Act II. Scene I. Julius Cæsar. Craig, W.J., ed. 1914. The Oxford Shakespeare

Reference > William Shakespeare > The Oxford Shakespeare > Julius Cæsar > Act II. Scene I.

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD · DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Oxford Shakespeare. 1914.

Julius Cæsar

Act II. Scene I.

Rome. BRUTUS’ Orchard.

Enter BRUTUS.
Bru. What, Lucius! ho!
I cannot, by the progress of the stars,	4
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.	8
Luc. Call’d you, my lord?
Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.
Luc. I will, my lord. [Exit.	12
Bru. 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 crown’d:
How that might change his nature, there’s the question:	16
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.	20
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
Remorse from power; and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections sway’d
More than his reason. But ’tis a common proof,	24
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,	28
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend. So Cæsar may:
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
Will bear no colour for the thing he is;	32
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, hatch’d, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,	36
And kill him in the shell.

Re-enter LUCIUS.
Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found	40
This paper, thus seal’d up; and I am sure
It did not lie there when I went to bed.
Bru. Get you to bed again; it is not day.
Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?	44
Luc. I know not, sir.
Bru. Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
Luc. I will, sir. [Exit.
Bru. The exhalations whizzing in the air	48
Give so much light that I may read by them. [Opens the letter.
Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake and see thyself.
Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress!
Brutus, thou sleep’st: awake!	52
Such instigations have been often dropp’d
Where I have took them up.
‘Shall Rome, &c.’ Thus must I piece it out:
Shall Rome stand under one man’s awe? What, Rome?	56
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
The Tarquin drive, when he was call’d a king.
‘Speak, strike, redress!’ Am I entreated
To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee promise;	60
If the redress will follow, thou receiv’st
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

Re-enter LUCIUS.
Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. [Knocking within.	64
Bru. ’Tis good. Go to the gate: somebody knocks. [Exit LUCIUS.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar,
I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing	68
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,	72
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.

Re-enter LUCIUS.
Luc. Sir, ’tis your brother Cassius at the door,	76
Who doth desire to see you.
Bru. Is he alone?
Luc. No, sir, there are more with him.
Bru. Do you know them?	80
Luc. 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
By any mark of favour.	84
Bru. 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	88
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,	92
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention.

Enter the Conspirators, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and TREBONIUS.
Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest:	96
Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?
Bru. I have been up this hour, awake all night.
Know I these men that come along with you?
Cas. Yes, every man of them; and no man here	100
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.	104
Bru. He is welcome hither.
Cas. This, Decius Brutus.
Bru. He is welcome too.
Cas. This, Casca; this, Cinna;	108
And this, Metellus Cimber.
Bru. They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?	112
Cas. Shall I entreat a word? [BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper.
Dec. Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?
Casca. No.
Cin. O! pardon, sir, it doth; and yon grey lines	116
That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
Casca. You shall confess that you are both deceiv’d.
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises;
Which is a great way growing on the south,	120
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.	124
Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one.
Cas. And let us swear our resolution.
Bru. No, not an oath: if not the face of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time’s abuse,	128
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,	132
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	136
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 engag’d,	140
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	144
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	148
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	152
Of any promise that hath pass’d from him.
Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.
Casca. Let us not leave him out.	156
Cin. No, by no means.
Met. O! let us have him; for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion
And buy men’s voices to commend our deeds:	160
It shall be said his judgment rul’d our hands;
Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.
Bru. O! name him not: let us not break with him;	164
For he will never follow any thing
That other men begin.
Cas. Then leave him out.
Casca. Indeed he is not fit.	168
Dec. Shall no man else be touch’d but only Cæsar?
Cas. Decius, well urg’d. I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well belov’d of Cæsar,
Should outlive Cæsar: we shall find of him	172
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 Cæsar fall together.	176
Bru. 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 Cæsar.	180
Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O! then that we could come by Cæsar’s spirit,	184
And not dismember Cæsar. But, alas!
Cæsar 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,	188
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	192
Our purpose necessary and not envious;
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call’d purgers, not murderers.
And, for Mark Antony, think not of him;	196
For he can do no more than Cæsar’s arm
When Cæsar’s head is off.
Cas. Yet I fear him;
For in the engrafted love he bears to Cæsar—	200
Bru. Alas! good Cassius, do not think of him:
If he love Cæsar, all that he can do
Is to himself, take thought and die for Cæsar:
And that were much he should; for he is given	204
To sports, to wildness, and much company.
Treb. There is no fear in him; let him not die:
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes.
Bru. Peace! count the clock.	208
Cas. The clock hath stricken three.
Treb. ’Tis time to part.
Cas. But it is doubtful yet
Whether Cæsar will come forth to-day or no;	212
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,	216
The unaccustom’d terror of this night,
And the persuasion of his augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to-day.
Dec. Never fear that: if he be so resolv’d,	220
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,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers;	224
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,	228
And I will bring him to the Capitol.
Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
Bru. By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?
Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.	232
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:
I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along by him:	236
He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;
Send him but hither, and I’ll fashion him.
Cas. The morning comes upon ’s: we’ll leave you, Brutus.
And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember	240
What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.
Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
Let not our looks put on our purposes,
But bear it as our Roman actors do,	244
With untir’d spirits and formal constancy:
And so good morrow to you every one. [Exeunt all except BRUTUS.
Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:	248
Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep’st so sound.

Enter PORTIA.	252
Por. Brutus, my lord!
Bru. 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.	256
Por. 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,	260
And when I ask’d you what the matter was,
You star’d upon me with ungentle looks.
I urg’d you further; then you scratch’d your head,
And too impatiently stamp’d with your foot;	264
Yet I insisted, yet you answer’d not,
But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did,
Fearing to strengthen that impatience	268
Which seem’d 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,	272
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,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.	276
Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
Por. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
Bru. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.	280
Por. 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	284
To dare the vile contagion of the night,
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
You have some sick offence within your mind,	288
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of; and, upon my knees,
I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,
By all your vows of love, and that great vow	292
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, your self, your half,
Why are you heavy, and what men to-night
Have had resort to you; for here have been	296
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.
Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.	300
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 of limitation,	304
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 it be no more,
Portia is Brutus’ harlot, not his wife.	308
Bru. You are my true and honourable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
Por. If this were true then should I know this secret.	312
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.	316
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,	320
Giving myself a voluntary wound
Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience
And not my husband’s secrets?
Bru. O ye gods!	324
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.	328
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.	332
Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak with you.
Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of.
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?
Lig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.	336
Bru. O! what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a kerchief. Would you were not sick.
Lig. I am not sick if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.	340
Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before
I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome!	344
Brave son, deriv’d from honourable loins!
Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur’d up
My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,
And I will strive with things impossible;	348
Yea, get the better of them, What’s to do?
Bru. A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
Lig. But are not some whole that we must make sick?
Bru. That must we also. What it is, my Caius,	352
I shall unfold to thee as we are going
To whom it must be done.
Lig. Set on your foot,
And with a heart new-fir’d I follow you,	356
To do I know not what; but it sufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.
Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt.

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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