Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 1

The Ides of March are come.

The fifteenth of March has come.

Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

Yes, Caesar, but it isn't over.

Hail, Caesar! Read this schedule.

Greetings, Caesar! Read this document.

Trebonius doth desire you to o’er-read, At your best leisure, this his humble suit.

Trebonius asks you to look over this humble request of his whenever you have time.

O Caesar, read mine first; for mine’s a suit That touches Caesar nearer. Read it, great Caesar.

Caesar, read mine first, because mine is a request that concerns Caesar more closely. Read it, great Caesar.

What touches us ourself shall be last serv’d.

Whatever concerns me personally will be dealt with last.

Delay not, Caesar. Read it instantly.

Don't put it off, Caesar. Read it right now.

What, is the fellow mad?

What, is the man mad?

Sirrah, give place.

You there, get out of the way.

What, urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol.

What, are you pushing your petitions here in the street? Come to the Capitol.

Caesar enters the Capitol, the rest following. All the Senators rise.

Caesar goes into the Capitol, and the others follow. All the Senators stand up.

I wish your enterprise today may thrive.

I hope your undertaking today goes well.

What enterprise, Popilius?

What undertaking, Popilius?

Fare you well.

Goodbye.

What said Popilius Lena?

What did Popilius Lena say?

He wish’d today our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered.

He said he hoped our undertaking today would go well. I'm afraid our plan has been found out.

Look how he makes to Caesar: mark him.

Look how he's heading for Caesar: watch him.

Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention. Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, For I will slay myself.

Casca, be quick, because we're afraid of being stopped. Brutus, what should we do? If this is known, either Cassius or Caesar will never go home again, because I'll kill myself.

Cassius, be constant: Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; For look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.

Cassius, keep steady. Popilius Lena isn't talking about our plans. Look, he's smiling, and Caesar's expression doesn't change.

Trebonius knows his time, for look you, Brutus, He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

Trebonius knows when to act, because look, Brutus, he's drawing Mark Antony away.

Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.

Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go and put his request to Caesar at once.

He is address’d; press near and second him.

He's ready. Crowd in close and back him up.

Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

Casca, you're the first to raise your hand.

Are we all ready? What is now amiss That Caesar and his Senate must redress?

Are we all ready? What is wrong now that Caesar and his Senate must put right?

Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart.

Most high, most mighty, and most powerful Caesar, Metellus Cimber lays a humble heart down before your chair.

I must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance and first decree Into the law of children. Be not fond, To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood That will be thaw’d from the true quality With that which melteth fools; I mean sweet words, Low-crooked curtsies, and base spaniel fawning. Thy brother by decree is banished: If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him, I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. Know, Caesar dost not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied.

I have to stop you before you start, Cimber. This bowing and these grovelling courtesies might stir up the blood of ordinary men, and turn decisions already made and settled law into rules that children make up. Don't be foolish enough to think that Caesar has blood so unruly that it can be thawed out of its true nature by the things that melt fools — I mean sweet words, low bent bows, and the cringing of a dog. Your brother is banished by decree. If you bow and beg and fawn for him, I'll kick you out of my way like a mongrel. Understand, Caesar does no wrong, and he will not be satisfied without good reason.

Is there no voice more worthy than my own, To sound more sweetly in great Caesar’s ear For the repealing of my banish’d brother?

Is there no voice worthier than mine to sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear, asking for my banished brother to be called home?

I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar; Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may Have an immediate freedom of repeal.

I kiss your hand, but not as flattery, Caesar. I ask you to let Publius Cimber be recalled from exile immediately.

What, Brutus?

What, you too, Brutus?

Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon: As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon. Cassius falls as low as your foot to beg freedom for Publius Cimber.

I could be well mov’d, if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me: But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumber’d sparks, They are all fire, and every one doth shine; But there’s but one in all doth hold his place. So in the world; ’tis furnish’d well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshak’d of motion: and that I am he, Let me a little show it, even in this, That I was constant Cimber should be banish’d, And constant do remain to keep him so.

I could easily be moved, if I were like you; if I could beg to move others, begging would move me. But I am as unchanging as the north star, which for steadiness and fixed position has no equal in the sky. The skies are painted with countless sparks; they are all fire, and every one of them shines, but there is only one of them all that keeps its place. It's the same in the world: it's well stocked with men, and men are flesh and blood, and capable of understanding. Yet out of all of them I know only one who holds his position beyond attack, unshaken by anything that stirs. And that I am that man, let me show a little, even in this: that I was firm that Cimber should be banished, and I stay firm in keeping him so.

O Caesar,—

Caesar—

Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?

Away! Are you going to lift up Olympus?

Great Caesar,—

Great Caesar—

Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

Isn't Brutus kneeling with no effect?

Speak, hands, for me!

Hands, speak for me!

Et tu, Brute?—Then fall, Caesar!

Et tu, Brute?—Then fall, Caesar!

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run from here, announce it, shout it through the streets.

Some to the common pulpits and cry out, “Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!”

Some of you go to the public platforms and shout, "Liberty, freedom, and release from tyranny!"

People and Senators, be not affrighted. Fly not; stand still; ambition’s debt is paid.

People and Senators, don't be frightened. Don't run away; stand still; ambition has paid what it owed.

Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

Go to the speaker's platform, Brutus.

And Cassius too.

And Cassius too.

Where’s Publius?

Where's Publius?

Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

Here, completely stunned by this uproar.

Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar’s Should chance—

Stay close together, in case some friend of Caesar's happens—

Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer! There is no harm intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else. So tell them, Publius.

Don't talk about standing together. Publius, cheer up! No harm is meant to you, or to any other Roman. Tell them that, Publius.

And leave us, Publius; lest that the people Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.

And leave us, Publius, in case the people rush at us and hurt an old man like you.

Do so; and let no man abide this deed But we the doers.

Do that, and let no one answer for this act except us who did it.

Where’s Antony?

Where's Antony?

Fled to his house amaz’d. Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run, As it were doomsday.

He's fled to his house in shock. Men, wives, and children are staring, crying out, and running as if it were the end of the world.

Fates, we will know your pleasures. That we shall die, we know; ’tis but the time And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

Fates, we'll find out what you want. That we're going to die, we know; it's only the timing, and stretching the days out, that men care about.

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Well, the man who cuts twenty years off a life cuts off that many years of fearing death.

Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Caesar’s friends, that have abridg’d His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Caesar’s blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: Then walk we forth, even to the market-place, And waving our red weapons o’er our heads, Let’s all cry, “Peace, freedom, and liberty!”

Grant that, and then death is a favour. So we are Caesar's friends, since we have shortened his time of fearing death. Bend down, Romans, bend down, and let's dip our hands in Caesar's blood up to the elbows, and smear our swords with it. Then let's walk out, all the way to the market place, and waving our red weapons over our heads, let's all shout, "Peace, freedom, and liberty!"

Stoop then, and wash. How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In States unborn, and accents yet unknown!

Bend down then, and wash. How many ages from now will this grand scene of ours be performed again, in nations not yet born and languages not yet known!

How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey’s basis lies along, No worthier than the dust!

How many times will Caesar bleed in a play — Caesar, who now lies stretched out at the base of Pompey's statue, worth no more than dust!

So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be call’d The men that gave their country liberty.

Every time that happens, our group will be called the men who gave their country its freedom.

What, shall we forth?

Well, shall we go out?

Ay, every man away. Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.

Yes, everyone move off. Brutus will lead, and we'll follow at his heels as an honour guard of the boldest and best hearts in Rome.

Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony’s.

Wait, who's coming here? A friend of Antony's.

Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel; Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving; Say I love Brutus and I honour him; Say I fear’d Caesar, honour’d him, and lov’d him. If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him, and be resolv’d How Caesar hath deserv’d to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead So well as Brutus living; but will follow The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus Thorough the hazards of this untrod state, With all true faith. So says my master Antony.

Brutus, my master told me to kneel like this; Mark Antony told me to fall down like this; and, lying flat, he told me to say this: Brutus is noble, wise, brave, and honourable; Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving. Say that I love Brutus and honour him; say that I feared Caesar, honoured him, and loved him. If Brutus will grant that Antony may come to him safely and be told how Caesar deserved to be killed, Mark Antony will not love the dead Caesar as much as he loves the living Brutus, but will follow the fortunes and business of noble Brutus through all the dangers of this untried situation, with complete loyalty. That's what my master Antony says.

Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman; I never thought him worse. Tell him, so please him come unto this place, He shall be satisfied and, by my honour, Depart untouch’d.

Your master is a wise and brave Roman; I never thought any worse of him. Tell him that, if he cares to come to this place, he will have his answers, and, on my honour, will leave unharmed.

I’ll fetch him presently.

I'll bring him at once.

I know that we shall have him well to friend.

I know we'll have him as a good friend.

I wish we may: but yet have I a mind That fears him much; and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose.

I hope we may; but still I have a mind that fears him a great deal, and my misgivings always turn out harshly right.

But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.

But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.

O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, 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 ye, if you bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die. No place will please me so, no means of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age.

Oh mighty Caesar! Do you lie so low? Are all your conquests, glories, triumphs and spoils shrunk to this small space? Farewell. I don't know, gentlemen, what you intend, who else must be bled, who else is overripe. If it is to be me, there is no time so right as the hour of Caesar's death, and no weapon half so worthy as those swords of yours, made rich with the noblest blood in all the world. I beg you, if you have a grudge against me, now, while your crimsoned hands still steam and smoke, do what you want with me. If I live a thousand years, I'll never find myself so ready to die. No place will suit me so well, and no manner of death, as here beside Caesar, cut down by you, the finest and leading spirits of this age.

O 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 see you but our hands And this the bleeding business they have done. Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; And pity to the general wrong of Rome— As fire drives out fire, so pity pity— Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony; Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts Of brothers’ temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.

Oh Antony, don't beg your death from us. Though we must now look bloody and cruel — as by our hands and this deed of ours you see we do — yet you see only our hands and the bleeding work they have done. You don't see our hearts; they are full of pity. And it was pity for the general wrong done to Rome — as one fire drives out another, so pity drove out pity — that did this to Caesar. As for you, our swords have blunt, leaden points for you, Mark Antony. Our arms, strong as their malice was, and our hearts, with a brother's warmth, take you in with all kind love, good thoughts, and respect.

Your voice shall be as strong as any man’s In the disposing of new dignities.

Your vote will count as much as any man's in handing out the new offices.

Only be patient till we have appeas’d The multitude, beside themselves with fear, And then we will deliver you the cause Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him, Have thus proceeded.

Only be patient until we have calmed the crowd, who are out of their minds with fear, and then we will explain to you the reason why I, who loved Caesar even as I struck him, have acted like this.

I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand. First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand. Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus; Yours, Cinna; 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 conceit me, Either a coward or a flatterer. That I did love thee, Caesar, O, ’tis true: If then thy spirit look upon us now, Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death, To see thy Antony making his peace, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, Most noble, in the presence of thy corse? Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, It would become me better than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies. Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay’d, brave hart; Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand, Sign’d in thy spoil, and crimson’d in thy lethe. O world, thou wast the forest to this hart; And this indeed, O world, the heart of thee. How like a deer strucken by many princes, Dost thou here lie!

I have no fear of your wisdom. Let each man give me his bloody hand. First, Marcus Brutus, I'll shake hands with you; next, Caius Cassius, I take your hand. Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus; yours, Cinna; and, my brave Casca, yours; though last, not least in affection, yours, good Trebonius. Gentlemen all — alas, what shall I say? My reputation now stands on such slippery ground that you must think of me in one of two bad ways, either as a coward or as a flatterer. That I loved you, Caesar, oh, that is true. If, then, your spirit is watching us now, won't it hurt you more deeply than your death to see your Antony making his peace, clasping the bloody fingers of your enemies — and that, most noble one, in the presence of your corpse? If I had as many eyes as you have wounds, weeping as fast as your wounds pour out your blood, it would suit me better than to come to terms of friendship with your enemies. Forgive me, Julius! Here you were cornered, splendid stag; here you fell; and here your hunters stand, marked with the signs of your killing and reddened in your blood. Oh world, you were the forest to this stag; and he indeed, oh world, was the heart of you. How like a deer struck down by many princes you lie here!

Mark Antony,—

Mark Antony—

Pardon me, Caius Cassius: The enemies of Caesar shall say this; Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

Forgive me, Caius Cassius. Even Caesar's enemies will say this much; so in a friend it is chilly restraint.

I blame you not for praising Caesar so; But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prick’d in number of our friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

I don't blame you for praising Caesar so; but what agreement do you mean to make with us? Will you be listed among our friends, or shall we go on without relying on you?

Therefore I took your hands; but was indeed Sway’d 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.

That is why I took your hands; but I was indeed carried off the point by looking down at Caesar. I am friends with you all, and love you all, on this hope: that you will give me reasons why, and in what way, 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 should be satisfied.

Otherwise this would be a savage sight. Our reasons are so thoroughly sound that even if you, Antony, were Caesar's son, you would be satisfied.

That’s all I seek, And am moreover suitor that I may Produce his body to the market-place; And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral.

That's all I ask, and I also request permission to bring his body out into the market place and, from the platform, as a friend should, speak as part of his funeral rites.

You shall, Mark Antony.

You shall, Mark Antony.

Brutus, a word with you. [Aside to Brutus.] You know not what you do. Do not consent That Antony speak in his funeral. Know you how much the people may be mov’d By that which he will utter?

Brutus, a word with you. [Aside to Brutus.] You don't know what you're doing. Don't agree to let Antony speak at his funeral. Do you realise how much the people may be stirred by what he'll say?

[Aside to Cassius.] 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 protest He speaks by leave and by permission; And that we are contented Caesar shall Have all true rights and lawful ceremonies. It shall advantage more than do us wrong.

[Aside to Cassius.] Excuse me: I will go up onto the platform first myself, and explain the reason for our Caesar's death. Whatever Antony says, I'll declare that he speaks with our leave and permission, and that we are content for Caesar to have all the proper rites and lawful ceremonies. It will do us more good than harm.

[Aside to Brutus.] I know not what may fall; I like it not.

[Aside to Brutus.] I don't know what may happen; I don't like it.

Mark Antony, here, take you 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’t by our permission; Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral. And you shall speak In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended.

Mark Antony, here, take Caesar's body. In your funeral speech you are not to blame us, but say all the good of Caesar you can think of, and say that you do it with our permission; otherwise you'll have no part at all in his funeral. And you'll speak from the same platform I am going to, after my speech is finished.

Be it so; I do desire no more.

Let it be so; I ask for nothing more.

Prepare the body, then, and follow us.

Get the body ready, then, and follow us.

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, Which, like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips 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 cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quartered with the hands of war; All pity chok’d with custom of fell deeds: And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate 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 carrion men, groaning for burial.

Oh, forgive me, you bleeding piece of earth, that I am mild and gentle with these butchers. You are the ruins of the noblest man who ever lived in the whole course of time. Curse the hand that shed this precious blood! Over your wounds I now prophesy — your wounds, which like silent mouths open their red lips to beg my tongue for a voice and for speech — that a curse will fall on the bodies of men. Fury at home and savage civil war will burden every part of Italy. Blood and destruction will be so common, and horrifying sights so familiar, that mothers will only smile when they see their babies cut to pieces by the hands of war; all pity strangled by the habit of cruel deeds. And Caesar's spirit, roaming in search of revenge, with Ate at his side come burning from Hell, will in these borders, with a king's voice, cry "Slaughter!" and let loose the dogs of war, so that this foul deed will stink over the whole earth with rotting corpses of men, groaning to be buried.

You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?

You serve Octavius Caesar, don't you?

I do, Mark Antony.

I do, Mark Antony.

Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.

Caesar wrote to him, telling him to come to Rome.

He did receive his letters, and is coming, And bid me say to you by word of mouth,— [Seeing the body.] O Caesar!

He did get his letters, and he is on his way, and he told me to say to you by word of mouth— [Seeing the body.] Oh Caesar!

Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming?

Your heart is swollen with grief; go aside and weep. Grief, I see, is catching; for my own eyes, seeing those tears of sorrow standing in yours, began to fill. Is your master coming?

He lies tonight within seven leagues of Rome.

He is staying tonight within about twenty miles of Rome.

Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanc’d. Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octavius yet. Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet stay awhile; Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse Into the market-place: there shall I try, In my oration, how the people take The cruel issue of these bloody men; According to the which thou shalt discourse To young Octavius of the state of things. Lend me your hand.

Ride back quickly and tell him what has happened. Here is a Rome in mourning, a dangerous Rome, no Rome that is safe for Octavius yet. Hurry off and tell him so. No, wait a while. You mustn't go back until I have carried this corpse into the market place. There, in my speech, I will test how the people take the cruel work of these bloody men, and from that you will report to young Octavius how things stand. Give me your hand.