Full Play - Julius Caesar

Next chapter podcasts. Hey there, pop fans. Next chapter podcast, creative production director Pete Musto here, jumping in to bend your ear for a second because we want to tell you about a head gum podcast we think you're going to love called Overdue. Overdue is a podcast about the books you've been meaning to read. Join Andrew and Craig each week as they tackle a new title from their backlog. Classic literature, obscure plays, goofy children's books, they read it all.

one overdue book at a time. Unpretentious but not unserious, Andrew and Craig are just two old friends trying to learn things they should already know by now. It's like a book club where you don't even have to read the books. Recent episodes include Beach Read by Emily Henry, Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, and Fight Club by Chuck Polonic. I know this is going to sound made up, but my wife and I were actually recently talking about Chekhov's gun.

And as it happens, one of their most recent episodes is about Chekhov's play, The Seagull, and it was great. Also, a few weeks ago, they covered one of my all-time favorite books as a kid, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham. And their take on it was so fun. So subscribe now so you don't miss another episode of Overdue, airing every Monday. Find it wherever you listen to your podcasts. And for more information, head to overduepodcast.com.

Join Play On Premium to get merch like t-shirts, hoodies, and coffee mugs, ad-free episodes, and bonus content video featuring interviews with the actors, producers, playwrights, and directors who brought it all to life. Go to ncpodcasts.com. and subscribe to PlayOn Premium to support the art and the artists. Next Chapter Podcast presents the Play On Podcast series, Julius Caesar. For the best listening experience, be sure to use your headphones or earbuds. Lend me your ears. Mmm.

What are you all doing? Just not even the holiday. Don't you know? You ought not work on the Sabbath. Speak up! What is your job in the movement? Me, sir? I'm cutting wood to hold up posters. Likely story. How come I don't see measuring tape and nail? And why are you decked out in your Sunday best? I just came back from the temple. You should have stayed there. Clearly God's not done. And you.

What's your calling? Let me guess. It's arts and crafts. Uh, no, sir. I'm what you might call a foot soldier. Don't pull my leg. You a foot soldier with all that mouth? I've only spoken when spoken to. I'm a foot soldier because I can walk for miles. I'm loyal and I won't stand for just anything. I bet he'll run at the first sign of danger.

I beg your pardon, sir. Please, watch your mouth. I may just be a foot soldier, but I can certainly make you heal. Meaning what? Do you think you can best me? At best, sir, I can you lay prostrate. At worst, I'll bring you to your knees and make you kiss my ass. I'm a foot soldier, ergo, I'm quick on my feet. This man's a dancer, light on his toes. So say the last man before I made him put his foot in his mouth. I am, sir, like fine leather to new boots.

If you rub me the wrong way, I'll likely buck. That sounds like bull. Again, why are you men not somewhere kneeling or head bowed in God's house? Who tasked you with making posters when the procession is not for days? Well, frankly, sir, we were told if we made enough signs... we would be allowed in the parade. Close enough to glimpse our king. Maybe even shake his hand and revel in the triumphs of the day. Revel? Why?

What conquest does he bring home? You bricks, you stones, you knit which should know better. Don't be do-nothings who do as the Romans do. Use your brains. Remember all the men who marched alongside King, using their bodies as battlements to protect him, and the children who climbed roofs peered through windows to get a look at the Great One.

while their fathers got hosed and chewed up by dogs. Remember the babies in their mother's arms, the elders who proudly set the whole damn day with anxious expectation. to see king and pompous stride march through the streets and when they got their glimpse and all did make a cataclysmic howl such that the drums in our ears did shake and for what since the city was covered in blood? And now you stand there casket clean and your Sunday's best chest out.

proud like a peacock and on the holy day of all days with praise for our king on your tongue and none for the men whose bodies were laid slain none for their sons go home run into your houses, fall down on your knees. Pray to God to mitigate the curse that surely lights on this ingratitude. He's right. Go, good man, and likewise assemble all the poor men of your guild. Draw them to the river's banks and weep tears into its depths.

And not for our leader, but for those true kings whose bodies carry the heaviest burden. For those who will lose most if freedom never comes to us. Notice how their simple minds can't be moved. They scatter tongue-tied in their guiltiness. You go down that way toward downtown. This way shall I. Tear down king's placards if you should find them on post or post. Should we do that? The holiday is just days away. Should we not let there be peace until after then? What peace? We are at war.

Don't let images bearing King's name or the holidays distract our people's minds. I'll police the other streets and drive those who try to stop me for growing feathers that plume king's crown must be plucked until he flies. Only a god can soar above men. After he falls, we can all rise and show the world that he is but a chicken, for chickens are better when fried. Calpurnia. Quiet! Caesar speaks! Calpurnia. I'm here, husband.

Stand here directly in Antonio's path, where soon he'll run his course. Antonio! Caesar, my brother. Remember in your haste, Antonio, to always keep an eye on my Calpurnia. For the elders say that men become widowers when their wives are not treated or protected like fine Jew. I shan't forget, when Caesar says do this, it will be done. Let's hear music! Leave no note on play. Isa? Yes, who calls? Hold every noise! Be quiet! Quiet! Quiet!

Who is it from the fray that calls me out? I hear a tongue more shrill than all the music in this world, Christ Caesar. Speak. I am tuned to hear. Beware the Ides of March. What woman is this who speaks in Proverbs? An old woman begs you to beware, sir. Bring her here. Let me see her face. Old woman, step forward. Look upon King. What is this you say to me? Speak once again. Beware the Ides of Marge. You sound like a dreamer. And yet, you are the one who spoke of a dream.

Let's leave her. Come! Let's have us a race! Will you go to see the outcome of the race? I hadn't planned on it. I pray you do. Why? I am not sporty. I do lack some part of that exuberance that's in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your wishes. I'll leave you. Brutus, I have observed you recently, and find not in your eyes that gentleness and show of love that I had once relished. You bear too willful and too stern a hand over your friend that loves you.

Cassius, don't be deceived. If I've concealed any thoughts, I turn the contemplation of my brow merely upon myself. Displeased am I of late with passion. ideas purely native to myself which give some soil perhaps to my comportment therefore let not my good friends be distressed among whose number caches I count you nor construe any further my neglect, then I, poor Brutus, am merely at war with myself and may forget to show love to my dearest friends.

Then, Brutus, I have much misjudged your intent, and as such in this breast of mine have buried thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus. Can you see your face? No, Cassius, for the eye can't see itself but only by the reflection in other man's eyes. Tis true. And it is very much lamented, Brutus, that you do lack such mirrors that could shine your hidden value into your own eyes so that you might glimpse your own worth.

I have heard where many of the most revered in Rome except immortal. king speaking of brutus and groaning under this age's yoke have wished that noble brutus had his eyes Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, that you would have me seek into myself for that which in me I do not already see? Your vision may be blurry, but good Brutus is prepared to hear.

And since you know you cannot see yourself so well as by reflection, I will be your mirror and will modestly reveal to you that of yourself which you yet know not of. What is this roaring? I fear that the people are applauding King Caesar as if he were the son of God. Ah, do you fear it so? If so, then I believe you would have it otherwise. He is not God, Cassius. Yet I love him almost as much. But why do you detain me here so long? What is it that you would convey to me?

If it pertains toward the general good, set honor in one eye and death in the other, and I will look on the matter indifferently. God bless me so, since I love honor more than I fear. There is more virtue in your veins than blood, Brutus. Even your face is noble. Because honor is the subject of my story. I only ask that you hear my side, even though your loyalty to Caesar makes you impartial. Think of this life.

But for my single self, I was born with as free a mind as he and so were you. We were reared on good... home training and can see after ourselves and our families as much as he. In fact, the only difference I see became clear to me one blustery day when Caesar and I went boating. We found ourselves in the bowels of a storm. The waves were such that it tossed the boat into bits. So Caesar said to me, Dare you now, Cassius?

leap in with me into this angry flood and swim to yonder point. Upon his word, fully clothed as I was, I plunged in and urged him to follow, which indeed he did. The torrent roared, but we damned with the tide with lusty sinews cutting through its broil and stemming it with hearts of disputation. But... Well, before we reached the point proposed, he cried, Help me, Cassius, or I'll see. And I did think of the holy writ.

when the Son of God walked upon a terrible sea and did bid Peter to follow. And it occurred to me that he was no God. In fact, he was less... than a king a wretched creature for unlike god's son he lacked faith and it was i who stood upon the sea as if i were in the storm's eye I carried his body to the shore and saved myself in him, but thou never to tell a soul. Oh, how he did shake. It is true.

This creature shook his craven lips did from their pinkness fly, and that same eye whose gaze does all the world did lose its glimmer. I did hear him groan. I and that tongue of his that preacheth fire and brimstone. Mark him and write. His speeches in their books. Alas, he cried, give me some drink. Like a sick girl. My God, it did astound me. A man of such a feeble temper should so catch the breath of the majestic world and claim the prize alone.

Another thunderous shout? I do believe that these ovations are for some new honors to be heaped on him. Why, man, he stands astride the narrow world like a colossus, and we piddlin' men... gulk beneath its huge legs and peep about to dig our own dishonorable graves. Men at some point are masters of their fate. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar.

What is it about a man who grew up with the world calling him king? Why must that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together. Isn't yours as true a name? Chew them in the mouth. Don't they sop the same saliva? Weigh them on the lips. Both are as heavy. Even conjure with them. Brutus will cast any spell that Caesar can. No man's name is greater than the others.

even if one skips more trippingly on the tongue or is more useful to pun. So, then why should Caesar grow so great? Age be damned! We are up to our necks in noble Negroes. This is our room indeed and there is room enough for all men to be kings. Oh you and I have heard our father say dear Brutus that Someday a king will come on a cloud with great glory and power, but that king is not. Here and there are no clouds, and glory is where he is bound, not what he brings. He is so easily not my king.

Listen, I know you love me, Cassius. That I have no doubt. And what I assume you are asking me to do, I have pondered before. But if you truly love me, then I implore that you say no more. I will consider what you have to say. I will with patience listen. and find a time both apt to hear and answer such grave things till then most noble friend chew upon this brutus had rather be a foreigner than to repute himself a son of Rome under these loath conditions as this time will likely lay upon us.

I am glad that my weak words have struck a chord, for if there is heat in Bruder's might, you be the one to serve the first blow. Quiet. The race is done. The man of the hour is returning. Listen. As they pass by, tug Casco by the sleeve, and he will, in his surly fashion, spew what has emerged noteworthy today. I will do so. But look, you Cassius. The angry sparks on Caesar's furrowed brow and all the rest like chided schoolboys pout. Galpurnia's cheek is pale and Cicero looks with such

ferret, such fiery eyes, much like we've seen him in church being crossed and quarreled by some ministers. Casco will tell us what the matter is. Antonia, Caesar, let me have men around me that are fat, with slicked-backed hair, the kind that sleep at night. That Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. Fear him not. He's not dangerous. He's a noble man, even killed. I wish he were fatter. Though I fear him not.

Yet if I were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid as much as that spare Cassius. He reads much. He is a great observer, and he sees straight through the deeds of men. He loves no plays, as you do, Antony. He hears no music. Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a way as if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit for being so moved to smile at anything.

Such men as he are never at heart's peace while they behold a greater good than themselves, and therefore they are very dangerous. I rather tell you what is to be feared than what I fear. For always, I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, and tell me truly what you think of it.

You pulled me by the sleeve. Why? What's up yours? Tell us what transpired today that had Caesar looking so sad. Why, you were with him, were you not? If I was, would I be asking you what transpired? True. True. Let's see. There was a crown offered him, and being offered him, Caesar gave it back and instead waved his hand. So then the people started shouting again.

What was the second shout for? Why for that, too? They shouted three times. What was the last for? Why for that also? When some folks shout, it causes the spirit to move, and shouting begets shouting. Was the crown offered him thrice? Indeed it was, and he pushed it off thrice, each time gentler than the other, and every time my brothers and sisters shouted,

Caesar is king! Who offered him the crown? Who? Antony. Tell us how it played out, gentle Casca. I might as well have monkeys fly out my ass as to tell how it played out. But I'll try. It was good theater. I could not abide it. I saw Mark Anthony offer him a crown. Yet not a crown, really. It was one of those made of thorns. And as I mentioned...

He put it aside quickly, but held to it long enough to appease the people, though I know he would have gladly kept it. So Anthony offered it to him again, and he gave it back again. And again I felt he was quite loath to lay his digits off it. But then he was offered it the third time, and thrice he gave it back, equally nice. And still... As he refused it, the rabble roared and clapped their hands and threw up their sweaty kerchiefs and let out such a bouquet of hollering.

that he nearly fainted at the sound. And for my own part, I did dance a little, but stopped, for fear of opening my lips and inhaling the spirit that fell over that place and losing myself to it. But wait, hold on now. What? Did Caesar faint? He fell down in the pulpit, spoke in tongues, then was speechless. It's quite likely he has the falling sickness. No.

Aw, he has something. A malady. But it's unlike you and I and Honest Casca knows it. He knows Caesar is not like us. I'm not sure what you mean by that, but I am sure. he fell down to his knees. If the brethren did not applaud or boo him accordingly as he pleased some and displeased others, like actors on the stage often do.

What said he once he came back to his senses? Indeed, before he fell down, when he perceived the people were ultimately glad he refused the crown, he threw off his cloth and asked me, to lay hands on him. Now, had he and I not been closer than a brother, I would have taken him at his word and might have gone to hell for striking a man of the cloth. But then it occurred to me,

that he wanted me to lay hands in prayer and not lay hands in fists. So I did, and that's when he fell. When he came to his senses again, he said, if he had done. or said anything amiss, he desired their worship to blame it on his being caught up in the spirit. That's when three or four working women where I stood cried. Blessings, brother preacher! And forgave him with all their hearts, since Baptists are not supposed to dance. But they could have cared less. Help!

If Caesar would have stabbed their mothers, they would have forgave him in a second breath and cursed their mothers' graves. And after that he came away quietly? As a mouse in church. Did Cicero say anything? Yep, he spoke in foreign tongue. And he said? If any man told you he understood it, they would be a liar. It sounded Latin, but it was all Greek to me.

Yet, if I recall his body language, here is what I could decipher. Morellis and Flavius were punished for pulling down placards that celebrated the holiday. or broadcast Caesar's words. So beware how you treat him. The people won't put up with it. Will you dine with me tomorrow? Sure. If I still draw breath. And your wife can still cook. And if I mind, don't get jealous from me moaning at the taste of her meats. Good. Then I will expect you. Do so. Farewell.

Brothers. What kind of imbecile has he become? He was quick-witted when we were at school. As he is now, in the carrying out of any bold or worthy endeavor, however he puts on this vacuous form. His crudeness is the spice to do his wit, which gives men's stomach to digest his words with better appetite. Tomorrow, if you care to speak with me, I will come to your home. Or if you will, come to mine and there I'll wait for you. I will do so. Till then, pray for the world.

Well Brutus, though you are noble, I yet see that your honorable still can be reshaped if forged in enough flame. Therefore, it's fitting that noble minds keep always with their own kind. For what man is so hard that he cannot be seduced? Caesar resents me for my assuredness, but he loved Brutus. If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, he could not have swayed me, for unlike these men, I am made of an unbendable metal.

will tonight throw several missives up at his window, each writ as if from a different hand to disguise their nature. They will convey the feelings of all. that Brutus is beloved and Caesar is ambitious. After this, his end will be assured. A new noble shall sit upon the throne, lest worse days endure. Evening, Casca. Did you bring Caesar home? Why are you breathless and why do you stare so? Are you not scared?

When all the might of earth shakes like a thing unformed? Oh, Cicero, I have seen tempests when the scolding winds have hacked the naughty oaks, but never till tonight. that I race through a tempest-dropping fire, that there is a civil strife in heaven, or else the world, too brazen with God, enrages him to send destruction. What saw you that was most terrifying? A farmer, you see him every day, held up his left hand, which did flame and burn like twenty torches joined.

Yet this hand, which toiled the land, not cognizant of fire, stayed unscorched. I was frightened, but hadn't yet drawn my weapon, when a lion appeared with my face. It glowered at me and charged but went by without attacking. And there were hundreds of women who swore they saw men on fire marching down the street. If that wasn't enough to make you hoot, I heard an owl shriek at high noon. When these homages do so align and meet, let men not say,

These are the reasons things are unnatural. For I believe they are prophetic signs toward the climate that is soon to come. Indeed, it is a strange and puzzling time. But brother, men often construe things to their selfish needs, far from the purpose of the things themselves. Comes our king to the temple tomorrow? He does. But he proposed Antonio send word to you he would be there. Good night, then, Casca. This disturbed sky is not one to walk under.

Farewell, Cicero. Who's there? A gentleman. Ha. Casca, by your voice. Your ear is good, Cassius. What a night, huh? A very pleasing night to an honest man. Whoever knew the heavens could stir so? Those that have known this world to be so full of faults. For my part, I've walked the streets, submitting myself to this perilous night, and thus, uncloaked as you can see, Casca, have bared my bald head to God's thunderbolt. But why?

when you attempt to tempt God. It's natural for men to shiver and shake when God sends such signals, such dreadful omens to astonish us. You're dull, Casca. And those sparks of life that should be in a true gentleman, you sorely lack or else you waste them. You look pale for a brother and stare and shake with fear and gawk about in wonder to see the grave impatience of the heavens. But if you would consider the real cause, wow.

all the fires why all the gliding ghosts why birds and beasts stray from their beaten path why all these things change from their normalcy their nature and their primal faculties to monstrous why you will find that heaven has infused them with spirits to make them instruments of fear and warning about some monstrous state.

Now could I, Casca, name to you a man most like this dreadful night that... thunders and lightens open graves and roars and does as the lion in the bush a man no mightier than yourself or me In personal action, yet prodigious groan and frightening as these strange eruptions are. To Caesar that you mean. is it not cassius let it be who it is for real men know though some profess to have the prowess of their fathers when they

fact just want to be waited on like their mothers. Ah, you speak of the senator's plan to anoint him king. The man doesn't need to wear a crown. You've heard the proverb. A prophet is treated with honor everywhere except at home. I know just what suit to wear to hide a dagger. Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius.

But life being weary of these worldly bars never lacks the power to discharge itself if I know this I'll have the whole world know that part of tyranny that I keep clenched between my teeth, I can release at my pleasure. So can I. So every minion in his own hand bears the power to discharge his captivity. And why should a king be a tyrant then? Poor man. I know he wouldn't be a wolf, but that he sees that men are but sheep. He wouldn't think himself a lion if his men weren't a bunch of asses.

Those in a rush to make a mighty fire begin it with weak twigs. What trash is this place? What rubbish and refuse when it serves as kiln to illuminate so vile a thing as a king. But, oh grief, where have you led me? I perhaps speak this to a man who prefers not to be free, and I may be in danger of having to answer for it. If so, know that I am armed and not afraid of a little blood. Whoa, brother. You're speaking to Casca and to such a man.

who wears one face, not two. Take my hand. Be factious for redress to right these wrongs. And I will place this foot of mine. as far as any man does. That's a bargain made. Now, you know, Casca, I've swayed already certain noble-minded men to undergo with me an enterprise of honorable... yet dangerous consequence. And I do know by this they wait for me tonight at the temple steps. As for this weather,

There's no fear of walking in the streets, and the appearance of the elements are not unlike the work we have in hand. Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. Hang on. Here comes one in haste. It's Senna. Senna, why haste you so? In search of you? Who's that? Metella Simba? No, it's Casca. One in union to our attempts. Am I not stayed for, Senna? Take hand, Casca. What a fearful night is this. There's two of three of us who've seen a strange sight.

Am I not waited for? Tell me. Yes, you are. O Cassius, if you could, what draw the noble Brutus to our body? Calm down. Good sinner. Take this paper and throw this in at his window. All this done, go back to the temple steps where you shall find us. Is Decius, Brutus, and Trebonius there? All but Metella Simba, and she's gone to seek you at your house. Well, I'll hurry and so bestow these papers as you urged me. That done. Return to the temple.

Comcast, you and I will yet ere day meet Brutus at his house. Three parts of him is ours already. and the man entire upon the next encounter shall be ours. Oh, he sits high in all the people's hearts, and though that which appears offends us, his noble face, by richest alchemy, will change to virtue and to worthiness. Him and his worth and our great need of him, you have rightly deduced. Now, let us go.

where it is after midnight and air day we will awake him and make sure he's ours. Let's do it. Where is Lucius? I cannot by the progress of the stars reckon how near today- Lucius, I say. I wish I had the malady of sound sleep. Lucius, awake, I say. Come, Lucius. You called, sir. Place me a candle in my study. When it is lighted, come and fetch me here. I will, sir. must be by his death. And for my part, I have no personal cause to strike at him, but for the greater good he would be crowned.

How might that change his nature? That's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that demands careful walking. Crown him that. And then I fear we'll bless him with a sting that at his will he may do damage with. The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.

and truth be told of him i have not known when his affections weighed more than his reason but it's a common tale that modesty is young ambition's ladder to where the upward climber bows his head but when he once attains the utmost rung, he then unto the latter turns his back, looks to the clouds, scorning the lower rungs by which he did ascend, so Caesar may.

Then lest he may prevent, and since the quarrel is with his future self, not what he is, fashion it thus, that what he is magnified would run to these and those extremities, and therefore think him as a serpent's... egg once hatched would has his kind grow troublesome. So kill him in the shell. Hmm. Get you to bed again. It is not day. Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March? I know not, sir. Look in the calendar and bring me word. I will, sir.

The meteors whizzing in the air give so much light that I may read by them. Brutus, you sleep, awake and see yourself. Shall roam, et cetera, speak, strike, redress. Rutus, you sleep, awake. Such intimations have been often dropped where I have took them up. Shall Rome, et cetera, thus must I piece it out. Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? My ancestors from the fields did demand their freedom when the world was at war.

speak, strike, redress. Am I solicited then to speak and strike? Rome, I promise you, if the amends will follow, You'll receive your full entreaty at the hand of Brutus. Sir, March is wasted 15 days. That's good. Go to the gate. Somebody knocks. Since Cassius first did whet my appetite against Caesar, I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, all the interim...

is like a phantasm or a hideous dream. The unconscious mind and to the sacred flesh unite to take up arms against consciousness, like to a little kingdom suffering. the nature of a bloody civil war. Sir, it's your brother Cassius at the door who does desire to see you. Is he alone? No, sir. There are more with him. Do you know them? No, sir. Their hats are covering their eyes and half their faces buried in their cloaks. Let them enter.

Here comes the faction. Ah, conspiracy. Shamed are you to show your murderous brow this night when evils are most free? And by day, where will you find a cavern dark enough to mask your monstrous visage? I think we are intruding on your rest. Good morrow, Brutus. Do we trouble you? I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you? Yes, every one of them.

And no one here but honors you, and everyone wishes you had but that opinion of yourself which every noble man carries of you. This is Trebonius. He is welcome hither. This Dicious Brutus. Sir. She is welcome too. This Casca. Yo. This sinner. Sir. And this Metellus Simba. Good evening. They are all welcome. Give me your hands all over, one by one. And let us swear our resolution. No.

Not an oath, if not the grimace of men, the sufferance of our souls, the error's abuse. If these are weak motives, break off at once and every man back to his idle bed. So let high-sighted tyranny range on till each man drop by lottery. But if we, as I am sure we do, bear fire enough to kindle cowards and to steal with valor the melting spirits of women, then countrymen, what need we any spur but our own cause to prick us to reprisal?

What other bond than secret men that have spoke the word and will not falter? And what other oath than honesty to honesty engaged that this shall be? or we will fall for it. Cowards and priests swear as do cautious men, old feeble flesh, and such suffering souls that greet abuse, and only men you wouldn't...

Trust would swear to welcome wrongs, but do not stain the level virtue of our Enterprise nor the irrepressible strength of our spirits do think that our cause or our accomplishment did need an oath when every drop of blood that every man bears and nobly bears is guilty of several bastardy if he do break the smallest particle of any promise that have passed his lips. But what of Cicero? What will he think? I think he will stand very strong with us. Let us not leave him out.

No, by no means. Oh, let us have him, for his silver hairs will purchase us a good opinion. It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands. Our youth and wildness shall be well concealed, but all be buried in his gravity. Not Cicero. Let us not split with him, for he will never follow anything that other men begin. Fine. Then leave him out. Indeed. He is not fit. Shall no man else be touched but only Caesar? Decius well urged.

I think it is not wise Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, should outlive him. We shall find of him a shrewd opponent. And you know his means, if he improves them, may well stretch so far as to imperil us all, which to prevent. Let Antony and him fall together. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius cashes, to cut the head off and then hack.

the limbs, like wrath and death and envy afterwards, for Antony is but a limb of him. Let's be sacrificers, not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against his spirit. and in men's spirits you will find no blood. Oh, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit and not dismember him. But alas, he must bleed for it. And gentle friends, let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully.

Let's carve him as a sacrificial lamb, not hew him as a carcass fit for dogs. And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, stir up... their servants to an act of rage and afterwards seem to chide him this will make our purpose necessary and not envious which so appearing to the common eye we shall be called purgers, hot murderers. And for Mark Antony, think not of him, for he can do no more than a king's arm when Caesar's head is taken off. Yet I fear him for the conjointed love he bears.

Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him. If he loves Caesar, all that he can do is hurt himself and grieve and die for him. That's more than his measure, for he's given to sports, to wildness, and much company. There's no fearing him. Let him not die, for he will live and laugh at this hereafter. Peace. Count the clock. The clock hath stricken thrice. Tis time to part. But it is doubtful yet if Caesar will come forth today or no.

For he of latest superstitious grown quite from the main opinion he once held of fantasy of dreams and conjuring. It may be these apparent talismans, the... Unaccustomed terror of this knight and the persuasion of his soothsayers may hold him from the temple today. Never fear that. If he be so resolved, I can... coerce him.

For he loves to hear that unicorns may be captured with trees and bears with mirrors, elephants in holes, lions with nets, and men with flatterers. But when I tell him he hates flatterers... He says he does, being then most flattered. Let me work, for I can give his humor the right twist, and I will bring him to the temple myself. No, we will all of us go there to fetch him. By the eighth hour, is that the latest time? Be that the latest time, and fail not then.

Caius Ligarius, for Caesar has no love, who chides him for speaking well. I wonder why none of you have thought of him. No. Good Metellus, go along by him. He loves me well, and I have given him reasons. Send him but this way, and I'll conscript him. Morning has broken. We'll leave you now, Brutus. And friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember what you have said, and show yourselves true brothers. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily.

Let not our looks betray our purposes, but bear it as our Roman actors do, with rested spirit and steadfast resolve. And so good morrow to you, everyone. Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter. Enjoy the heavy honeydew of slumber. You have no fears nor no fantasies which anxious care spills in the brains of men. Therefore you sleep so sound. Brutus, my husband. Portia, what means this?

Why rise you this hour? It is not for your health thus to commit your weak condition to the raw, cold morning. Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, stole from my bed. and yester-eve 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 down your foot.

yet i insisted yet you answered not but with an angry flutter of your hand gave sign for me to leave you so i did fearing to fortify that impatience which seemed too much enkindled, nevertheless hoping it was but an effective humor which sometimes has 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 has much prevailed on your condition? I should not know you, Brutus. My dear, make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

I am not well in health, and that is all. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, he would embrace the means to come by it. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. Is Brutus sick, and is it judicious to walk unlaced and suck up the vapors of the dank morning? Why, is Brutus sick? And will he steal out of his wholesome bed to dare the vile contagion of the night? To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus.

You have some sickness within your mind 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 which did amalgamate and make us one, that you unfold to me. Yourself, your half, why you are heavy. And what men tonight have had access to you? For here have been some six or seven who did hide their faces, even from the darkness. Kneel not, gentle Portia.

I should not need if you were gentle, Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, is it excluded? I should know no secrets that do relate to you. Am I yourself? but as it were in part 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 it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot and not his wife. You are my true and honorable wife, as dear to me as are the crimson drops that visit my sad heart.

If this were true, then should I know your secret. I grant I am a woman, but also a woman that you took to wife. I grant I am a woman, but as well 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 them. 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? Dear God, render me worthy of this noble wife. Listen. one knocks portia go in awhile and by and by thy bosom shall partake the secrets of my heart all my engagements i will render for you all the character of my sad brows but for now leave me with haste Lucius, who's that Nox? Here is a sick man that would speak with you. Caius Ligarius that Metella spoke of. Boys, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?

Except good morrow from a feeble tongue. Ah, brave Caius, would you not sick? I am not sick if Brutus have in hand any exploit worth the name of honor. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius. Had you a healthful ear to hear of it? In the name of our God, whom all men bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of man, brave son derived from honorable lawns. You, like an exorcist, have conjured up my mortified spirit. Now bid me run.

And I will tackle things impossible. Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? A piece of work that will make sick men whole. What? Are not some whole that we must make sick? That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to you as we are going. To whom it must be done. Set on your foot and with a heart new-fire I follow you. To do I know not what, but it sufficeth since Brutus leads me on. Follow me then. Yeah.

Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight. Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, Help ho! They murder Caesar. Who's within? Minister. Go bid the elders to make burnt offerings, and bring me their opinions of what signs and symbols they see. I will, sir. What mean you, husband? Think you to walk forth?

You shall not stir out of your house today. I shall. The things that threaten me are always at my back, most of which I can see. For Rome to have true freedom... the sword that is plunged in her cannot be pulled half-way or more such is not progress only by healing the wound that the blade made can our nation mend And those that hate Rome haven't pulled their knives out, much less let heel to the wound. Caesar, I have never stood on ceremony. Yet something unknown frightens me.

Such was the feeling I had the night before. To recount the most horrid sight seen by men. A lioness has well bit in the streets. and graves have yawned and yielded up their dead. The noise of battle clanging in the air, horses drew neigh, and dying men did groan, and phantoms shrieked and squealed about the streets. Oh, sir, these things are beyond the pale, and I do fear them. What can be avoided whose end is purposed by the mighty God? Yet I shall go forth.

But these auguries are for the world in general, as for me. When beggars die, there are no comets seen. The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. Cowards die many times before their deaths. the valiant never taste of death but once of all the wonders that i yet have heard it seems to me most strange that men should fear seeing that death is a necessary end

It will come when it will come. What says the elders? They will not have you to stir forth today. Praying, tearing all night, they've heard nothing from God. Haven't found the heart to tell you to go. Silence too can be a sign from God. If they don't have the heart, then I must. fear alone cannot keep me at home i know full well danger seen and unseen but none more dangerous than me and my god we are two lions littered in one day

And he, the elder and more terrible, shall lead me forth. Alas, half of my soul, your wisdom is consumed in confidence. Do not go forth, I pray. Call it my fear that keeps you in the house and not your own. We'll send Mark Antony to the temple and he shall say you are not well. Let me. Upon my knees. Be satisfied. Fine. Mark Antony shall say I am not well. And for your mind's peace, I will stay at home.

Here's Disha's Brutus. She shall tell them so. Minister Goodmorrow, worthy is our God. I come to fetch you to the temple. Then you are come in very happy time to bear my greeting to the brethren. Tell them that I will not come today. Cannot is false, and that I dare not more false. I will not come today. Tell them so, Odysseus. Say he is sick. And send a lie. Have I in conquest stretched my arms so far?

To now be too scared to tell old men the truth? These just go tell them I will not come. Most mighty minister, let me know some cause, lest I be laughed at when I tell them so. The cause is in my will. I will not come. That is enough to satisfy our brothers. But for your private satisfaction, because I love you, I will let you know. Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home.

She dreamt tonight she saw a statue of me hung like Christ, which like a fountain with a hundred spouts did run pure blood, and many lusty men came smiling and did bathe their hands in it. And these she fears are as warnings and portents and evils imminent. And on her knee, as begged that I will stay at home tonight. This dream is all interpreted amiss. it was a vision fair and fortunate your statue spouting blood from many holes in which so many smiling men bathed signifies that from you

all men shall suck reviving blood, and that great men shall fight for tinctures, stains, relics, and knowledge. This, by Calpurnia's dream, is signified. This way have you well expounded it. I have, when you have heard what else I say. And know it now. The men have concluded to give this day a crown to you, mighty minister.

If you shall send them word you will not come, their hearts may break. Besides, it were a mock apt to be rendered for someone to say, Break up the brethren till another time when Caesar's wife shall sleep with better dreams. If the honorable minister hides himself, shall they not whisper, lo, he is afraid? Pardon me, sir, but my dear.

Dear love, for your advancement bids me speak so plain. And reason over love is liable. How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia. I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go now. And look where Publius has come to fetch me. Good morrow, Caesar. Welcome, Publius. What? Brutus, are you stirred so early too? Good morrow, Casca, Caius Ligarius. What is the clock? Good minister, it has struck eight. I thank you for your pains and courtesy.

See, Antony, that revels long a night is not withstanding up. Good morrow, Antony. So to you, most noble brother. Bid them prepare within. I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Senna, now, Metellus. Wait, Trebonius. I have an hour's talk in store for you. Remember that you call on me today. Be near me that I may remember you. I will. Good friends, go in and taste some wine with me. And we, like friends, will straightway go together. That every like is not the same. Oh, brother minister.

The heart of Brutus weeps to think about. Beware of Brutus. Take heed of Cassius. Come not near Casca. Have an eye to sinner. Trust not Trebonius. Mark well Metellus Simba. Decius Brutus loves thee not. Thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent. against you. If thou beest not immortal, look about you. Security gives way to conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee. Thy brother Ultimate door. Here will I stand till he pass along.

And as a suitor will I give him this. My heart laments that virtue cannot live beyond the bite of envious rivalry. Thou read this, brother minister. Thou mayst live. If not, the fates with traitors do contrive. I beg you, boy, race to the temple. Stay not to answer me, but get you gone. Why do you stay? To know my errand, madam. I would have had you there and here again ere I can tell you what you should do there.

Constancy, be strong upon my side. Set a huge mountain between my heart and tongue. I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. Art thou here yet? Madam, what should I do? Run to the temple and nothing else. Also return to you and nothing else? Yes! Bring me word, boy! If thy minister look well, for he went sickly forth, and take good note what he does, what suitors press him. Wait, boy, what noise is that?

I hear none, madam. Well then, listen well! I hear a buzzing rumor like a brawl, and the wind brings it from the temple. In truth, madam? I hear nothing. Madame? Come this way, fellow. Where have you been? From mine own house, good lady. You have some suit for the minister, have you not? That I have, lady. If it will please him, I shall beseech him to befriend himself. Why? Know you any harms intended toward him? None that I know will be, much that I fear.

my chance good morrow to you i must go in i me how weak a thing the heart of woman is oh Brutus, the heavens speed you in your enterprise. Run, Lucius, and commend me to my husband. Say I am Mary. Come to me again and bring me word what he did say to you. Madam? The odds of March have come. Aye, Brother Minister. But not gone. Here, sir. Read this note. Wait.

Trebonius does desire you to read at your best leisure this his humble suit. Read mine first, for mine's more suited that it fits the brother minister better. Read it, sir. What is best fit for my taste shall be last served. What urge you your petitions in the streets? Go to the temple. I wish your enterprise today may thrive. What enterprise, Popeles? Fare you well.

What said Papillius, Lena? He wished today our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovering. Look how he makes to the Brother Minister. Observe. Casca, be ready. Do not feel prevention. I'm ready. Brutus, what shall be done? Cassius be constant. Trebonius knows his time. For look you, Brutus.

He draws Mark Antony out of the way. I am listening. I am listening, please. Decious, where is Metellus Simba? Let her go and presently proffer her suit to our brother. She is addressed. Press near and second her. Remember, you are the first that wears your hand. Are we all ready? What is now wrong that we must set right, dear brothers? Most high and most loyal, Minister. Metellus Simba throws before your seat a humble heart. I must prevent you, Simba.

These kneelings and these bumbling courtesies might fire the blood of ordinary men and turn what settled law and first decree into the games of children. Don't be fooled. to think that I bear such rebel blood that will be thawed from its brisk quality with that which melts fools. I mean flattery. Low crooks, bowing and base puppy fawning. Thy brother by decree is banished. If you shall bend and pray and fawn for him, I'll boot you like a cur out of my way. No, I'm not unjust, nor without cause.

and will not grant repeal of this sentence. Is there no voice more worthy than my own to sound more sweetly in your ear for the repealing of my own banished brother? I kiss your hand, but not in flattery, Brother Minister. Please desire that Publius Simbur may have immediate freedom. Why, Brutus? Pardon him, Minister. Brother, pardon.

As low as to your foot do I to drop to beg enfranchisement for public Simba. I could be quite moved if I were like you. If I could pray to move, prayers would move me. But I'm as constant as the northern star, of whose true fixed and resting quality there is no equal in the firmament. The skies are painted with innumerable sparks. They are all aflame, and everyone shines bright.

but there's but one, and all doth hold his place. So in the world, tis furnished well with men, and men are flesh and blood and indecisive. Yet in that number I do know but one. that unassailable holds on his rank unshaken of motion and that i am he let me a little show it even in this that i was constant simba should be banished And Constance still remained to keep himself. Get your hand out of my pocket! Away, Senate! Aren't there enough with the world on my shoulders? Somebody sing tonight!

And sing well. Oh, Caesar. Wait. Does not Brutus Boopless kneel? Speak hands. For me! Et tu, Blu-Tek? Then fall Caesar We did this for freedom We are one of us too! Liberty! We did this! Liberty! For all of us! Yes! Yes! We understand! We're one of you! Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! We killed tyranny! some to the pews to the pulpits cry out liberty freedom and enfranchisement. People and senators, be not affrighted. Fly not. Stand still. Ambition's debt is paid.

Go to the podium, Brutus. And Cassius, too. Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar should chance. Talk not of standing, Metellus. Publius, good cheer. There is no harm intended to your being, nor to anyone else. So tell them, Publius. And leave us, Publius, lest that the people rushing on us should do your life some mischief. Do so, and let no man bear this deed but we, the proud doers. Where is Antony?

fled to his house amazed. Men, wives, and children stare, cry out and run as it were doomsday. Fates, we will know your pleasures, but we shall die, we know. Tis but the time and drawing days out that men gamble on. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life cuts off as many years of fearing death. Grant that, and then death is a benefit. So are we his brothers that have abridged his time of fearing death. Stoop! Men, stoop!

and let us bathe our hands in his hot blood up to the elbows and wipe his spill on our shirts. Then... Walk we forth down the streets, waving our red weapons o'er our heads as if they were placards. Let's cry peace, freedom, and liberty like the forefathers. Stoop then. and wash. In many ages hence shall this our lofty scene be acted over in states unborn and accents yet unknown. How many times shall he bleed and sport no earthy of dust?

So often shall the gang of us be called the men that gave their country liberty. Hold! Who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel. Thus did Martin Antony bid me fall down. And being prostrate, thus he bid me say, if Brutus will reveal that... Antony may safely come to him and be resolved how Caesar hath deserved to lie in death.

Antony shall not love Caesar dead so well as Brutus living, but will follow the fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus throughout the hazards of this untrod moment with all true faith. So says my master, Antony. Thy master is a wise and valid Roman. I never thought him worse. Tell him... So please him, come unto this place, he shall be satisfied, and by my honor depart untouched.

I know that we shall have him well to friend. I wish we may. But yet I have a mind that fears him much. And my misgivings still fall far too close. To home. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. Oh, mighty Caesar. Do you lie so low? Are all your conquests, glories, your spoils shrunk to this little measure? Fare you well. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. Who else must still be bled? Who else is rank?

If I myself there is no hour so fit as Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument of half that worth as those your swords made rich with the most noble blood of all this world. I do beseech you, if you bear me ill now, whilst your bloodied hands do wreak in smoke, fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, and I shall not find myself so fit to die.

No place will please me so, no means of death, as here by Caesar and by you cut off the movers and the shakers of this age. Oh, Antony, beg not your death of us. though now we must appear bloody and cruel as by our hands and this our present act you see we do yet you see just our hands and this the butcher's business they have done our hearts you see not

They are pitiful and pity to the general wrong of Rome has done this deed on Caesar for your part. To you, our swords have rounded tips, Mark Antony, our arms both strong and cruel.

and our hearts of brotherly love do receive you in with all kind love good thoughts and reverence your vote shall be as strong as any man's in the reordering of the new state only Be patient till we have appeased the ringing throne beside themselves with fear, and then we will deliver you the grounds why I, who did love Caesar when I struck him, have thus proceeded. I don't doubt your wisdom. Let each man offer me his bloody hand. First, Marcus Brutus, I will shake with you. Peace. Next.

Caius Cassius, do I take your hand. Now, Decius Brutus, yours. Now yours, Metellus. Yours, Senna. And my valiant Casca, yours. Though last not least in love, yours, good Trebonius. Gentlemen all. Alas, what shall I say? My credit now stands on such slippery ground that one of two bad ways you must regard me, either a coward or a flatterer.

That I did love you, Caesar, oh, tis true. If then your spirit look upon us now, shall it not wound you greater than your death to see your Antony making his peace? shaking the bloody fingers of your foes? O Caesar, in the presence of thy corpse! Had I as many eyes as you have wounds, weeping as fast as they stream forth your blood, it would become me better than to join in terms of friendship with your enemies. Forgive me, Julius.

Here were you cut down, brave heart. Here did you fall. And here your hunters stand, marked by your death and stained by your blood, how like a deer pierced by many princes. Do you lie here? Mark Antony. Pardon me, Caius Cassius. The enemies of Caesar shall say this. So from a friend, it's sober moderation. I don't blame you for praising Caesar so, but what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be sworn in number of our friends or shall we leave and not depend on you?

Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed swayed from the point by looking down on Caesar. Friends, am I with you all and love you all upon this hope that you shall give me reasons why. and wherein Caesar was dangerous. Or else were this a savage spectacle. Our reasons are so full of good regard that were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, you would be satisfied. That's all I seek and am moreover suing that I may produce his body to the marketplace and in the pulpit.

As he becomes a friend, speak in the order of his funeral. You shall, Mark Antony. 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? By your pardon. I will myself into the pulpit first and show the reason of our Caesar's death. What Antony shall speak, I will insist he speaks by leave and my permission. And that we are contented, Caesar shall have all true rights and law.

It shall advantage more than do us wrong. I know not what may fall, and I don't like it. Mark Antony, here, you take Caesar's body. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, but speak all good you can devise of Caesar and say you do it by our permission, else you shall not have any hand at all about his funeral. and you shall speak in the same pulpit to where I am going after my speech has ended. Be it so, I do desire no more. Prepare the body then and follow us.

Oh, pardon me, you bleeding piece of earth, that I am meek and gentle with these butchers. You are the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived within the scope of time. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood. Over your wounds now I do prophesy, which like mute mouths do ope their ruby lips as if to beg the voice and utterance of my tongue. A curse!

shall light upon the limbs of men. Domestic fury and fierce civil strife shall hinder all the parts of our country. Blood and destruction shall be so in use and deadly objects so familiar that mothers shall but smile when they behold their infants ripped apart with the hands of war. All pity choked with custom of deadly deeds and Caesar's spirit spoiling for revenge. With Satan by his side, come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch's voice cry,

Havoc! And let slip the dogs of war. That this foul deed shall smell above the earth with rotting men groaning for burial. You work for Octavius Caesar, do you not? I do, Mark Antony. Caesar did right for him to come. He did receive his letters and his coming, and bid me say to you by word of mouth, Your heart is full. Go find a spot and weep. Passion I see is catching. For my eyes, seeing those beads of sorrow drip from yours, bring mine to water.

Is your master coming? He lies tonight within 21 miles of our fair city. Ride back with speed and tell him what has chanced. Here is morning a dangerous place. No city of safety for Octavius yet. Hurry back and tell him so, yet stay a while. You shan't ride back till I have borne this corpse into the streets.

There shall I try in my oration how the people take the cruel issue of these bloody men, according to which you shall impart to young Octavius of the state of things. Come, lend me your hand. Hi, this is Sally Cade Holmes, Managing Director of Next Chapter Podcasts, here to tell you about a pretty cool new offering from our friends at Apollo Podcasts. You can now find the play on podcasts on Apollo Plus, a creator-owned platform where...

free subscriber helps audio fiction creators such as us. You can listen ad free early access to exclusives, behind the scenes, super cuts, and more on Apollo plus. On top of all that, 70% of the revenue on Apollo Plus goes directly to creators. Join Apollo Plus through the Apollo Podcasts app or by going to ApolloPods.com. Be patient till the end. Romans, countrymen and lovers, hear me for my calls and be silent so you may hear.

Believe me for my honor and take my honor to heart so that you may believe. Be wise when you will. Criticize and keep your minds open. that you may the better judge me. If there are any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rolls against Caesar, this is my reason. Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome.

Would you rather Caesar were living and die all enslaved than that Caesar were dead to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him. As he was fortunate, I rejoice at it. As he was valiant, I honor him. But as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love. Joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. Who is here so lowly that he would be indentured? If any speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any speak.

For him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak for him. Have I offended? I pause for reply. None, Brutus. None. None? None? No, not me. None. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the annals of history. His glory not inflated where he was worthy, nor his offenses concealed for which he suffered death. There he is. Here comes his body.

mourned by Mark Antony who though he had no hand in his death shall receive the benefit of his dying a place in the commonwealth as which of you shall not with this I depart that as I slew my best friend for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself when it shall please my country to need my death. I am fallen to his house. Give him a statue with his ancestors. Let him be Caesar. Caesar's better part shall be crowned in...

Good countrymen, let me depart alone. And for my sake, stay here with Antony. Do grace to Caesar's corpse and grace his speech, tending to Caesar's glories. which Mark Antony, by our permission, is allowed to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, save I alone, till Antony have spoken.

For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. What does he say of Brutus? He says, for Brutus' sake, he finds himself beholding to us all. For Brutus' sake. For best he speak no harm of Brutus' sake. That Caesar was a tyrant. Yes. He won. Yeah. Nay, that's certain. We're blessed that we're rid of that brother ministry. Peace. Let us hear what Anthony can say. You gentlemen. He's home. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones. So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it was so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Caesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, for Brutus is an honorable man, and so are they all, all honorable men, I come to speak at Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful, and just to me. But Brutus says he was ambitious. And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, whose ransoms did the general coffers fill. Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When did the poor have cried, Caesar had wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. You all did see that on the holiday I thrice presented him in a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse was this ambition. Yet Brutus says,

he was ambitious and sure he is an honorable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause. What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? Oh judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts when men have lost their reason. Bear with me. My heart is in the coffin with Caesar, and I must take a beat till it comes back to me. I think there is much reason in his sake.

If you consider rightly the matter, Caesar has done great wrong. Has he, masters? I fear there will worse come in his place. Mark you his words, he would not take the crown. Therefore, tis certain he was not ambitious. If it be true, some will suffer dear for it. Or so, his eyes are red as fire weeping. There's not a nobler man in Rome than it. Now listen!

He begins again to speak. Just yesterday, the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. Now he lies there, and none so humble to revere him. Oh, brethren! If I were disposed to stir your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, who you all know are such honorable men. I will not do them wrong. I'd rather choose to wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, than I would wrong such honorable men.

But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar. I found it in his closet. Tis his will. Let but the people hear this testament, which, pardon me, I do not mean to read. For they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds and dip their napkins in his sacred blood. Yea, beg a hair of him for memory and dying mention it within their wills, bequeathing it as a rich legacy unto their children. Have patience gentle friends I must not read it. It is not fit you know how Caesar loved you.

You are not wood. You are not stones, but men. And being men, hearing the will of Caesar, it will inflame you. It will make you mad. Tis good you know not that you are his heirs. For if you should, oh, what would come of it? Read the will. Read the will. You shall read us the will. Caesar's will. Read it. Will you be patient? Will you stay a while?

I've gone beyond my place to tell you of it. I fear I wronged the honorable men whose daggers have stabbed Caesar. I do fear it. They were traitors! They were traitors! The will, Antony! Will you compel me then to read it? Yes! Yes, we want to hear it! And let me show you him that made the well. Okay. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this garment. I remember the first time ever Caesar put it on. It was on a summer's evening in his tent.

That day he did march ere long in the streets. Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through. See what a rent the envious Casca made. Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed. And as he plucked his cursed steel away, mark how the blood of Caesar followed it, as rushing out of doors to ascertain if Brutus so unkindly knocked or knocked. For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. Judge ye gods how dearly Caesar loved...

This was the most unkindest cut of all. For when the noble Caesar saw him stabbed, ingratitude more strong than traitor's arms quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart, and with his mantle muffling up his face, even at the base of the cross, which all the while ran red, great Caesar fell. Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen. Then I and you and all of us fell down. Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. Oh, now you weep. And I perceive you feel the power of pity.

These are gracious drops, kind souls. What weep you when you but behold our Caesar's clothing wounded. Look you here, here is himself. Scarred as you see with traitors. Good friends. Let me not stir you up to such a sudden flood of me They that have done this deed What private griefs they have, alas, I know not what made them do it. They are all wise and honorable and will no doubt with reason answer you.

I come not friends to steal away your hearts. I am no orator as Brutus is. But as you know me all, a plain blunt man that loved my friend. and that they know full well that gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit nor words nor worth. action nor utterance nor the power of speech to stir men's blood i only speak straight on i tell you that which you yourselves do know

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb gapes, and bid them speak for me. But where are Brutus and Brutus Antony? That being Antony would ruffle up your spirits and put tongue to every wound of Caesar that should move even the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. my friends you go to do you know wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your love. Alas, you know not. I must tell you then, you have forgot the will I told you of. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. Hear me with patience.

Moreover, he has left you all this dream. That one day, the sons of slaves and the sons of slave owners will sit at the table of brotherhood. That children will live in a room where they will be judged by the content of their character. That every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain made low. the rough places plain, the crooked straight, and the glory of God shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it thereafter and pass it down to their offspring.

Here lies a king. There will never be another. Now let my words work mischief, they are afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt. How now, fellow? Sir, Artavius has already come to Rome. Where is he? He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house, and thither will I straight to visit him. He comes as I hope. Fortune is happy, and in this mood will give us anything. I heard him say.

Rudus and Cassius have been like madmen through the gates of Rome. Perhaps they had some whisper of the people, how I had moved them. Bring me to Artelius. I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar and things unlucky charged my fantasy. I have no will to wander forth outdoors yet. Something has led me here. What is your name? Where are you going? Where do you live? Answer everyone directly. Aye, and briefly. Aye, and wisely. Aye, and truly you were best.

What is your name? Where am I going? Where do I dwell? Then to answer everyone. Directly and briefly, wisely and truly. Directly. I'm going to Caesar's funeral. As a friend or an enemy? As a friend. For your dwelling. Briefly. Briefly. I dwell by the temple. Your name, Miss Truly? Truly, my name is Sina. Tear her to pieces! She's a conspirator! Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I am Sina. The poet. Soy Sina la Poeta. Terrible bad verses and spoken word. I am not Sina the Conspirator.

I rhyme. It doesn't matter. Her very name is that of a sinner. Pluck, put her name out of her heart and send her off. Tear her, tear her to bits and pieces. Yeah! Nothing. No! These many then shall die. Their names are pricked. Your brother, too, must die. You consent, 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 this Mark I damn him. But Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house. Fetch the will hither. and we shall determine how we might reroute the flow of Caesar's alms. Later. Shall I find you here? Here or at the temple? Gentlemen. This is a slight unmeritable man, apt to be sent on errands. Is it fit? The threefold world divided, he should stand one of the three to share it. So you thought him.

and took his counsel on who'd be pricked to die in our black sentence book and prescription. Octavius, I have seen more days than you, and though we laid these honors on this man to ease ourselves of varied slanderous charges... He shall but bear them like the mule to a golden plow, to groan and sweat under the encumbrance, either led or driven as we point the way. And having brought our treasure where we will, we then take down his load and set him free. You may do your will.

But he's a tried and fearless soldier. So is my horse, Octavius. And for that I do provide him all the hay he wants. He is a creature that I teach to fight, to whine, to stop, to run directly on. his physical motion governed by my spirit, and in some manner so is Lepidus. He must be taught and trained and bid go forth, a barren-spirited fellow. Do not talk of him but as a property.

But now, Octavius, hear greater things. Brutus and Cassius are levying powers as we too must do. Therefore, let our alliance be combined. our best friends coaxed, our means outstretched, and let us presently go sit in council, how covert matters may be best obtained, and open peril's surest answer. Let us do so.

For we are at the stake, surrounded by our many enemies, whose smiles brandished teeth as sharp as the daggers they used to cut our king to pieces. I fear they are up to anything but good. What now, Lucilius? Is Cassius near? He is at hand, and Penderus has come to bid you salutation from his master. He greets me well. Your master, Penderus, through his own chain.

Sure, by bad officers, has given me some worthy cause to wish things done undone. But if he is at hand, I shall have true account. I do not doubt but that my noble master will appear such as he is. Full of regard and honor. He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius. How he received you, let me be resolved. With courtesy and with respect enough, but not with such familiar instances.

nor with such free and friendly conference as he was wont to do. You have described a hot friend cooling. Keep in mind, Lucilius, when love begins to sicken and decay, it uses an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith, but empty men... like horses hot at hand make gallant show and promise of their mettle but when they should endure the bloody spur they drop their crests and like deceitful jades sink in the trial comes his army near

They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered. The greater part, the horse in general, are come with caches. Hark, you've arrived. Most noble, brother. You have done me wrong. Judge me God? No? Wrong I my enemies? And if not so, how could I wrong a brother? Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, and when you do them... Cassius, be content. Speak your grease softly. We know each other well.

Before the eyes of both our armies here, which should perceive nothing but love from us, let us not quarrel. Bid them move away. Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs and I will give you audience. Tenderous. Bid our commanders lead their soldiers off a little from this ground. Lucilius, do you as much and let no man come to our tent till we have done our conference. That you have wronged me doth appear in this.

You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella for taking bribes here, wherein my letter is preying on his side because I knew the man was innocent. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. In such a time as this, it is not right that every small offense should bear censure. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm to sell and trade your offices for gold to undeservers. Ah, an itching palm?

You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, or God knows this speech were else your last. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, and chastisement does therefore hide its head. Chastisement? Remember March? The Ides of March remember. Did not Great Caesar bleed for justice' sake?

What villain touched his body that did stab and not for justice? What shall one of us that struck the foremost man of all this world stand for supporting robbers? Shall we now... contaminate our fingers with base bribes and sell the mighty space of our large honors for so much trash as may be grasped with us? I had rather be a dog and bathe a moon than such a Roman. Brutus bait me not. I'll not endure it.

You forget yourself to hedge me in. I am a soldier. I older in practice and abler than yourself to make conditions. Get out! You are not, Cassius. Oh, but 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 it so? Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash collar? Shall I be frightened with a madman's stares? Oh, you... God.

God, God, why must I endure all this? All this? Yes, and more. Rage till your proud heart break. Go show your men how ill-tempered you are and make them tremble. Must I flinch? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch under your testy humor? God, you shall digest the venom of your spleen, though it will split you, for from this day forth I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, since you are waspish. Has it come to this?

You say you are a better soldier, then let me see it. Make your boasting true, and it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noblemen. You wrong me in every way. You wrong me, Brutus. I said an elder soldier, not a better. Did I even say better? If you did, I care not. Even when Caesar lived, he dared not move me thus. Peace! Peace. You durst not have tempted himself. I dared not? No! What?

Dare not tempt him? For your life you dared not. You're much, but not a fool. Do not presume too much upon my love. You may force my hand to do which I shall be sorry for. You have done that which you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, for I am armed so strong in honesty that they pass by me as if idle wind which I respect not. I did send to you for certain sums of gold which you denied me.

For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart and drop my blood for pennies than to wring from the hard hands of peasants their pittances by any misdirection. did send to you for gold to pay my legions, which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius? Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous to lock...

such wretched paltry sums from friends, be ready, heaven, with all your thunderbolts, dash him to vapors. I denied you not. You did! I did not! He was but a fool that brought my answer back. Brutus has stabbed my heart. A friend. should bear his friend's infirmities, but Brutus makes mine greater than they are. I do not till you practice them on me. You love me not. I do not love your faults.

A friendly eye could never see such faults. A flatterers would not, but your faults do appear as huge as mountains in that they mount up. Come, Antony and young Octavius, come. Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, for Cassius is quite weary of the world. Hated by the one he loves, defied by his brother, berated like a stepchild. All his faults displayed inked in a notebook, learned and taught by rote to throw back in his face. I...

could weep my spirit from my eyes. There is my dagger. And here, my naked breast. Within, a heart. Dearer than my own mother is mine richer than gold if that you are a man Take it forth that denied the gold will give you my heart. Strike as you did Caesar, for I know when you hated him worse, you loved him more than you ever loved me. Gah! Sheethe your dagger. Be angry when you will. You shall have space. Do what you will. Dishonor shall be humor.

Cassius, you are better a lamb to the pyre than I, who carries anger as the flint bears fire, who much in force it shows a hasty spark and soon is cold again. Have Cassius lived? To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus when grief and blood ill-tempered needles him? When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. And my heart, too. What's the matter? Not you love enough to bear with me when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful?

Yes, Cassius. And from here on, when you are over-earnest with your Brutus, I'll think your mother chides and leave you so. Sir. Ah, Lucilius and Titinius. Task the commanders prepare to camp their companies tonight. Sir. And come yourselves and bring Masala with you immediately to us. We shall. We shall. Lucius! Sir. Bring a jug of wine. Indeed. I did not think you could have been so angry. Oh, Cassius, I am sick from many sorrows.

From your stoic beliefs, you glean no use if you give latitude to chance misfortunes. No man bears more sorrow than I. My Porsche's dead. Your Portia? Aye. She is dead. Why? How escaped I murder when I crossed you so? Oh, irreplaceable and poignant loss! Upon what sickness had she? Anxious of my absence, and grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony have made themselves so strong, for with her death those tidings came. With this she fell morose and lonely.

and cold thence she swallowed hot coals and died so even so oh ye mirth of god Sir? Speak no more of her. Give me the jug of wine. In this I shall drown all unkindness, Cassius. My heart's been thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill Lucius till the wine ore spilled the cup. Sir? I cannot drink enough of my Brutus love. Come in, Titinius. Welcome, good Pesala, sir. Sir? Now sit me close about this candle here and analyze our present pressing needs. Portia, are you really gone? No more, I pray you.

Masala, I have here received letters that young Octavius and Mark Antony come down upon us with a mighty army bending their expedition toward Philippi. Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor. With what edition? That by some legal writs and bills of artillery, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus have put to death a hundred men. Now there our letters do not well agree. Mine speak of seventy that died by their prescriptions, Cicero being one. Cicero too?

Cicero is dead, and by that order of prescription. Had you your letters from your wife, sir? No, Mycela. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? Nothing, Mycela. That I think is strange. Why ask you? Hear you news of her and yours? No, sir. Now as you are my friend, tell me true. Then like a friend bear the truth I tell for certain she is dead. And by strange manner. Then...

Farewell, Portia. We all die, Masala, with meditating that she must die once I have the patience to endure it now. And thusly, great men, great losses should endure. I have as much of stoic thought as you, and yet my nature could not bear it so. Let's work toward the living. What say you of marching toward the enemy presently? I do not think it good. Your reason? This is it. It's better that the enemy seek us.

so shall he waste his means, exhaust his soldiers, doing himself damage, while we, lying still, are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. Good reasons must a force give place to better. The people between the enemy and this ground do stand but in a forced affection, for they have grudgingly contributed. the enemy marching along by them shall gain by them a fuller number up and join refreshed new added and encouraged from which advantage shall we cut him off if we do face him near the city

These people at our back. Hear me, good brother. Under your pardon. You must note beside that we have tried the utmost of our friends. Our legions are brimful. Our cause is ripe. The enemy increases every day. we at the height are ready to decline no there is a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the crest leads on to fortune omitted all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries

On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current for when it serves or lose our ventures. Then with your will go on. We'll along ourselves and meet them at the city. There is no more to say? No more. Good night. Early tomorrow we'll rise and depart. Lucius. Sir. My robe. Yes, sir. Farewell, good Macella. Good night, Titinius. Good night. Noble, noble Cassius. Good night and good repose. Oh, my dear brother. This was an ill beginning of the night.

Never come such division tween our souls. Let it not, Brutus. Sir, your robe? Everything is well. Good night, my friend. Good night, good brother. Good night, brother Brutus. Farewell, everyone. Farewell. Farewell, sir. Give me the robe. Where's your instrument? Here, in the tent. What? You murmur drowsily? Poor boy, I blame you not. You are overtired. Call Claudio and some other of my men. I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

Varus and Claudio. Calls us, sir. I pray you all lie in my tent and sleep. It may be I shall wake you by and by on business to my brother Cassius. So please, you. We will stand and watch at your pleasure. I will not have it so. Lie down, good sirs. If not, it may be I shall change my mind. Look, Lucius. Here's the book I sought for, so I put it in the pocket of my robe. I was sure your lordship did not give it me. Bear with me, good boy. I am much forgetful. I will not hold you long.

If I do live, I will be good to you. Hmm. Let me see. Let me see. Has not the leaf turned down where I left reading? Here it is, I think. Hmm. How ill this candle burns. Hey! Who comes here? I think it is the weakness of my eyes that shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me. Are you anything? Are you some god? An angel? Or the devil that turns my blood cold and my hair to stand? Speak to me what you are! Your evil spirit, Brutus. Why come you?

To tell you, you shall see me in the city. Well, then I shall see thee again? Aye, at Philippa. As yet, Philippi, then. Now I have taken heart, you vanish! Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee! Lucius, awake! Y-yes, sir. Did you see anything? Nothing, sir. Sleep again, Lucius. Philo, wake up! My brother. My brother. Why did you cry out, sirs, in your sleep? Did we? Saw you anything? No, sir. I saw nothing. No, I, sir. Go and commend me to my brother, Cassius.

Bid him advance his forces before Cox Crow and we will follow. It shall be done. Oh Antony, our hopes are answered. You said the enemy would not come down but keep the hills and upper regions. It proves not so. Their forces are at hand. They mean to test us here prior to what we do demand of them.

In fact, I am in their bosoms and I know the reason they do it. They really wish they were someplace else and come down with fearful bravery thinking by this face to fasten in our thoughts that they have courage. But tis not so. Words before blows? Is it so, countryman? Not that we love words better, as you do. Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words. Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart crying, long live, hail Caesar. Antony, the posture of your blows are yet unknown. But for your words, they rob nectar from bees and leave them honeyless. Not stingless, too? Mm, yes, and sound. for you have stolen their buzzing, Antony, and very wisely threat before you sting. Villains! You did not so when your vile daggers hacked one another in the sides of Caesar.

You showed your teeth like apes, and fawned like hounds, and bowed like servants, kissing Caesar's feet, whilst damned Casca, like a cur behind, struck Caesar on the neck. Oh, you flatterers! Battlers? Now, Brutus, thank yourself. This Tong had not offended so today if Cassius might have ruled. Come, come, the cause. If arguing makes us sweat, the real trial will turn those drops to blood. Look, I draw a sword against conspirators. When do you think the sword gets sheathed again? Never.

till Caesar's three and thirty wounds be well avenged, or till another Caesar have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. Caesar, you cannot die by traitors' hands unless you brought them with you. So I hope. I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. If you were the noblest of your strain, young man, you couldn't die more honorably. A peevish schoolboy. Worthless of such honor. Join with a bon vivant and party boy. Same old Cassius. Come, Antony, away. Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your smile.

If you dare fight today, come to the field. If not, when you have stomachs. Why now, blow wind, swell bellow and swim wood. The storm is up and all is on the peril. Oh, Lucilius, hark. A word with you. Yes, sir. Masala! What says my general? Masala, this is my birthday, as on this very day was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Masala. Be my witness that against my will I am compelled to place upon one battle all our liberties. Believe not so. Ah, but believe it partly, for I am fresh of spirit.

and resolved to meet all perils unwaveringly. Now, most noble Brutus. The gods today stand friendly that we may, lovers of peace, live to an old age. But since affairs of men still rest uncertain, less reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this battle, then is this the very last time we shall speak together? What are you then determined to do?

Even by the rule of that philosophy by which I did blame Cato for the death which he did give himself, I know not why, but I do find it cowardly and vile for fear of what might fall. so to prevent the time of life. And if we lose this battle, are you contented to be led and triumphed through the streets of Rome? No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman, that ever Brutus will go bound. He bears too great a mind, but this same day must end the work the Ides of March began.

And whether we shall meet again, I know not. Therefore, our everlasting farewell take. Forever and forever farewell, Cassius. If we do meet again, why, we shall smile. If not, why then, this parting was well made. Forever and forever farewell, Brutus. If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed. If not, tis true this parting was made well. Why then lead on.

that a man might know the end of this day's business ere it come, but it suffices that the day will end, and then the end is known. Come back away! Sir? Ride. Ride, Macella. Ride and give these bills unto our legions on the other side. Have them advance at once, for I can sense a fearful manner in Octavio's wing. and sudden push gives us the overthrow. Ride! Ride, Masella! Let them all come down! Copy, sir.

Look Titinius, look the villains fly. Myself have to my own turned enemy. This ensign here of mine was turning back. I slew the... cowered and took the flag from him. Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early, who having some advantage on Octavius, took it too eagerly. The soldiers fell to loot. whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. Fly further off, my lord. Fly further off, Mark. Antony is in your tents, sir. Fly therefore, noble Cassius, far off. This hill is far enough.

Look, Titinius, are those my tents where I perceive the fire? They are, sir. Titinius, if you love me. Mount you my horse and hide your spurs in him till he has brought you up to yonder troops and here again that I may rest assured whether those troops are friend or enemy. I will be here again. As quick as a thought. Go Penderous. Get higher on that hill. My eyes were ever marred.

Observe Titinius and tell me what you view about the field. My lord. This day I breathe my first breath. Times come round. And where I did begin, there shall I end. My life is upon his compass. Penderous, what news? My lord. What news? Titinius is enclosed round by the horsemen that ride to him on the spur, yet he spurs on. Oh, now they are almost on him. Now, now, Titinius, now, oh, now some speed. Oh, he lights too. He's taken. And hark.

They shout for joy. Come down, behold no more. Oh, coward that I am. to live so long to see my best friend taken before my face. Come closer, Pinders. In Parthia did I take you prisoner, and then I swore to you, save for your life, that whatsoever I did bid you do, you must attempt. Come now, keep your oath.

Now be a freeman, and with this good sword that ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. Stand not to answer, hear take you the hilts, and when my face is covered as tis now, guide you the sword. Even with the sword that killed thee. So, I am free. Yet would not so have been, dare I have done my will. Cassius. Far from this country, Pindarus shall run, where never Roman shall take note of him. It is but changed, Titinius.

For Octavius is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, and Cassius' legions are by Antony. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. Is not that he that lies upon the ground? He lies not like the living. Oh, my heart. Is not that he? No. This was he, Masala. but Cassius is no more. O setting sun, as in your red rays you do sink tonight, so in his red blood Cassius' day is done. Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. Oh, hateful heir!

Melancholies, child, why do you show to the apt thoughts of men the things that are not? O heir, premature. What Pindarus? Where are you, Pindarus? Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet the noble Brutus thrusting this report into his ears. Hurry, Masala, and I will seek for Pinders the Wild. Farewell. Why did you send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet your friends? It did not they put on my brows this wreath of victory and bid me give it you.

Did you not hear their shouts? Alas, you have misconstrued everything. But hold on. Take this garland on your breath. Your Brutus bid me give it you, and I will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, and see how I regarded Caius Cassius. By your leave Oh God, this is a Roman spot Come cash a sword and find Titinius heart Ugh! Where Masala does his body lie? There yonder, and Titinius mourning it. Titinius' face is upward. He is slain. Caesar, you are mighty yet.

Your spirit walks abroad and turns our swords in our own proper entrails. Brave Titinius. Look where he has not crowned dead Cassius. Are yet- two Romans living such as these, the last of all the Romans fare you well. It is impossible that ever Rome should breed your equal. Friends, I owe more tears to this dead man than you shall see me pay. I shall find time, Cassius. I shall find time. Come, young Kato, let us to the field.

Labio and Flavio, set our battles on. We shall, my lord. Yes, sir. It is three o'clock. At Romans, yet ere night, we shall try fortune in a second fight. What bastard does not who will go with me I will proclaim my name about the field My country's friend. Know me as Buddhist. Oh, yum. And noble Cato, are you down? I know you die as bravely as Titinius. May be honored being Cato's son. Yield! Or you die!

to die. Kill Brutus and be honored in his death. We must not. A noble prisoner. Room home. Tell Anthony Brutus is caught. I'll tell the news. Here comes the general. Brutus is caught! Brutus is caught, sir! Where is he? This is not Brutus, friend, but I assure you applies no lesson worth. Keep this man safe. Go on. and see where Brutus be alive or dead, and bring us word unto Octavius' tent how everything is chanced.

Come, poor remains of friends. Rest on this rock. Mr. Tilly has showed the torchlight, but he came not back. He has taken her slain. Sit you down, Cletus. Slaying is the word. It is a deed in fashion. Argue, Pletus. Listen to me. I want you to hold my sword hilt while I run on. What? I, old friend? No. Not for all the world. Peace, then. No words. I'd rather kill myself. Hark you, Dardanius. Listen. Listen. Listen to me. I want you...

Just listen. Just hold my sword. You don't have to kill me. I will do it. Shall I do such a deed? What ill-request did Judas make to thee? To kill him, Letus. Look, he meditates. Now is that noble vessel full of grief? And it runs over even at his eyes. Come here, good Volumnius. Do listen. What says here? Why this, Volumnius? The ghost of Caesar has appeared to me two several times by night, at Sardis once, and his last night here in Philippi Fields. I know my hour is come. Not so.

Nay, I am sure it is, Valonius. You see the world, Valonius, how it goes. Our enemies have beat us to the pit. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves than linger till they push us. Good Volumnius, you know that we two studied together. Even for that our love of old, I pray you, hold you my sword hilt whilst I run on it. That's not an office for a friend, dear brother.

Fly, fly, my lord. There was no tarrying here. Farewell to you. And you. And you, Tholomious. Lucius. You have been all this while asleep. Farewell to you too, Lucius. Countrymen, my heart delights that yet in all my life I found no man who were untrue to me. I shall have glory by this losing day. More than Octavius and Mark Antony, then this vile conquest shall accumulate. So fare you well at once, for Brutus' tongue has almost ended his life's story. Night hangs upon mine eyes.

My bones would rest that have much length to attain this hour. Go on! I will follow. Stay you by my side. You are a fellow of good respect whose life has had a taste of honor in it. Hold then my sword and turn away your face while I do run upon it. Will you, Lucius? Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my... friend. Farewell, but you just... Caesar! I'll be still. I killed not thee with half.

What man is that? My master's man. Lucius, where's your master? Free from the bondage you are in, Masala. The conquerors can but make a fire of him, for Brutus only overcame himself. and no man else hath honor by his death. So Brutus should be found. I thank you, Brutus, but you have proved Lucilius' saying true. All that served Brutus? I will take them in. He was the noblest of them all. All the conspirators save only he did what they did in envy of great Caesar. He only with an honest heart.

thought to do the common good to all. His life was gentle and the elements so mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world, this was a man. When he planted himself behind the pulpit, His round face was that of a child, and he did both listen and love with the same heart. To lead he had no desire, but to follow a truth was his aim, even at the cost of soiling one who was closer than a brother.

According to his virtue, let us use him, with all respect and rights of burial. Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie, most like a soldier, ordered honorably. So call the field to rest and let's away. Depart the glories of this happy day. The Play On Podcast series Julius Caesar was written by William Shakespeare and translated into modern English verse by Shashia Korump. All episodes were directed by Harry Lennox. Radio play by Marcus Gargley.

The cast is as follows. Michael Pox as Julius Caesar. Glenn Davis as Mark Antony. Jeremy Tardy as Marcus Brutus. Lester Perry as Caius Cassius and Lagarius. Megan Boone as Portia, Metellus Simba, and others. Janelle Kennedy as Calpurnia, Lucius, and others. Christopher May as Casca, Titinius, Volumnius, and others. James T. Alfred as Cicero, Morellus, Publius, Artemidorus, Lucius, Lepidus, and others. Namuna Sisek as Octavius. Miracle Laurie as Massalis.

Decius Brutus and others. Charlique Rowe as Senna, Soothsayer, Senna the Poet, Pandarus, Dardanius and others. Brandon Jones as Flavius Trebonius and others. Casting by the Telsey office, Karen Castle, CSA. Voice and text coach, Julie Fogg. Original music composition, mix and sound design by Lindsay Jones. Sound engineering and mixing by Sataharu Yagi. Mix engineer and dialogue editor, Larry Walsh. Podcast mastering by Greg Cortez at New Monkey Studio.

Coordinating producer Transcend Streaming, Kira Bowie and Liana Keyes. Executive producer Michael Goodfrey. The Play On Podcast series, Julius Caesar, is produced by Next Chapter Podcasts and is made possible by the generous support of the Hitz Foundation. Visit nextchapterpodcasts.com for more about the Play On Podcast series.

Visit playonshakespeare.org for more about Play on Shakespeare. Subscribe to Play on Premium on Apollo Plus for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcast.com for our bonus content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers, and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember, beware the Ides of March. Join PlayOn Premium to get merch like t-shirts, hoodies, and coffee mugs.

ad-free episodes and bonus content video featuring interviews with the actors, producers, playwrights, and directors who brought it all to life. Go to ncpodcasts.com and subscribe to Play On Premium to support the art and the artist. Next chapter podcasts.