SCENE I. Rome. BRUTUS's orchard. The Life and Death of Julius Caesar  Shakespeare homepage  |  Julius Caesar  | Act 2, Scene 1 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  SCENE I. Rome. BRUTUS's orchard. 

 Enter BRUTUS  BRUTUS  What, Lucius, ho! 

 I cannot, by the progress of the stars, 

 Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say! 

 I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. 

 When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius! 



 Enter LUCIUS  LUCIUS  Call'd you, my lord? 

 BRUTUS  Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: 

 When it is lighted, come and call me here. 

 LUCIUS  I will, my lord. 



 Exit  BRUTUS  It must be by his death: and for my part, 

 I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 

 But for the general. He would be crown'd: 

 How that might change his nature, there's the question. 

 It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; 

 And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;-- 

 And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, 

 That at his will he may do danger with. 

 The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 

 Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar, 

 I have not known when his affections sway'd 

 More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof, 

 That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 

 Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; 

 But when he once attains the upmost round. 

 He then unto the ladder turns his back, 

 Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 

 By which he did ascend. So Caesar may. 

 Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel 

 Will bear no colour for the thing he is, 

 Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented, 

 Would run to these and these extremities: 

 And therefore think him as a serpent's egg 

 Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, 

 And kill him in the shell. 



 Re-enter LUCIUS  LUCIUS  The taper burneth in your closet, sir. 

 Searching the window for a flint, I found 

 This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure, 

 It did not lie there when I went to bed. 



 Gives him the letter  BRUTUS  Get you to bed again; it is not day. 

 Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? 

 LUCIUS  I know not, sir. 

 BRUTUS  Look in the calendar, and bring me word. 

 LUCIUS  I will, sir. 



 Exit  BRUTUS  The exhalations whizzing in the air 

 Give so much light that I may read by them. 



 Opens the letter and reads  'Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself. 

 Shall Rome,  & c. Speak, strike, redress! 

 Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!' 

 Such instigations have been often dropp'd 

 Where I have took them up. 

 'Shall Rome,  & c.' Thus must I piece it out: 

 Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? 

 My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 

 The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king. 

 'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated 

 To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise: 

 If the redress will follow, thou receivest 

 Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! 



 Re-enter LUCIUS  LUCIUS  Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. 



 Knocking within  BRUTUS  'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. 



 Exit LUCIUS  Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, 

 I have not slept. 

 Between the acting of a dreadful thing 

 And the first motion, all the interim is 

 Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: 

 The Genius and the mortal instruments 

 Are then in council; and the state of man, 

 Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 

 The nature of an insurrection. 



 Re-enter LUCIUS  LUCIUS  Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, 

 Who doth desire to see you. 

 BRUTUS  Is he alone? 

 LUCIUS  No, sir, there are moe with him. 

 BRUTUS  Do you know them? 

 LUCIUS  No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears, 

 And half their faces buried in their cloaks, 

 That by no means I may discover them 

 By any mark of favour. 

 BRUTUS  Let 'em enter. 



 Exit LUCIUS  They are the faction. O conspiracy, 

 Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 

 When evils are most free? O, then by day 

 Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 

 To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy; 

 Hide it in smiles and affability: 

 For if thou path, thy native semblance on, 

 Not Erebus itself were dim enough 

 To hide thee from prevention. 



 Enter the conspirators, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and TREBONIUS  CASSIUS  I think we are too bold upon your rest: 

 Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you? 

 BRUTUS  I have been up this hour, awake all night. 

 Know I these men that come along with you? 

 CASSIUS  Yes, every man of them, and no man here 

 But honours you; and every one doth wish 

 You had but that opinion of yourself 

 Which every noble Roman bears of you. 

 This is Trebonius. 

 BRUTUS  He is welcome hither. 

 CASSIUS  This, Decius Brutus. 

 BRUTUS  He is welcome too. 

 CASSIUS  This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. 

 BRUTUS  They are all welcome. 

 What watchful cares do interpose themselves 

 Betwixt your eyes and night? 

 CASSIUS  Shall I entreat a word? 



 BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper  DECIUS BRUTUS  Here lies the east: doth not the day break here? 

 CASCA  No. 

 CINNA  O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines 

 That fret the clouds are messengers of day. 

 CASCA  You shall confess that you are both deceived. 

 Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, 

 Which is a great way growing on the south, 

 Weighing the youthful season of the year. 

 Some two months hence up higher toward the north 

 He first presents his fire; and the high east 

 Stands, as the Capitol, directly here. 

 BRUTUS  Give me your hands all over, one by one. 

 CASSIUS  And let us swear our resolution. 

 BRUTUS  No, not an oath: if not the face of men, 

 The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,-- 

 If these be motives weak, break off betimes, 

 And every man hence to his idle bed; 

 So let high-sighted tyranny range on, 

 Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, 

 As I am sure they do, bear fire enough 

 To kindle cowards and to steel with valour 

 The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, 

 What need we any spur but our own cause, 

 To prick us to redress? what other bond 

 Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word, 

 And will not palter? and what other oath 

 Than honesty to honesty engaged, 

 That this shall be, or we will fall for it? 

 Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, 

 Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls 

 That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear 

 Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain 

 The even virtue of our enterprise, 

 Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, 

 To think that or our cause or our performance 

 Did need an oath; when every drop of blood 

 That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, 

 Is guilty of a several bastardy, 

 If he do break the smallest particle 

 Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. 

 CASSIUS  But what of Cicero? shall we sound him? 

 I think he will stand very strong with us. 

 CASCA  Let us not leave him out. 

 CINNA  No, by no means. 

 METELLUS CIMBER  O, let us have him, for his silver hairs 

 Will purchase us a good opinion 

 And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: 

 It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands; 

 Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, 

 But all be buried in his gravity. 

 BRUTUS  O, name him not: let us not break with him; 

 For he will never follow any thing 

 That other men begin. 

 CASSIUS  Then leave him out. 

 CASCA  Indeed he is not fit. 

 DECIUS BRUTUS  Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar? 

 CASSIUS  Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet, 

 Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, 

 Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him 

 A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means, 

 If he improve them, may well stretch so far 

 As to annoy us all: which to prevent, 

 Let Antony and Caesar fall together. 

 BRUTUS  Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, 

 To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, 

 Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; 

 For Antony is but a limb of Caesar: 

 Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. 

 We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar; 

 And in the spirit of men there is no blood: 

 O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, 

 And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, 

 Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, 

 Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; 

 Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, 

 Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds: 

 And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 

 Stir up their servants to an act of rage, 

 And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make 

 Our purpose necessary and not envious: 

 Which so appearing to the common eyes, 

 We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. 

 And for Mark Antony, think not of him; 

 For he can do no more than Caesar's arm 

 When Caesar's head is off. 

 CASSIUS  Yet I fear him; 

 For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar-- 

 BRUTUS  Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him: 

 If he love Caesar, all that he can do 

 Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar: 

 And that were much he should; for he is given 

 To sports, to wildness and much company. 

 TREBONIUS  There is no fear in him; let him not die; 

 For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. 



 Clock strikes  BRUTUS  Peace! count the clock. 

 CASSIUS  The clock hath stricken three. 

 TREBONIUS  'Tis time to part. 

 CASSIUS  But it is doubtful yet, 

 Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no; 

 For he is superstitious grown of late, 

 Quite from the main opinion he held once 

 Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies: 

 It may be, these apparent prodigies, 

 The unaccustom'd terror of this night, 

 And the persuasion of his augurers, 

 May hold him from the Capitol to-day. 

 DECIUS BRUTUS  Never fear that: if he be so resolved, 

 I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear 

 That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, 

 And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, 

 Lions with toils and men with flatterers; 

 But when I tell him he hates flatterers, 

 He says he does, being then most flattered. 

 Let me work; 

 For I can give his humour the true bent, 

 And I will bring him to the Capitol. 

 CASSIUS  Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. 

 BRUTUS  By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost? 

 CINNA  Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. 

 METELLUS CIMBER  Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, 

 Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey: 

 I wonder none of you have thought of him. 

 BRUTUS  Now, good Metellus, go along by him: 

 He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; 

 Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. 

 CASSIUS  The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus. 

 And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember 

 What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. 

 BRUTUS  Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; 

 Let not our looks put on our purposes, 

 But bear it as our Roman actors do, 

 With untired spirits and formal constancy: 

 And so good morrow to you every one. 



 Exeunt all but BRUTUS  Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter; 

 Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 

 Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, 

 Which busy care draws in the brains of men; 

 Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 



 Enter PORTIA  PORTIA  Brutus, my lord! 

 BRUTUS  Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now? 

 It is not for your health thus to commit 

 Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. 

 PORTIA  Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, 

 Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, 

 You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, 

 Musing and sighing, with your arms across, 

 And when I ask'd you what the matter was, 

 You stared upon me with ungentle looks; 

 I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, 

 And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot; 

 Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, 

 But, with an angry wafture of your hand, 

 Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did; 

 Fearing to strengthen that impatience 

 Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal 

 Hoping it was but an effect of humour, 

 Which sometime hath his hour with every man. 

 It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, 

 And could it work so much upon your shape 

 As it hath much prevail'd on your condition, 

 I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, 

 Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 

 BRUTUS  I am not well in health, and that is all. 

 PORTIA  Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, 

 He would embrace the means to come by it. 

 BRUTUS  Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. 

 PORTIA  Is Brutus sick? and is it physical 

 To walk unbraced and suck up the humours 

 Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, 

 And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, 

 To dare the vile contagion of the night 

 And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air 

 To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; 

 You have some sick offence within your mind, 

 Which, by the right and virtue of my place, 

 I ought to know of: and, upon my knees, 

 I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, 

 By all your vows of love and that great vow 

 Which did incorporate and make us one, 

 That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, 

 Why you are heavy, and what men to-night 

 Have had to resort to you: for here have been 

 Some six or seven, who did hide their faces 

 Even from darkness. 

 BRUTUS  Kneel not, gentle Portia. 

 PORTIA  I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. 

 Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, 

 Is it excepted I should know no secrets 

 That appertain to you? Am I yourself 

 But, as it were, in sort or limitation, 

 To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, 

 And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs 

 Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, 

 Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 

 BRUTUS  You are my true and honourable wife, 

 As dear to me as are the ruddy drops 

 That visit my sad heart 

 PORTIA  If this were true, then should I know this secret. 

 I grant I am a woman; but withal 

 A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife: 

 I grant I am a woman; but withal 

 A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. 

 Think you I am no stronger than my sex, 

 Being so father'd and so husbanded? 

 Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em: 

 I have made strong proof of my constancy, 

 Giving myself a voluntary wound 

 Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience. 

 And not my husband's secrets? 

 BRUTUS  O ye gods, 

 Render me worthy of this noble wife! 



 Knocking within  Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile; 

 And by and by thy bosom shall partake 

 The secrets of my heart. 

 All my engagements I will construe to thee, 

 All the charactery of my sad brows: 

 Leave me with haste. 



 Exit PORTIA  Lucius, who's that knocks? 



 Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS  LUCIUS  He is a sick man that would speak with you. 

 BRUTUS  Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. 

 Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how? 

 LIGARIUS  Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. 

 BRUTUS  O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, 

 To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! 

 LIGARIUS  I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand 

 Any exploit worthy the name of honour. 

 BRUTUS  Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, 

 Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. 

 LIGARIUS  By all the gods that Romans bow before, 

 I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome! 

 Brave son, derived from honourable loins! 

 Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up 

 My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, 

 And I will strive with things impossible; 

 Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? 

 BRUTUS  A piece of work that will make sick men whole. 

 LIGARIUS  But are not some whole that we must make sick? 

 BRUTUS  That must we also. What it is, my Caius, 

 I shall unfold to thee, as we are going 

 To whom it must be done. 

 LIGARIUS  Set on your foot, 

 And with a heart new-fired I follow you, 

 To do I know not what: but it sufficeth 

 That Brutus leads me on. 

 BRUTUS  Follow me, then. 



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