LITMIR.BIZ

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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, then,

       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 fifteen 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 more 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 favor.

       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 pass, thy native semblance on,

       Not Erebus itself were dim enough

       To hide thee from prevention.

       [Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, 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 honors 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 apart.]

       DECIUS.

       Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?

       CASCA.

       No.

       CINNA.

       O, pardon, sir, it doth, and yon grey 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 th’ 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,

      

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