Sämtliche Werke von Shakespeare in einem Band: Zweisprachige Ausgabe (Deutsch-Englisch) - William Shakespeare

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you cruel men of Rome,

       Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft

       Have you climb’d up to walls and battlements,

       To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops,

       Your infants in your arms, and there have sat

       The livelong day with patient expectation

       To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome.

       And when you saw his chariot but appear,

       Have you not made an universal shout

       That Tiber trembled underneath her banks

       To hear the replication of your sounds

       Made in her concave shores?

       And do you now put on your best attire?

       And do you now cull out a holiday?

       And do you now strew flowers in his way

       That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood?

       Be gone!

       Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,

       Pray to the gods to intermit the plague

       That needs must light on this ingratitude.

       FLAVIUS.

       Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,

       Assemble all the poor men of your sort,

       Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears

       Into the channel, till the lowest stream

       Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

       [Exeunt CITIZENS.]

      See whether their basest metal be not moved;

       They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.

       Go you down that way towards the Capitol;

       This way will I. Disrobe the images,

       If you do find them deck’d with ceremonies.

      MARULLUS.

       May we do so?

       You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

      FLAVIUS.

       It is no matter; let no images

       Be hung with Caesar’s trophies. I’ll about

       And drive away the vulgar from the streets;

       So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

       These growing feathers pluck’d from Caesar’s wing

       Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

       Who else would soar above the view of men,

       And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

       [Exeunt.]

       German

      SCENE II

       Table of Contents

       The same. A public place.

      [Enter, in procession, with music, Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calpurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer.]

      CAESAR.

       Calpurnia,—

      CASCA.

       Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

       [Music ceases.]

      CAESAR.

       Calpurnia,—

      CALPURNIA.

       Here, my lord.

      CAESAR.

       Stand you directly in Antonius’ way,

       When he doth run his course.—Antonius,—

      ANTONY.

       Caesar, my lord?

      CAESAR.

       Forget not in your speed, Antonius,

       To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,

       The barren, touched in this holy chase,

       Shake off their sterile curse.

      ANTONY.

       I shall remember.

       When Caesar says “Do this,” it is perform’d.

      CAESAR.

       Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

       [Music.]

      SOOTHSAYER.

       Caesar!

      CAESAR.

       Ha! Who calls?

      CASCA.

       Bid every noise be still.—Peace yet again!

       [Music ceases.]

      CAESAR.

       Who is it in the press that calls on me?

       I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,

       Cry “Caesar”! Speak, Caesar is turn’d to hear.

      SOOTHSAYER.

       Beware the Ides of March.

      CAESAR.

       What man is that?

      BRUTUS.

       A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March.

      CAESAR.

       Set him before me; let me see his face.

      CASSIUS.

       Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

      CAESAR.

       What say’st thou to me now? Speak once again.

      SOOTHSAYER.

       Beware the Ides of March.

      CAESAR.

       He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass.

       [Sennet. Exeunt all but BRUTUS and CASSIUS.]

      CASSIUS.

       Will you go see the order of the course?

      BRUTUS.

       Not I.

      CASSIUS.

       I pray you, do.

      BRUTUS.

       I am not gamesome; I do lack some part

       Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

       Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;

       I’ll leave you.

      CASSIUS.

       Brutus, I do observe you now of late:

       I have not from your eyes that gentleness

       And show of love as I was wont to have:

       You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

       Over your friend that loves you.

      BRUTUS.

       Cassius,

       Be not deceived: if I have veil’d my look,

       I turn the trouble of my countenance

       Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

       Of late with passions of some difference,

       Conceptions only proper to myself,

       Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors;

       But let not therefore my good friends

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