Julius Caesar

Now, Antony, our prayers have been answered. You said the enemy wouldn’t come down but keep to the hills and upper regions. It seems not. Their forces are nearby. They intend to challenge us here at Philippi, responding to our challenge before we’ve even challenged him.

I know how they think, and I understand why they’re doing this. They really wish they were somewhere else, but they want to descend on us, looking fierce so we’ll think they’re brave. But they aren’t.

Prepare yourselves, generals. The enemy approaches with great display. They show their bloody heralds of battle, and something must be done immediately.

Octavius, lead your forces slowly out to the left side of the level field.

I’ll go to the right side. You stay on the left.

Why are you defying me in this urgent matter?

I’m not defying you, but it’s what I’m going to do.

They’ve stopped. They want to talk.

Stay here, Titinius. We have to go out and talk to them.

Mark Antony, should we give the signal to attack?

No, Octavius Caesar, we’ll respond to their charge. Go forward. The generals want to speak with us.

(to his army) Don’t move until we give the signal.

Words before fighting. Is that how it is, countrymen?

Not that we love words more than fighting, like you do.

Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

Brutus, you give a nice speech along with your evil strokes. Think of the hole you made in Caesar’s heart when you cried, “Long live Caesar! Hail Caesar!”

Antony, we don’t yet know what kind of blows you can inflict. But your words are as sweet as honey—you’ve stolen from the bees and left them with nothing.

I took their strings too, wouldn’t you say?

Oh, yes, and you’ve left them silent too, because you stole their buzzing, Antony. You very wisely warn us before you sting.

Villains, you didn’t do even that much when your vile daggers struck each other as they hacked up Caesar’s sides. You smiled like apes and fawned like dogs and bowed like servants, kissing Caesar’s feet. And all the while, damned Casca, like a dog, struck Caesar on the neck from behind. Oh, you flatterers!

Flatterers! Now, Brutus, you have only yourself to thank. Antony wouldn’t be here to offend us today if you’d listened to me earlier.

Come, come, let’s remember why we’re here. If arguing makes us sweat, the real trial will turn that water to blood. (he draws his sword) Look: I draw my sword against conspirators. When do you think I’ll put it away? Never, until Caesar’s thirty-three wounds are well avenged, or until I too have been killed by you.

Caesar, you’re not going to be killed by a traitor—unless you kill yourself..

I hope you’re right. I wasn’t born to die on your sword.

If you were the noblest of your family, young man, you couldn’t die more honorably.

An annoying schoolboy, unworthy of such an honor, joined by a masquerader and a partier!

Still the same old Cassius!

Come Antony, let’s go. Traitors, we defy you. If you dare to fight today, come to the field. If not, come when you have the courage.

Now let the wind blow, waves swell, and ships sink! The storm has begun and everything is at stake.

Lucillius! I’d like a word with you.

(coming forward) My lord?

Messala!

(coming forward) What is it, my general?

Messala, today is my birthday—I was born on this very day. Give me your hand, Messala. You’ll be my witness that I’ve been forced, as Pompey was, to wager all of our freedoms on one battle. You know that I used to believe in Epicurus and his disregard for omens. I’ve changed my mind now and partly believe in omens. Traveling from Sardis, two mighty eagles fell on our front flag and perched there, eating from the hands of the soldiers who’d accompanied us to Philippi. This morning, they’ve flown away and in their place are ravens, crows, and kites, flying over our heads and looking down on us, as though we were sickly prey. Their shadows are like a deadly canopy, under which our army lies, ready to die.

Don’t believe in this.

I only partly believe it, for I’m enthusiastic and resolved to meet all dangers without wavering.

(returning with LUCILLIUS) —Right, Lucillius.

Now, most noble Brutus, the gods are friendly with us today so that we, who want peace, can live on to old age! But since the affairs of men are always uncertain, let’s think about the worst that may happen. If we lose this battle, this is the last time we’ll speak to each other. If we lose, what do you plan to do?

By the same principle that made me condemn Cato for committing suicide, I plan to be patient and submit to what the gods decide. I don’t know why, but I find it cowardly and vile to kill oneself early to prevent possible suffering later on.

Then if we lose this battle, you’ll be willing to be led in chains through the streets of Rome?

No, Cassius, no. Don’t imagine that I’ll ever allow myself to return to Rome in chains. My mind is too great for that. But today, the work that March 15th began must end, and I don’t know if we’ll meet again. Therefore, accept my everlasting farewell. Forever and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we meet again, then we’ll smile. If not, then this parting was well done.

Forever and forever, farewell, Brutus! If we meet again, then we’ll smile indeed. If not, it’s true, this parting was well done.

Well, lead on. Oh, I wish I could know what will happen today before it happens! But it’s enough to know that the day will end, and then the end will be known. Come! Let’s go!