Julius Caesar

We want answers. Give us answers.

Then follow me and listen to my speech, friends. Cassius, go to the next street and divide the crowd. Let those who will hear me speak stay. Lead those away who will follow you, and we’ll explain publicly the reasons for Caesar’s death.

I’ll listen to Brutus.

I’ll listen to Cassius, and we will compare their reasons.

Quiet! Noble Brutus has mounted the platform.

Be patient until I finish. Romans, countrymen, and friends! Listen to my reasons and be silent so you can hear. Believe me on my honor and keep my honor in mind, so you may believe me. Be wise when you criticize me and keep your minds alert so you can judge me fairly. If there’s anyone in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar’s, I say to him that my love for Caesar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demands to know why I rose up against Caesar, this is my answer: it’s not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Would you rather that Caesar were living and we would all go to our graves as slaves, or that Caesar were dead and we all lived as free men? I weep for Caesar in that he was good to me. I rejoice in his good fortune. I honor him for being brave. But his ambition—for that, I killed him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his bravery, and death for his ambition. Who here is so low that he wants to be a slave? If there are any, speak, for it is he whom I’ve offended. Who here is so barbarous that he doesn’t want to be a Roman? If there are any, speak, for it is he whom I’ve offended. Who here is so vile that he doesn’t love his country? If there are any, speak, for it is he whom I have offended. I will pause for a reply.

No one, Brutus, no one.

Then I have offended no one. I’ve done no more to Caesar than you will do to me. The reasons for his death are recorded in the Capitol. His glory has not been diminished where he earned it, nor have those offenses for which he was killed been exaggerated.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no part in the killing, will benefit from his death—receiving a share in the commonwealth, as you all will. With these words I leave. Just as I killed my best friend for the good of Rome, so will I kill myself when my country requires my death.

Live, Brutus! Live, live!

Let’s carry him in triumph to his house!

Let’s build a statue of him, near those of his ancestors!

Let him become Caesar!

Caesar’s better qualities exist in Brutus, and we will crown him.

We’ll bring him to his house with shouts and celebration!

My countrymen—

Silence! Brutus speaks.

Quiet there!

Good countrymen, let me leave alone. I want you to stay here with Antony to pay respects to Caesar’s corpse and listen to Antony’s speech about Caesar’s glories, which he gives with our permission. I ask that none of you leave, except myself, until Antony has finished.

Let’s stay and hear Mark Antony.

Let him mount the pulpit. We’ll listen to him. Noble Antony, mount the podium.

For Brutus’ sake, I am indebted to you.

(he steps up into the pulpit)

What does he say about Brutus?

He says that for Brutus’ sake he finds himself indebted to us all.

He’d better not speak badly of Brutus here.

Caesar was a tyrant.

That’s for sure. We’re lucky that Rome is rid of him.

Quiet! Let’s hear what Antony has to say.

You gentle Romans—

Quiet there! Let us hear him.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, give me your attention. I have come here to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do is remembered after their deaths, but the good is often buried with them. It might as well be the same with Caesar. The noble Brutus told you that Caesar was ambitious. If that’s true, it’s a serious fault, and Caesar has paid seriously for it. With the permission of Brutus and the others—for Brutus is an honorable man; they are all honorable men—I have come here to speak at Caesar’s funeral. He was my friend, he was faithful and just to me. But Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. He brought many captives home to Rome whose ransoms brought wealth to the city. Is this the work of an ambitious man? When the poor cried, Caesar cried too. Ambition shouldn’t be so soft. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. You all saw that on the Lupercal feast day I offered him a king’s crown three times, and he refused it three times. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. And, no question, Brutus is an honorable man. I am not here to disprove what Brutus has said, but to say what I know. You all loved him once, and not without reason. Then what reason holds you back from mourning him now? Men have become brutish beasts and lost their reason! Bear with me. My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause until it returns to me. (he weeps)

I think there’s a lot of sense in what he says.

If you think about it correctly, Caesar has suffered a great wrong.

Has he, sirs? I’m worried there will be someone worse to replace him.

Did you hear Antony? Caesar wouldn’t take the crown. Therefore it’s certain that he wasn’t ambitious.

If it turns out he wasn’t, certain people are going to get it.

Poor man! Antony’s eyes are fiery red from crying.

There isn’t a nobler man than Antony in all of Rome.

Now listen, he’s going to speak again.

Only yesterday the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. Now he lies there worth nothing, and no one is so humble as to show him respect. Oh, sirs, if I stirred your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I would offend Brutus and Cassius, who, you all know, are honorable men. I will not do them wrong. I would rather wrong the dead, and wrong myself and you, than wrong such honorable men. But here’s a paper with Caesar’s seal on it. I found it in his room—it’s his will. If you could only hear this testament—which, excuse me, I don’t intend to read aloud—you would kiss dead Caesar’s wounds and dip your handkerchiefs in his sacred blood, and beg for a lock of hair to remember him by. And when you died, you would mention the handkerchief or the hair in your will, bequeathing it to your heirs like a rich legacy.

We want to hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony.

The will, the will! We want to hear Caesar’s will.

Be patient, gentle friends, I must not read it. It isn’t proper for you to know how much Caesar loved you. You aren’t wood, you aren’t stones—you’re men. And, being men, the contents of Caesar’s will would enrage you. It’s better that you don’t know you’re his heirs, for if you knew, just imagine what would come of it!

Read the will. We want to hear it, Antony. You have to read us the will, Caesar’s will.

Will you be patient? Will you wait awhile? I’ve said too much in telling you of it. I’m afraid that I wrong the honorable men whose daggers have stabbed Caesar.

They were traitors. “Honorable men!”

The will! The testament!

They were villains, murderers. The will! Read the will!

You force me to read the will, then? Then make a circle around Caesar’s corpse, and let me show you the man who made this will. Shall I come down? Will you let me?

Come down.

Descend.

We’ll let you.

Make a circle; stand around him.

Stand away from the hearse. Stand away from the body.

Make room for Antony, most noble Antony!

No, don’t press up against me. Stand further away.

Stand back. Give him room.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all know this cloak. I remember the first time Caesar ever put it on. It was a summer’s evening; he was in his tent. It was the day he overcame the Nervii warriors. Look, here’s where Cassius’ dagger pierced it. See the wound that Casca made. Through this hole beloved Brutus stabbed. And when he pulled out his cursed dagger, see how Caesar’s blood came with it, as if rushing out a door to see if it was really Brutus who was knocking so rudely. For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar’s angel. The gods know how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkind cut of all. For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, he understood his beloved Brutus’ ingratitude; it was stronger than the violence of traitors, and it defeated him, bursting his mighty heart. And at the base of Pompey’s statue, with his cloak covering his face, which was dripping with blood the whole time, great Caesar fell. Oh, what a fall it was, my countrymen! Then you and I and all of us fell down, while bloody treason triumphed. Oh, now you weep, and I sense that you feel pity. These are gracious tears. But if it overwhelms you to look at Caesar’s wounded cloak, how will you feel, kind men, now? Look at this, here is the man—scarred, as you can see, by traitors. (he lifts up CAESAR’s cloak)

Oh, what a sad sight!

Oh, noble Caesar!

Oh, sad day!

Oh, traitors, villains!

Oh, most bloody sight!

We will get revenge.

Revenge! Let’s go after them! Seek! Burn! Set fire! Kill! Slay! Leave no traitors alive!

Wait, countrymen.

Quiet there! Listen to the noble Antony.

We’ll listen to him, we’ll follow him, we’ll die with him.

Good friends, sweet friends, don’t let me stir you up to such a sudden mutiny. Those who have done this deed are honorable. I don’t know what private grudges they had that made them do it. They’re wise and honorable, and will no doubt give you reasons for it. I haven’t come to steal your loyalty, friends. I’m no orator, as Brutus is. I’m only, as you know, a plain, blunt man who loved his friend, and the men who let me speak know this well. I have neither cleverness nor rhetorical skill nor the authority nor gesture nor eloquence nor the power of speech to stir men up. I just speak directly. I tell you what you already know. I show you sweet Caesar’s wounds—poor, speechless mouths!—and make them speak for me. But if I were Brutus and Brutus were me, then I’d stir you up, and install in each of Caesar’s wounds the kind of voice that could convince even stones to rise up and mutiny.

We’ll mutiny.

We’ll burn Brutus’ house.

Let’s go, then! Come, find the conspirators!

Wait, and listen to me, countrymen.

Quiet! Wait! Listen to Antony. Most noble Antony!

Why, friends, you don’t even know what you’re doing yet. What has Caesar done to deserve your love? Alas, you don’t know. I must tell you then. You’ve forgotten the will I told you about.

Yes! The will! Let’s stay and hear the will!

Here’s the will, written under Caesar’s seal. To every Roman citizen he gives—to every individual man—seventy-five drachmas.

Most noble Caesar! We’ll revenge his death.

Oh, royal Caesar!

Listen to me patiently.

Quiet, there!

Also, he’s left you all his walkways—in his private gardens and newly planted orchards—on this side of the Tiber River. He’s left them to you and to your heirs forever—public pleasures in which you will be able to stroll and relax. Here was a Caesar! When will there be another like him?

Never, never. Let’s go! We’ll burn his body in the holy place and use the brands to set the traitors’ houses on fire. Take up the body.

We’ll start a fire.

We’ll use benches for wood—

And windowsills, anything.

Now, let it work. Trouble, you have begun—take whatever course you choose!

What’s up, my man?

Sir, Octavius has already arrived in Rome.

Where is he?

He and Lepidus are at Caesar’s house.

I will go straight to visit him. I ask for him, and he comes. Fortune is happy today and, in this mood, will give us anything we want.

I heard Octavius say that Brutus and Cassius have ridden like madmen through the gates of Rome.

They probably received warning about how much I stirred up the people. Take me to Octavius.