar's will

hither, we shall determine how to cut off some charge in legacies.

What, shall I find you here?

Or here, or at the Capitol.

This is a slight unmeritable man,

meet to be sent on errands.

Is it fit, the 3-fold world divided,

he should stand 1 of the 3 to share it?

He's a tried and valiant soldier.

So is my horse, Octavius.

Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.

Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies?

And, if not so, how should wrong a brother?

Before the eyes of both our armies here, which should perceive nothing but love from us, let us not wrangle.

Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs. And when you do them--

Cassius, be content. Speak your griefs softly.

I do know you well.

Let no man come to our tent till we've done our conference.

Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door.

That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:

you have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella for taking bribes here of the Sardians.

Wherein my letters, praying on his side, because I knew the man, were slighted off.

You wronged yourself to write in such a case.

In such a time as this it is not meet that every nice offence should bear his comment.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemn'd to have an itching palm.

To sell and mart your offices for gold to undeservers.

I an itching palm!

You know that you are Brutus that speak this,

or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

The name of Cassius honours this corruption, and chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

Chastisement!

Remember March,

the ides of March remember!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?

What, shall one of us that struck the foremost man of all this world

but for supporting robbers, shall we now contaminate our fingers with base bribes?

And sell the mighty space of our large honours for so much trash as may be grasped thus?

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, than such a Roman.

Brutus, bay not me. I'll not endure it! You forget yourself, to hedge me in.

I am a soldier, I,

older in practise, abler than yourself to make conditions.

- Go to; you are not, Cassius.

- I am.

- I say you are not.

- Urge me no more, I shall forget myself.

Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.

- Away, slight man!

- Is't possible?

Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

O ye gods, ye gods! Must I endure all this?

All this! ay, more.

Fret till your proud heart break!

Go show your slaves how choleric you are, and make your bondmen tremble.

Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch under your testy humour?

By the gods you shall digest the venom of your spleen, though it do split you.

or, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, when you are waspish.

Is it come to this?

You say you are a better soldier.

Let it appear so. Make your vaunting true, and it shall please me well!

For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

You wrong me every way. You wrong me, Brutus.

I said, an elder soldier, not a better.

Did I say 'better'?

If you did, I care not.

When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.

Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him.

- I durst not!

- No!

- What, durst not tempt him!

- For your life you durst not!

Do not presume too much upon my love.

I may do that I shall be sorry for.

You have done that you should be sorry for.

I did send to you for gold to pay my legions, which you denied me.

Was that done like Cassius?

Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, to lock

such rascal counters from his friends.

Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts.

- Dash him to pieces!

- I denied you not.

- You did.

- I did not!

He was but a fool that brought my answer back.

Brutus hath rived my heart.

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

but Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

I do not, till you practise them on me.

- You love me not.

- I do not like your faults.

A friendly eye could never see such faults.

A flatterer's would not, though they do appear as huge as high Olympus.

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, for Cassius is aweary of the world.

Hated by one he loves,

braved by his brother,

cheque'd like a bondman,

all his faults observed,

set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,t o cast into my teeth!

O, I could

weep my spirit from mine eyes!

There is my dagger,

and here my naked breast.

Within, a heart dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold!

If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth!

I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart!

Strike, as thou didst at Caesar,

for, I know, when thou didst hate him worst,

thou lovedst him better than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Sheathe your dagger.

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope.

O Cassius,

you are yoked with a lamb that carries anger as the flint bears fire.

who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark

and straight is cold again.

Hath Cassius lived to be but

mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

when grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.

Do you confess so much?

- Give me your hand.

- And my heart too.

Lucilius and Titinius,

bid the commanders prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you immediately to us.

Lucius, a bowl of wine!

I did not think you could have been so angry.

O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

Portia is dead.

Portia!

She is dead.

How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so?

O insupportable and touching loss!

Upon what sickness?

Impatient of my absence,

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