Julius Caesar, Act 4, Scene 3

That you have wrong’d me doth appear in this: You have condemn’d and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letters, praying on his side Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

That you have wronged me is clear from this: you have condemned and publicly disgraced Lucius Pella for taking bribes here from the Sardians; and my letters, pleading on his behalf because I knew the man, were brushed aside.

You wrong’d yourself to write in such a case.

You wronged yourself by writing in such a case.

In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offence should bear his comment.

At a time like this it isn't right that every small offence should get its own criticism.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn’d to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are widely accused of having an itching palm, of selling and trading your offices for gold to people who don't deserve them.

I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

I have an itching palm! You know it's Brutus who says this, or, by the gods, this speech would be your last.

The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

The name of Cassius lends honour to this corruption, and so punishment hides its head.

Chastisement!

Punishment!

Remember March, the Ides of March remember: Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake? What villain touch’d his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What! Shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

Remember March, remember the Ides of March: did not great Julius bleed for the sake of justice? What villain who stabbed him touched his body for anything but justice? What! Shall one of us, who struck down the foremost man in all this world only because he supported robbers, shall we now dirty our fingers with cheap bribes, and sell the vast expanse of our great honours for as much rubbish as can be gripped in a hand like this? I would rather be a dog and howl at the moon than be such a Roman.

Brutus, bait not me, I’ll not endure it. You forget yourself, To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions.

Brutus, don't bait me, I won't put up with it. You forget yourself, trying to fence me in. I am a soldier, I am, longer in practice, better able than you to arrange terms.

Go to; you are not, Cassius.

Come now; you are not, Cassius.

I am.

I am.

I say you are not.

I say you are not.

Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther.

Push me no further, or I'll forget myself; think of your own safety, don't provoke me any more.

Away, slight man!

Get away, you worthless man!

Is’t possible?

Is it possible?

Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Listen to me, because I will speak. Must I give way and make room for your reckless temper? Am I to be frightened when a madman glares?

O ye gods, ye gods! Must I endure all this?

Oh you gods, you gods! Must I put up with all this?

All this? ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; Go show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.

All this? Yes, and more: fume until your proud heart bursts. Go and show your slaves how badly you lose your temper, and make your servants tremble. Must I give way? Must I wait on you? Must I stand and cringe under your irritable mood? By the gods, you will swallow the poison of your own bad temper, even if it splits you open; because from this day on, I'll use you as my amusement, yes, as my joke, whenever you turn spiteful.

Is it come to this?

Has it come to this?

You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

You say you are the better soldier: let it show, then; make your boasting true, and it will please me well. For my own part, I'll be glad to learn from noble men.

You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus. I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say better?

You wrong me in every way, you wrong me, Brutus. I said an older soldier, not a better one. Did I say better?

If you did, I care not.

If you did, I don't care.

When Caesar liv’d, he durst not thus have mov’d me.

When Caesar was alive, he wouldn't have dared to provoke me like this.

Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

Quiet, quiet! You wouldn't have dared to test him like that.

I durst not?

I wouldn't have dared?

No.

No.

What? durst not tempt him?

What? I wouldn't have dared to provoke him?

For your life you durst not.

Not for your life would you have dared.

Do not presume too much upon my love. I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Don't count too much on my affection. I may do something I'll be sorry for.

You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm’d so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the 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 drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? Should I have answer’d Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, Dash him to pieces!

You have already done something you should be sorry for. There is no terror in your threats, Cassius, for I am so strongly armoured in honesty that they blow past me like an idle wind that I take no notice of. I sent to you for certain sums of gold, which you refused me; for I can raise no money by disgraceful means. By Heaven, I would rather mint my own heart and drip my blood into coins than squeeze from the hard hands of peasants their miserable pennies by any crooked method. I sent to you for gold to pay my legions, and you refused me: was that behaving like Cassius? Would I have answered Caius Cassius that way? When Marcus Brutus grows so greedy that he locks up such worthless coins from his friends, then be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, and smash him to pieces!

I denied you not.

I did not refuse you.

You did.

You did.

I did not. He was but a fool That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv’d my heart. A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities; But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

I did not. The man who brought my answer back was only a fool. Brutus has split my heart open. A friend should put up with his friend's weaknesses; but Brutus makes mine out to be bigger than they are.

I do not, till you practise them on me.

I don't, until you use them against me.

You love me not.

You don't love me.

I do not like your faults.

I don't like your faults.

A friendly eye could never see such faults.

A friendly eye could never see such faults.

A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

A flatterer's eye wouldn't, even if they looked as huge as high Olympus.

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the world: Hated by one he loves; brav’d by his brother; Check’d like a bondman; all his faults observ’d, Set in a note-book, learn’d and conn’d by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold: If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth. I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, take your revenge on Cassius alone, for Cassius is tired of the world: hated by one he loves; defied by his brother; scolded like a slave; all his faults watched for, written down in a notebook, memorised and learned by heart, to be thrown in my face. Oh, I could weep my spirit out through my eyes! There is my dagger, and here is my bare chest; inside it a heart more precious than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: if you are a Roman, take it out. I, who refused you gold, will give you my heart. Strike as you struck at Caesar; for I know that when you hated him most, you loved him better than you ever loved Cassius.

Sheathe your dagger. Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.

Put your dagger away. Be angry whenever you like, it will have free rein; do whatever you like, and I'll treat insults as just your mood. Oh Cassius, you are harnessed with a lamb who carries anger the way a flint carries fire: struck hard, it shows a quick spark, and immediately goes cold again.

Hath Cassius liv’d To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief and blood ill-temper’d vexeth him?

Has Cassius lived only to be a joke and a laughing-stock to his Brutus, when sorrow and a disordered temper torment him?

When I spoke that, I was ill-temper’d too.

When I said that, my temper was out of order too.

Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

Do you admit that much? Give me your hand.

And my heart too.

And my heart as well.

O Brutus!

Oh Brutus!

What’s the matter?

What's the matter?

Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful?

Haven't you enough love to put up with me when that hasty temper my mother gave me makes me forget myself?

Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Yes, Cassius; and from now on, when you are too heated with your Brutus, he'll think it's your mother scolding, and leave you at that.

[Within.] Let me go in to see the generals, There is some grudge between ’em; ’tis not meet They be alone.

[Offstage.] Let me go in to see the generals. There's some quarrel between them; it isn't right that they should be alone.

[Within.] You shall not come to them.

[Offstage.] You shall not go near them.

[Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

[Offstage.] Nothing but death will stop me.

How now! What’s the matter?

What now! What's the matter?

For shame, you generals! What do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; For I have seen more years, I’m sure, than ye.

Shame on you, you generals! What do you think you're doing? Love each other and be friends, as two such men should be; for I've seen more years than you two, I'm certain.

Ha, ha! How vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

Ha, ha! What wretched rhyming this cynic makes!

Get you hence, sirrah. Saucy fellow, hence!

Get out of here, fellow. Insolent man, out!

Bear with him, Brutus; ’tis his fashion.

Put up with him, Brutus; that's his way.

I’ll know his humour when he knows his time. What should the wars do with these jigging fools? Companion, hence!

I'll allow for his moods when he knows the right moment for them. What use has war for these rhyme-jingling fools? Off with you, fellow!

Away, away, be gone!

Away, away, be gone!

Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies tonight.

Lucilius and Titinius, tell the commanders to get ready to quarter their companies tonight.

And come yourselves and bring Messala with you Immediately to us.

And come back yourselves and bring Messala with you to us at once.

Lucius, a bowl of wine.

Lucius, bring a bowl of wine.

I did not think you could have been so angry.

I didn't think you could get so angry.

O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

Oh, Cassius, I am sick with many sorrows.

Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils.

You're making no use of your philosophy, if you give way to the evils that come by chance.

No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.

No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.

Ha? Portia?

What? Portia?

She is dead.

She is dead.

How ’scap’d I killing, when I cross’d you so? O insupportable and touching loss! Upon what sickness?

How did I escape being killed, when I crossed you like that? Oh, what an unbearable and heartbreaking loss! What illness was it?

Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong; for with her death That tidings came. With this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow’d fire.

She couldn't bear my absence, and she grieved that young Octavius and Mark Antony had made themselves so strong; for that news came at the same time as her death. With this she went out of her mind, and, while her servants were away, she swallowed fire.

And died so?

And died that way?

Even so.

Just so.

O ye immortal gods!

Oh, you immortal gods!

Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

Say no more about her. Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all bad feeling, Cassius.

My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, till the wine o’erswell the cup. I cannot drink too much of Brutus’ love.

My heart is thirsty for that noble toast. Fill it up, Lucius, until the wine spills over the cup. I can't drink too much of Brutus' love.

Come in, Titinius! Welcome, good Messala. Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities.

Come in, Titinius! Welcome, good Messala. Now let us sit close around this candle here, and discuss what we need to do.

Portia, art thou gone?

Portia, are you gone?

No more, I pray you. Messala, I have here received letters, That young Octavius and Mark Antony Come down upon us with a mighty power, Bending their expedition toward Philippi.

No more, please. Messala, I have received letters here saying that young Octavius and Mark Antony are coming down against us with a huge force, directing their march toward Philippi.

Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor.

I have letters saying exactly the same thing.

With what addition?

With anything added?

That by proscription and bills of outlawry Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus Have put to death an hundred Senators.

That by decrees of proscription and notices of outlawry Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus have put a hundred Senators to death.

Therein our letters do not well agree. Mine speak of seventy Senators that died By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.

On that point our letters don't agree. Mine say seventy Senators died by their proscriptions, Cicero being one of them.

Cicero one!

Cicero one of them!

Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

Cicero is dead, and by that same decree of proscription. Did you get letters from your wife, my lord?

No, Messala.

No, Messala.

Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

And nothing written about her in your letters?

Nothing, Messala.

Nothing, Messala.

That, methinks, is strange.

That, it seems to me, is strange.

Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours?

Why do you ask? Do you hear anything about her in yours?

No, my lord.

No, my lord.

Now as you are a Roman, tell me true.

Now, as you are a Roman, tell me the truth.

Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell, For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.

Then bear the truth I tell you like a Roman, for she is certainly dead, and in a strange way.

Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala. With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now.

Well then, goodbye, Portia. We all must die, Messala. By thinking about the fact that she had to die sometime, I have the patience to endure it now.

Even so great men great losses should endure.

That is how great men should endure great losses.

I have as much of this in art as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so.

I have as much of this in theory as you do, but still my nature could not bear it that way.

Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?

Well, back to the work of the living. What do you think about marching to Philippi at once?

I do not think it good.

I don't think it's a good idea.

Your reason?

Your reason?

This it is: ’Tis better that the enemy seek us; So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence, whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.

It's this: it's better that the enemy come looking for us; that way he'll use up his supplies, tire out his soldiers, and do himself harm, while we, staying where we are, are well rested, well defended, and quick to move.

Good reasons must of force give place to better. The people ’twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forced affection; For they have grudg’d us contribution. The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, Come on refresh’d, new-added, and encourag’d; From which advantage shall we cut him off If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back.

Good reasons must necessarily give way to better ones. The people between Philippi and this ground support us only because they are forced to; they have resented paying us contributions. The enemy, marching along past them, will use them to build up his numbers, and will arrive refreshed, reinforced, and encouraged. We shall cut him off from that advantage if we face him at Philippi, with these people behind us.

Hear me, good brother.

Listen to me, good brother.

Under your pardon. You must note besides, That we have tried the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe. The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, 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 when it serves, Or lose our ventures.

Excuse me. You must note besides that we have drawn the most we can from our friends, our legions are full to the brim, our cause is ripe. The enemy grows stronger every day; we, at our peak, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, caught at the flood, leads on to good fortune; missed, the whole voyage of their life is trapped in shallows and miseries. We are now afloat on such a full sea, and we must ride the current while it serves us, or lose what we have risked.

Then, with your will, go on: We’ll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

Then, as you wish, go ahead: we'll march there ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity, Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say?

The dead of night has crept up on our talking, and our bodies must obey necessity, which we will satisfy stingily with a little rest. Is there nothing more to say?

No more. Good night: Early tomorrow will we rise, and hence.

Nothing more. Good night. Early tomorrow we will get up and be off from here.

Lucius! My gown.

Lucius! My gown.

Farewell now, good Messala. Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose.

Farewell now, good Messala. Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, good night, and sleep well.

O my dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night. Never come such division ’tween our souls! Let it not, Brutus.

Oh, my dear brother! This was a bad start to the night. May such a split never come between our souls again! Don't let it, Brutus.

Everything is well.

Everything is fine.

Good night, my lord.

Good night, my lord.

Good night, good brother.

Good night, good brother.

Good night, Lord Brutus.

Good night, Lord Brutus.

Farewell, everyone.

Farewell, everyone.

Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

Give me the gown. Where is your instrument?

Here in the tent.

Here in the tent.

What, thou speak’st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not, thou art o’er-watch’d. Call Claudius and some other of my men; I’ll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

What, you're speaking sleepily? Poor boy, I don't blame you, you've been kept awake too long. Call Claudius and some others of my men; I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

Varro and Claudius!

Varro and Claudius!

Calls my lord?

Does my lord call?

I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep; It may be I shall raise you by-and-by On business to my brother Cassius.

Please, gentlemen, lie down in my tent and sleep. It may be that I'll wake you shortly to send you on business to my brother Cassius.

So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure.

If it pleases you, we will stay on our feet and wait for your orders.

I will not have it so; lie down, good sirs, It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here’s the book I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown.

I won't have that; lie down, good men, it may be that I'll change my mind. Look, Lucius, here's the book I was looking for so hard; I had put it in the pocket of my gown.

I was sure your lordship did not give it me.

I was sure your lordship hadn't given it to me.

Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

Be patient with me, good boy, I'm very forgetful. Can you keep your heavy eyes open a while and play a tune or two on your instrument?

Ay, my lord, an’t please you.

Yes, my lord, if it pleases you.

It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

It does, my boy. I trouble you too much, but you are willing.

It is my duty, sir.

It is my duty, sir.

I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

I shouldn't push your duty beyond your strength; I know young bodies need a time of rest.

I have slept, my lord, already.

I have already slept, my lord.

It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long. If I do live, I will be good to thee.

That was well done, and you shall sleep again; I won't keep you long. If I live, I will be good to you.

This is a sleepy tune. O murd’rous slumber, Layest thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break’st thy instrument; I’ll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn’d down Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

This is a sleepy tune. Oh murderous sleep, are you laying your leaden club on my boy, who plays music for you? Gentle lad, good night; I won't wrong you so much as to wake you. If you nod off, you'll break your instrument; I'll take it from you; and, good boy, good night. Let me see, let me see; isn't the page folded down where I stopped reading? Here it is, I think.

How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me. Art thou anything? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That mak’st my blood cold and my hair to stare? Speak to me what thou art.

How badly this candle burns! Ha! Who's coming here? I think it's the weakness of my eyes that gives shape to this monstrous apparition. It's coming toward me. Are you a real thing? Are you some god, some angel, or some devil, that makes my blood run cold and my hair stand on end? Tell me what you are.

Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

Your evil spirit, Brutus.

Why com’st thou?

Why have you come?

To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

To tell you that you will see me at Philippi.

Well; then I shall see thee again?

All right; so I shall see you again?

Ay, at Philippi.

Yes, at Philippi.

Why, I will see thee at Philippi then.

Well then, I will see you at Philippi.

Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius!

Now that I've gathered my courage, you vanish. Evil spirit, I would talk with you more. Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Wake up, men! Claudius!

The strings, my lord, are false.

The strings, my lord, are out of tune.

He thinks he still is at his instrument. Lucius, awake!

He thinks he's still at his instrument. Lucius, wake up!

My lord?

My lord?

Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?

Were you dreaming, Lucius, that you cried out like that?

My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

My lord, I'm not aware that I cried out.

Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything?

Yes, you did. Did you see anything?

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing, my lord.

Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius! Fellow thou, awake!

Go back to sleep, Lucius. You there, Claudius! You, fellow, wake up!

My lord?

My lord?

My lord?

My lord?

Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?

Why did you cry out like that in your sleep, men?

Did we, my lord?

Did we, my lord?

Ay. Saw you anything?

Yes. Did you see anything?

No, my lord, I saw nothing.

No, my lord, I saw nothing.

Nor I, my lord.

Nor did I, my lord.

Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow.

Go and give my greetings to my brother Cassius; tell him to move his forces out early, ahead of us, and we will follow.

It shall be done, my lord.

It shall be done, my lord.