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He was quick mettle when he went to school.
Ca.s.sIUS. So is he now in execution Of any bold or n.o.ble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form.
This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appet.i.te.
BRUTUS. And so it is. For this time I will leave you.
Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you, or, if you will, Come home to me and I will wait for you.
Ca.s.sIUS. I will do so. Till then, think of the world.
Exit Brutus.
Well, Brutus, thou art n.o.ble; yet, I see Thy honorable mettle may be wrought From that it is disposed; therefore it is meet That n.o.ble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus.
If I were Brutus now and he were Ca.s.sius, He should not humor me. I will this night, In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name, wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at.
And after this let Caesar seat him sure; For we will shake him, or worse days endure. Exit.
SCENE III.
A street. Thunder and lightning.
Enter, from opposite sides, Casca, with his sword drawn, and Cicero.
CICERO. Good even, Casca. Brought you Caesar home?
Why are you breathless, and why stare you so?
CASCA. Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, I have seen tempests when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam To be exalted with the threatening clouds, But never till tonight, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world too saucy with the G.o.ds Incenses them to send destruction.
CICERO. Why, saw you anything more wonderful?
CASCA. A common slave- you know him well by sight- Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand Not sensible of fire remain'd unscorch'd.
Besides- I ha' not since put up my sword- Against the Capitol I met a lion, Who glaz'd upon me and went surly by Without annoying me. And there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw Men all in fire walk up and down the streets.
And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noonday upon the marketplace, Howling and shrieking. When these prodigies Do so conjointly meet, let not men say "These are their reasons; they are natural": For I believe they are portentous things Unto the climate that they point upon.
CICERO. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time.
But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
Comes Caesar to the Capitol tomorrow?
CASCA. He doth, for he did bid Antonio Send word to you he would be there tomorrow.
CICERO. Good then, Casca. This disturbed sky Is not to walk in.
CASCA. Farewell, Cicero. Exit Cicero.
Enter Ca.s.sius.
Ca.s.sIUS. Who's there?
CASCA. A Roman.
Ca.s.sIUS. Casca, by your voice.
CASCA. Your ear is good. Ca.s.sius, what night is this!
Ca.s.sIUS. A very pleasing night to honest men.
CASCA. Who ever knew the heavens menace so?
Ca.s.sIUS. Those that have known the earth so full of faults.
For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, Submitting me unto the perilous night, And thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, Have bared my bosom to the thunderstone; And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open The breast of heaven, I did present myself Even in the aim and very flash of it.
CASCA. But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?
It is the part of men to fear and tremble When the most mighty G.o.ds by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.
Ca.s.sIUS. You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman you do want, Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder To see the strange impatience of the heavens.
But if you would consider the true cause Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, Why old men, fools, and children calculate, Why all these things change from their ordinance, Their natures, and preformed faculties To monstrous quality, why, you shall find That heaven hath infused them with these spirits To make them instruments of fear and warning Unto some monstrous state.
Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night, That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars As doth the lion in the Capitol, A man no mightier than thyself or me In personal action, yet prodigious grown And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.
CASCA. 'Tis Caesar that you mean, is it not, Ca.s.sius?
Ca.s.sIUS. Let it be who it is, for Romans now Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors.
But, woe the while! Our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.
CASCA. Indeed they say the senators tomorrow Mean to establish Caesar as a king, And he shall wear his crown by sea and land In every place save here in Italy.
Ca.s.sIUS. I know where I will wear this dagger then: Ca.s.sius from bondage will deliver Ca.s.sius.
Therein, ye G.o.ds, you make the weak most strong; Therein, ye G.o.ds, you tyrants do defeat.
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten bra.s.s, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides, That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure. Thunder still.
CASCA. So can I.
So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity.
Ca.s.sIUS. And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf But that he sees the Romans are but sheep.
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire Begin it with weak straws. What trash is Rome, What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves For the base matter to illuminate So vile a thing as Caesar? But, O grief, Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this Before a willing bondman; then I know My answer must be made. But I am arm'd, And dangers are to me indifferent.
CASCA. You speak to Casca, and to such a man That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand.
Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest.
Ca.s.sIUS. There's a bargain made.
Now know you, Casca, I have moved already Some certain of the n.o.blest-minded Romans To undergo with me an enterprise Of honorable-dangerous consequence; And I do know by this, they stay for me In Pompey's Porch. For now, this fearful night, There is no stir or walking in the streets, And the complexion of the element In favor's like the work we have in hand, Most b.l.o.o.d.y, fiery, and most terrible.
Enter Cinna.
CASCA. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.
Ca.s.sIUS. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait; He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so?
CINNA. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?
Ca.s.sIUS. No, it is Casca, one incorporate To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?
CINNA. I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.
Ca.s.sIUS. Am I not stay'd for? Tell me.
CINNA. Yes, you are.
O Ca.s.sius, if you could But win the n.o.ble Brutus to our party- Ca.s.sIUS. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the praetor's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window; set this up with wax Upon old Brutus' statue. All this done, Repair to Pompey's Porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?
CINNA. All but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
Ca.s.sIUS. That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre.
Exit Cinna.
Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day See Brutus at his house. Three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter yields him ours.
CASCA. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts, And that which would appear offense in us, His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness.
Ca.s.sIUS. Him and his worth and our great need of him You have right well conceited. Let us go, For it is after midnight, and ere day We will awake him and be sure of him. Exeunt.
ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Brutus in his orchard. BRUTUS. What, Lucius, ho!