CASSIUS

Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Caesar. Will you go see the order of the course? I pray you do. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes, that gentleness And show of Love, as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn, and too strange a hand Over your Friend, that loves you. Then Brutus, I have much mistook your passion, By means whereof, this Breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great valve, worthy Cogitations. Tell me good Brutus, Can you see your face? I, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. I know that virtue to be in you Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, Honour is the subject of my Story: I cannot tell, what you and other men Think of this life: But for my single self, I had as lief not be, as live to be In awe of such a Thing, as I my self. I was born free as Caesar, so were you, We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the Winter's cold, as well as he. For once, upon a Raw and Gusty day, The troubled Tiber, chasing with her Shores, Caesar said to me, Darest thou Cassius now Leap in with me into this angry Flood, And swim to yonder Point? Upon the word, Accoutered as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so indeed he did. The Torrent roared, and we did buffet it With lusty Sinews, throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of Controversy. But ere we could arrive the Point proposed, Caesar cried, Help me Cassius, or I sink. I (as Aeneas, our great Ancestor, Did from the Flames of Troy, upon his shoulder The old Anchises's bear) so, from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar : And this Man, Is now become a God, and Cassius is A wretched Creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a Fever when he was in Spain, And when the Fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake: 'Tis true, this God did shake, His Coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same Eye, whose bend does awe the World, Did lose his Lustre: I did hear him groan: I, and that Tongue of his, that bade the Roman Mark him, and write his Speeches in their Books, Alas, it cried, Give me some drink Titinius, As a sick Girl: You Gods, it does amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the Majestic world, And bear the Palm alone. Why man, he does bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find our selves dishonourable Graves. Men at sometime, are Master's of their Fates. The fault (deer Brutus ) is not in our Stars, But in our Selves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar: What should be in that Caesar ? Why should that name be sounded more then yours? Write them together: Yours, is as fair a Name: Found them, it does become the mouth aswell: Weigh them, it is as heavy: Conjure with they, Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as Caesar. Now in the names of all the Gods at once, Upon what meat does this our Caesar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed. Room, thou hast lost the breed of Noble Bloods. When went there by and Age, since the great Flood, But it was famed with more then with one man? When could they say (till now) that talked of Room, That her wide Walks encompassed but one man? Now is it Room indeed, and Room enough When there is in it but one only man. Oh! you and I, have herd our Father's say, There was a Brutus once, that would have brooked the eternal Devil to keep his State in Room, As easily as a King. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. As they pass by Pluck Caska by the Sleeve, And he will (after his sour fashion) tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to day. Caska will tell us what the matter is. They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? Who offered him the Crown? But soft I pray you: what, did Caesar swoon? No, Caesar hath it not: but you, and I, And honest Caska, we have the Falling sickness. Did Cicero say any thing? To what effect? Will you sup with me to Night, Caska ? Will you Dine with me to morrow? Good, I will expect you. So is he now, in execution Of any bold, or Noble Enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form: This Rudeness is a Sauce to his good Wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better Appetite. I will do so: till then, think of the World. Well Brutus, thou art Noble: yet I see, Thy Honourable Mettle may be wrought From that it is disposed therefore it is meet, That Noble minds keep ever with their likes: For who so firm, that cannot be seduced? Caesar does bear me hard, but he loves Brutus. If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, He should not humour me. I will this Night, In several Hands, in at his Windows throw, As if they came from several Citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Room holds of his Name: wherein obscurely Caesars Ambition shall be glanced at. And after this, let Caesar seat him sure, For we will shake him, or worse days endure. Who's there? Caska by your Voice. A very pleasing Night S en Those that have known the Earth so full of faults. For my partly, I have walked about the streets, Submitting me unto the perilous Night; And thus unbraced, Caska, as you see, Have bared my Bosom to the Thunderstone: And when the cross blue Lightning seemed to open The Breast of Heaven, I did present my self Even in the aim, and very flash of it. You are dull, Caska: And those sparks of Life, that should be in a Roman, You do want, or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze, and put on fear, And cast your self in wonder, To see the strange impatience of the Heavens: But if you would consider the true cause, Why all these Fires, why all these gliding Ghosts, Why Birds and Beasts, from quality and kind, Why Old men, Fools, and Children calculate, Why all these things change from their Ordinance, Their Nature's, and pre-formed Faculties, To monstrous quality; why you shall find, That Heaven hath infused them with these Spirits, To make them Instruments of fear, and warning, Unto some monstrous State. Now could I (Caska) name to thee a man, Most Like this dreadful Night, That Thunders, Lightens, opens Graves, and roars, As does the Lion in the Capitol: A man no mightier then thy self, or me, In personal Actium; yet prodigious grown, And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. Let it be who it is: for Roman now Have Thews, and Limbs, Like to their Ancestors; But woe the while, our Father's minds are dead, And we are governed with our Mother's spirits, Our yoke, and sufferance, show us Womanish. I know where I will wear this Dagger then; Cassius from Bondage will deliver Cassius: Therein, ye Gods, you make the weak most strong; Therein, ye Gods, you Tyrants do defeat. Nor Stony Tower, nor Walls of beaten Brass, Nor ayre-lesse Dungeon, nor strong Links of Iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit: But Life being weary of these worldly Bars, Never lacks power to dismiss it self. If I know this, know all the World beside, That partly of Tyranny that I do bear, I can shake off at pleasure. And why should Caesar be a Tyrant then? Poor man, I know he would not be a Wolf, But that he sees the Roman are but Sheep: He were no Lion, were not Roman Hinds. Those that with haste will make a mighty fire, Begin it with weak Straws. What trash is Room? What Rubbish, and what Offal? when it serves For the base matter, to illuminate So vile a thing as Caesar. But o Grief, Where hast-thou led me? I (perhaps) speak this Before a willing Bondman: then I know My answer must be made. But I am armed, And dangers are to me indifferent. There's a Bargain made. Now know you, Caska, I have moved already Some certain of the Noblest minded Roman To undergo, with me, and Enterprise, Of Honourable dangerous consequence; And I do know by this, they stay for me In Pompey's Porch: for now this fearful Night, There is no stir, or walking in the streets; And the Complexion of the Element Is Favors, Like the Work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. It's Cinna, I do know him by his Gate, He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so? No, it is Caska, one incorporate To our Attempts. Am I not stayed for, Cinna ? Am I not stayed for? tell me. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this Paper, And look you lay it in the Praetors Chair, Where Brutus may but find it: and throw this In at his Window; set this up with Wax Upon old Brutus Statue: all this done, Repair to Pompey's Porch, where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? That done, repair to Pompey's Theater. Come Caska, you and I will yet, ere day, See Brutus at his house: three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter, yields him ours. Him, and his worth, and our great needs of him, You have right well conceited: let us go, For it is after Midnight, and ere day, We will awake him, and be sure of him. What, urge you your Petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol. What enterprise Popillius ? He wished to day our enterprise might thrive: I fear our purpose is discovered. Caska be sudden, for we fear prevention. Brutus what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, For I will slay my self. Trebonius knows his time: for look you Brutus He draws Mark Antony out of the way. Pardon Caesar: Caesar pardon: As low as to thy foot does Cassius fallen, To beg infranchisement for Publius Cymber. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out Liberty, Freedom, and Enfranchisement. And leave us Publius, least that the people Rushing on us, should do your Age some mischief. Where is Antony ? Stoop then, and wash. How many Ages hence Shall this our lofty Scene be acted over, In State unborn, and Accents yet unknown? So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be called, The Men that gave their Country liberty. I, every man away. Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heals With the most boldest, and best hearts of Room. I wish we may: But yet have I a mind That fears him much: and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose. Your voice shall be as strong as any men, In the disposing of new Dignities. Mark Antony. I blame you not for praising Caesar so, But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be pricked in number of our Friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you? Brutus, a word with you: You know not what you do; Do not consent That Antony speak in his Funeral: Know you how much the people may be moved By that which he will utter. I know not what may fallen, I Like it not. Stand ho. Most Noble Brother, you have done me wrong. Brutus, this sober form of yours, hides wrongs, And when you do them— Pindarus, Bid our Commanders lead their Charges off A little from this ground. That you have wronged me, does appear in this You have condemned, and noted Lucius Pella For taking Bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my Letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man was slighted off. In such a time as this, it is not meet That every nice offence should bear his Comment. I, and itching Palm? You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, Or by the Gods, this speech were else your last. Chastisement? Brutus, bait not me, I'll not endure it: you forget your self To hedge me in. I am a Soldier, I, Older in practice, Abler then your self To make Conditions. I am. Urge me no more, I shall forget my self: Have mind upon your health: Tempt me no farther. Is't possible? Oh you Gods, you Gods, Must I endure all this? Is it come to this? I durst not. What? durst not tempt him? Do not presume too much upon my Love, I may do that I shall be sorry for. I denied you not. I did not. He was but a Fool That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: A Friend should bear his Friends infirmities; But Brutus makes mine greater then they are. You love me not. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Come Antony, and young Octavius come, Revenge your selves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the World: Hated by one he loves, braved by his Brother, Checked Like a bondman, all his faults observed, Set in a Notebook, learned, and coned by roate To cast into my Teeth. Oh I could weep My Spirit from mine eyes. There is my Dagger, And here my naked Breast: Within, a Heart Dearer then Pluto is Mine, Richer then 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, y u lovedest him better Then ever thou lovedest Cassius. Hath Cassius lived To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus. When grief and blood ill tempered, vexes him? Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. Oh Brutus ! Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my Mother gave me Makes me forgetful. Cicero one? I have as much of this in Art as you, But yet my Nature could not bear it so. I do not think it good. This it is: It's better that the Enemy seek us, So shall he waste his means, weary his Soldiers, Doing himself offence, whilst we lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. Hear me good Brother. Then with your will go on: we'll along Our selves, and meet them at Philippi. No more, good night, Early to morrow will we rise, and hence. Oh my deer Brother: This was and ill beginning of the night: Never come such division between our souls: Let it not Brutus. Good night my Lord. Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown; But for your words, they rob the Hibla Bees, And leave them Hony-lesse. Flatterers? Now Brutus thank your self, This tongue had not offended so to day, If Cassius might have ruled. A peevish Schoolboy, worthless of such Honour Joined with a Masker, and a Reveller. Why now blow wind, swell Billow, And swim Bark: The Storm is up, and all is on the hazard. Messala, this is my Birthday: as this very day Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand Messala: Be thou my witness, that against my will (As Pompey was) am I compelled to set Upon one Battle all our Liberties. You know, that I held Epicurus strong, And his Opinion: Now I change my mind, And partly credit things that do presage. Coming from Sardis, on our former Ensign Two mighty Eagles fell, and there they perched, Gorging and feeding from our Soldiers hands, Who to Philippi here consorted us: This Morning are they fled away, and gone, And in their steeds, do Ravens, Crows, and Kites Fly over our heads, and downward look on us As we were sickly prey; their shadows seem A Canopy most fatal, under which Our Army lies, ready to give up the Ghost. I but believe it partly, For I am fresh of spirit, and resolved To meet all perils, very constantly. Now most Noble Brutus, The Gods to day stand friendly, that we may Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age. But since the affairs of men rests still incertain, Let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do loose this Battle, then is this The very last time we shall speak together: What are you then determined to do? Then, if we lose this Battle, You are contented to be led in Triumph Thorough the streets of Room. For ever, and for ever, farewell Brutus : If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; If not, it's true, this parting was well made. Oh look Titinius, look, the Villains fly: My self have to mine own turned Enemy: This Ensign here of mine was turning back, I slew the Coward, and did take it from him. This Hill is far enough. Look, look Titinius Are those my Tents where I perceive the fire? Titinius, if thou love me, Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, Till he have brought thee up to yonder Troops And here again, that I may rest assured Whither yond Troops, are Friend or Enemy. Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill, My sighed was ever thick: regard Titinius, And tell me what thou notest about the Field. This day I breathed first, Time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end, My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news? What news? Come down, behold no more: Oh Coward that I am, to live so long, To see my best Friend taken before my face. Come hither sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee Prisoner, And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, That whatsoever I did bid thee do, Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath, Now be a Freeman, and with this good Sword That ran through Caesars bowels, search this bosom. Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the Hilts, And when my face is covered, as it's now, Guide thou the Sword — Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the Sword that killed thee. It's joust, And it is very much lamented Brutus, That you have no such Mirrors, as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow: I have herd, Where many of the best respect in Room, (Except immortal Caesar ) speaking of Brutus, And groaning underneath this Ages yoke, Have wished, that Noble Brutus had his eyes. Therefore good Brutus, be prepared to hear: And since you know, you cannot see your self So well as by Reflection; I your Glass, Will modestly discover to your self That of your self, which you yet know not of. And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus : Were I a common Laughter, or did use To stale with ordinary Oaths my love To every new Protester: if you know, That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, And after scandal them: Or if you know, That I profess my self in Banqueting To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous. And let us swear our Resolution. But what of Cicero? Shall we found him? I think he will stand very strong with us. Then leave him out. 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 shrewed 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 fallen together. Yet I fear him, For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar. The Clock hath stricken three. Nay, we will all of us, be there to fetch him The morning comes upon's: We'll leave you Brutus, And Friends disperse your selves; but all remember What you have said, and show your selves true Roman. How now? What's the matter? Would, would, how vildly does this Cynic rhyme? Bear with him Brutus, it's his fashion. Away, away be gone. And come your selves, & bring Messala with you Immediately to us. I did not think you could have been so angry. Of your Philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Would? Portia ? How scaped I killing, when I croft you so? Oh insupportable, and touching lose! Upon what sickness? And died so? Oh you immortal Gods! My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge. Fill Lucius, till the Wine overswell the Cup: I cannot drink too much of Brutus love. I think we are too bold upon your Rest: Good morrow Brutus, do we trouble you? Yes, every man of them; and no man here But honours you: and every one does wish, You had but that opinion of your self, Which every Noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius. This, Decius Brutus. This, Caska ; this, Cinna ; and this, Metellus Cymber. Shall I entreat a word? You wrong me every way: You wrong me Brutus : I said, and Elder Soldier, not a Better. Did I say Better? When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Portia, art thou gone? But it is doubtful yet, Whither 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 unaccustomed Terror of this night, And the persuasion of his Augurers, May hold him from the Capitol to day. fast Titinius, we must out and talk. Messala.