Julius Caesar

Brutus

Words before blows; is it so, countrymen?

Octavius

Not that we love words better, as you do.

Brutus

Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

Antony

In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words.
Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart,
Crying 'Long live! Hail, Caesar!'

Cassius

Antony

Brutus

Antony

Cassius

Octavius

Brutus

Octavius

Brutus

Cassius

Antony

Octavius

[Exit Octavius, Antony, and their army.]

Cassius

Brutus

Lucilius

[Brutus and Lucilius converse apart.]

Cassius

Messala

Cassius

Messala

Cassius

Brutus

[Brutus rejoins Cassius.]

Cassius

Brutus

Cassius

Brutus

Cassius

Brutus

[Exit.]

Brutus

Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.
[Enter the Ghost of Caesar.]
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 any thing?
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.

Ghost

Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

Brutus

                                      Why com'st thou?

Ghost

To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

Brutus

Well; then I shall see thee again?

Ghost

Ay, at Philippi.

Brutus

Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.

Brutus

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

Cassius

I do not think it good.

Brutus

                                    Your reason?

Cassius

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

Messala

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

Brutus

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

Messala

Even so great men great losses should endure.

Cassius

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

Brutus

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

Cassius

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come;
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world,
Hated by one he loves, braved by his brother,
Checked like a bondman, all his faults observed,
Set in a notebook, learned and conned 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 lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Brutus

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cassius

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

Brutus

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 humor? 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.

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