Julius Caesar

(to the SOOTHSAYER) March 15th has come.

Yes, Caesar, but it’s not gone yet.

(offering his letter) Hail, Caesar! Read this schedule.

(offering CAESAR another paper) Trebonius wants you to look over his humble petition, at your leisure.

Oh, Caesar, read mine first, for my petition affects you more directly. Read it, great Caesar.

Whatever pertains to myself I will deal with last.

Don’t delay, Caesar. Read it instantly.

What, is the man insane?

(to ARTEMIDORUS) Stand aside, you.

(to ARTEMIDORUS) What? Are you pressing your petition on the street? Go to the Capitol.

(to CASSIUS) I hope your endeavor goes well today.

What endeavor, Popillius?

Good luck.

(to CASSIUS) What did Popillius Lena say?

(speaking so that only BRUTUS can hear) He wished that our endeavor would go well today. I’m afraid we’ve been found out.

Look, he’s approaching Caesar. Keep an eye on him.

Casca, be quick, because we’re worried we might be stopped. Brutus, what will we do? If our secret’s known, either Caesar or I will die, for I’ll kill myself.

Cassius, stand firm. Popillius Lena wasn’t talking about our plot—for, look, he’s smiling, and Caesar’s expression is the same.

Trebonius knows his cue. See, Brutus, he’s pulling Mark Antony aside.

Where’s Metellus Cimber? He should go up and offer his petition to Caesar now.

They’re speaking to him. Go up there and second his petition.

Casca, you’ll be the first to raise your hand.

Are we all ready? What problem should I discuss with you first?

(kneeling) Most high, most mighty, and most powerful Caesar, Metellus Cimber kneels before you with a humble heart—

I have to stop you, Cimber. These kneelings and humble courtesies might excite ordinary men, flattering them into turning Roman law into children’s games. But don’t be so foolish as to think you can sway me from what’s right by using the tactics that persuade fools—I mean this flattery, low bows, and puppy-like fawning. Your brother has been banished by decree. If you kneel and beg and flatter for him, I’ll kick you out of my way like I would a dog. Know that I am not unjust, and I will not grant him a pardon without reason.

Is there no voice worthier than my own to appeal to Caesar to repeal the order that my brother be banished?

(kneeling) I kiss your hand, but not in flattery, Caesar. I ask you to repeal Publius Cimber’s banishment immediately.

What, even you, Brutus?

(kneeling) Pardon him, Caesar, pardon him. I fall to your feet to beg you to restore Publius Cimber to citizenship.

I could be convinced if I were like you. If I could beg others to change their minds, begging would convince me, too. But I’m as immovable as the northern star, whose stable and stationary quality has no equal in the sky. The sky shows countless stars. They’re all made of fire, and each one shines. But only one among all of them remains in a fixed position. So it is on earth. The world is full of men, and men are flesh and blood, and they are capable of reason. Yet out of all of them, I know only one who is unassailable, who never moves from his position. To show you that that’s me, let me prove it a little even in this case. I was firm in ordering that Cimber be banished, and I remain firm in that decision.

(kneeling) Oh, Caesar—

Enough! Would you try to lift Mount Olympus?

(kneeling) Great Caesar—

Haven’t I resisted even Brutus, begging from his knees?

Hands, speak for me!

And you too, Brutus? In that case, die, Caesar.

(he dies)

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run and proclaim it in the streets.

Some should go to the public platforms and cry out, “Liberty, freedom, and democracy!”

People and senators, don’t be afraid. Don’t run away—stay where you are. Only Caesar had to die for his ambition.

Go to the platform, Brutus.

And Cassius too.

Where’s Publius?

Here. He’s completely stunned by this mutiny.

Stand close together, in case someone loyal to Caesar tries to—

Don’t talk about standing together.—Publius, cheer up. We don’t intend any harm to you, nor to anyone else. Tell them this, Publius.

And leave us, Publius, in case the people storming us should harm you.

Do so. And let no one suffer for this deed except us, the perpetrators.

Where’s Antony?

He ran to his house, stunned. Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run in the streets as though it were doomsday.

We’ll soon find out what fate has in store for us. All we know is that we’ll die sometime, which is all anyone ever knows, though we try to draw out our days for as long as possible.

Why, the man who shortens his life by twenty years cuts off twenty years of worrying about death.

So, then, death is a gift, and we are Caesar’s friends, for we’ve done him a service by shortening his time spent fearing death. Kneel, Romans, kneel, and let’s wash our hands, up to the elbows, in Caesar’s blood and smear it on our swords. Then we’ll go out, even to the marketplace, and, waving our bloody swords over our heads, let’s cry, “Peace, freedom, and liberty!”

Kneel then, and wash.

How many years from now will this heroic scene be reenacted in countries that don’t even exist yet and in languages not yet known!

How many times will Caesar bleed again in show, though he now lies at the base of Pompey’s statue, as worthless as dust!

As often as it’s replayed, our group will be hailed as the men who gave their country liberty.

Well, should we go out?

Yes, every man forward. Brutus will lead, and we’ll follow him with the boldest and best hearts of Rome.

Wait a minute. Who’s that coming? It’s a friend of Antony’s.

(kneeling) Brutus, my master ordered me to kneel like this. (he kneels, head bowed low) He ordered me to kneel low, and, from the ground, like this, he ordered me to say: “Brutus is noble, wise, brave, and honest. Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving. Antony loves Brutus and honors him. Antony feared Caesar, honored him, and loved him. If Brutus will swear that Antony may come to him safely and be convinced that Caesar deserved to be killed, Mark Antony will love dead Caesar not nearly as much as living Brutus, and with true faith he’ll follow the destiny and affairs of noble Brutus through the difficulties of this unprecedented state of affairs.” That’s what my master, Antony, says.

Your master is a wise and honorable Roman. I never thought any less of him. Tell him, if he comes here, I’ll explain everything to him and, on my word, he’ll leave unharmed.

(getting up) I’ll get him now.

I know that he’ll be on our side.

I hope we can count on him, but I still fear him, and my hunches are usually accurate.

But here comes Antony.—Welcome, Mark Antony.

Oh, mighty Caesar! Do you lie so low? Have all your conquests, glories, triumphs, achievements, come to so little? Farewell. Gentlemen, I don’t know what you intend to do, who else you intend to kill, who else you consider corrupt. If it’s me, there’s no time as good as this hour of Caesar’s death, and no weapon better than your swords, covered with the noblest blood in the world. I ask you, if you have a grudge against me, to kill me now, while your stained hands still reek of blood. I could live a thousand years and I wouldn’t be as ready to die as I am now. There’s no place I’d rather die than here by Caesar, and no manner of death would please me more than being stabbed by you, the masters of this new era.

Oh, Antony, don’t beg us to kill you. Though we seem bloody and cruel right now, with our bloody hands and this deed we’ve done, you’ve only seen our hands and their bloody business; you haven’t looked into our hearts. They are full of pity for Caesar. But a stronger pity, for the wrongs committed against Rome, drove out our pity for Caesar, as fire drives out fire, and so we killed him. For you, our swords have blunt edges, too dull to harm you, Mark Antony. Our arms, which can be strong and cruel, and our hearts, filled with brotherly love, embrace you with kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.

Your vote will be as strong as anyone’s in the reordering of the government.

But just be patient until we’ve calmed the masses, who are beside themselves with fear. Then we’ll explain to you why I, who loved Caesar even while I stabbed him, have taken this course of action.

I don’t doubt your wisdom. Each of you, give me your bloody hand. (he shakes hands with the conspirators) First, Marcus Brutus, I shake your hand. Next, Caius Cassius, I take your hand. Now, Decius Brutus, yours. Now yours, Metellus. Yours, Cinna. And yours, my brave Casca. Last but not least, yours, good Trebonius. You are all gentlemen—alas, what can I say? Now that I’ve shaken your hands, you’ll take me for either a coward or a flatterer—in either case, my credibility stands on slippery ground. It’s true that I loved you, Caesar—nothing could be truer. If your spirit is looking down upon us now, it must hurt you more than even your death to see your Antony making peace—shaking the bloody hands of your enemies—in front of your corpse. If I had as many eyes as you have wounds, and they wept as fast as your wounds stream blood—even that would be more becoming than joining your enemies in friendship. Forgive me, Julius! On this very spot you were hunted down, like a brave deer. And here you fell, where your hunters are now standing. The spot is marked by your death and stained by your blood. Oh world, you were the forest to this deer, and this deer, oh world, was your dear. Now you lie here, stabbed by many princes!

Mark Antony—

Pardon me, Caius Cassius. Even Caesar’s enemies would say the same. From a friend, it’s a cool assessment—no more than that.

I don’t blame you for praising Caesar like this, but what agreement do you intend to reach with us? Will you be counted as our friend, or should we proceed without depending on you?

I took your hands in friendship, but, indeed, I was distracted when I looked down at Caesar. I am friends with you all and love you all, on one condition—that you prove to me that Caesar was dangerous.

Without that proof, this would’ve been a savage action! Our reasons are so well considered that even if you, Antony, were Caesar’s son, you would be satisfied with them.

That’s all I ask—and that you let me carry his body to the marketplace and, as a friend ought to do, stand on the platform and give a proper funeral oration.

You may, Mark Antony.

Brutus, may I have a word with you? (speaking so that only BRUTUS can hear) You don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t let Antony speak at his funeral. Don’t you know how much the people could be affected by what he says?

(speaking so that only CASSIUS can hear) With your permission, I’ll stand on the platform first and explain the reason for Caesar’s death. What Antony says, I’ll announce, he says only by our permission and by our conviction that Caesar should be honored with all the usual and lawful ceremonies. It’ll help us more than hurt us.

(speaking so that only BRUTUS can hear) I’m worried about the outcome of his speech. I don’t like this plan.

Mark Antony, take Caesar’s body. You will not blame us in your funeral speech, but will say all the good you want to about Caesar and that you do it by our permission. Otherwise, you’ll have no role at all in his funeral. And you’ll speak on the same platform as I do, after I’m done.

So be it. I don’t want anything more.

Prepare the body, then, and follow us.

Oh, pardon me, you bleeding corpse, for speaking politely and acting mildly with these butchers! You are what’s left of the noblest man that ever lived. Pity the hand that shed this valuable blood. Over your wounds—which, like speechless mouths, open their red lips, as though to beg me to speak—I predict that a curse will fall upon the bodies of men. Fierce civil war will paralyze all of Italy. Blood and destruction will be so common and familiar that mothers will merely smile when their infants are cut to pieces by the hands of war. People’s capacity for sympathy will grow tired and weak from the sheer quantity of cruel deeds. And Caesar’s ghost, searching for revenge with the goddess Ate by his side, just up from Hell, will cry in the voice of a king, “Havoc!” and unleash the dogs of war. This foul deed will stink up to the sky with men’s corpses, which will beg to be buried.

You serve Octavius Caesar, right?

I do, Mark Antony.

Caesar wrote for him to come to Rome.

He received Caesar’s letters, and he is coming. He told me to say to you—(seeing CAESAR’s body) Oh, Caesar!—

Your heart is big; go ahead and weep. Grief seems to be contagious, for my eyes, seeing the tears in yours, began to fill. Is your master coming?

He rests tonight within twenty-one miles of Rome.

Report back to him fast and tell him what has happened. This is now a Rome in mourning, a dangerous Rome. It’s not safe enough for Octavius yet. Hurry away and tell him so. No, wait, stay a minute. Don’t go back until I’ve carried the corpse into the marketplace. There I’ll use my speech to test what the people think of these bloody men’s cruel action. You’ll report back to young Octavius how they respond. Help me here.