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!
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!
What, Lucius, ho! I can't, 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!
what, lucius, ho
Call’d you, my lord?
Call’d you, my lord?
Call’d you, my lord?
call’d you, my lord
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here.
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here.
get me a taper in my study, lucius: when it is lighted, come and call me here
I will, my lord.
I will, my lord.
I will, my lord.
i will, my lord
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.
Th’ 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.
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. Th’ 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.
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. Th’ abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins Remorse from power; and, to speak truth of Caesar, I haven't 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's, Fashion it thus: that what he's, 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.
it must be by his death: and for my part, i know no personal cause to spurn at him, but for the general
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.
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.
The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found This paper, thus seal’d up, and I'm sure It did not lie there when I went to bed.
the taper burneth in your closet, sir
Get you to bed again; it is not day.
Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March?
Get you to bed again; it is not day. Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March?
Get you to bed again; it isn't day. Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March?
get you to bed again; it is not day
I know not, sir.
I know not, sir.
I know not, sir.
i know not, sir
Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
look in the calendar, and bring me word
I will, sir.
I will, sir.
I will, sir.
i will, sir
The exhalations, whizzing in the air
Give so much light that I may read by them.
The exhalations, whizzing in the air Give so much light that I may read by them.
The exhalations, whizzing in the air Give so much light that I may read by them.
the exhalations, whizzing in the air give so much light that i may read by them
Brutus's soliloquy is one of the most brilliantly constructed bad arguments in literature. He begins with a conclusion — 'it must be by his death' — and then spends twenty-five lines building the justification backward. The most revealing moment is 'Fashion it thus': he actually says, out loud, that since the case against what Caesar *is* has no color, he'll frame the case against what Caesar *might become*. That is: he knows there's no evidence, so he's constructing a hypothetical. The serpent's egg image captures the logical sleight of hand perfectly. An egg might become a dangerous serpent — yes. But it might also hatch into something benign. And crucially, the egg has done nothing wrong. Brutus is proposing pre-emptive execution of a man for crimes he has not committed and might never commit. The play never resolves whether Brutus is right about what Caesar would have become — Shakespeare carefully keeps us uncertain. Caesar is vain and deaf and grandiose, but there's no evidence he would have been a Sulla or a Tarquin. Brutus's entire enterprise rests on a guess. And the guess turns out to be more destructive than what it was guarding against.
Sir, March is wasted fifteen days.
Sir, March is wasted fifteen days.
Sir, March is wasted fifteen days.
sir, march is wasted fifteen days
’Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks.
’Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks.
’Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks.
’tis good
Sir, ’tis your brother Cassius at the door,
Who doth desire to see you.
Sir, ’tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who does desire to see you.
Sir, ’tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who does desire to see you.
sir, ’tis your brother cassius at the door, who doth desire to see you
Is he alone?
Is he alone?
Is he alone?
is he alone
No, sir, there are moe with him.
No, sir, there are moe with him.
No, sir, there are moe with him.
no, sir, there are moe with him
Do you know them?
Do you know them?
Do you know them?
do you know them
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.
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.
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.
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
Let ’em enter.
Let ’em enter.
Let ’em enter.
let ’em enter
The Portia scene is sometimes cut in performance, which is a mistake. She makes the sharpest, most legally precise argument in the play: that the marriage vow creates a single person ('that great vow / Which did incorporate and make us one'), and that secrets from a spouse are therefore self-concealment — a form of spiritual dishonesty. Her 'suburbs of your good pleasure' image is devastating: she's accusing Brutus of treating her like a mistress with visiting rights, not a partner with full claims. And then she does something extraordinary — she reveals the self-inflicted wound to prove she can bear pain without disclosure. This is both heroic and heartbreaking: she shouldn't have to wound herself to be trusted. Brutus's response — 'O ye gods, render me worthy of this noble wife!' — is his most honest moment in the play, and also a form of deflection. He doesn't say: 'you're right, here's what's happening.' He admires her and asks the gods to improve him. He still doesn't tell her. He promises to tell her later, but she'll be dead before the conspiracy is over. Keep watching for Portia in 2-4 and 4-3.
I think we are too bold upon your rest:
Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?
I think we are too bold upon your rest: Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?
I think we're too bold upon your rest: Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?
i think we are too bold upon your rest: good morrow, brutus; do we trouble you
I have been up this hour, awake all night.
Know I these men that come along with you?
I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you?
I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you?
i have been up this hour, awake all night
Yes, every man of them; and no man here
But honours you; and everyone doth wish
You had but that opinion of yourself
Which every noble Roman bears of you.
This is Trebonius.
Yes, every man of them; and no man here But honours you; and everyone does wish You had but that opinion of yourself Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius.
Yes, every man of them; and no man here But honours you; and everyone does wish You had but that opinion of yourself Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius.
yes, every man of them; and no man here but honours you; and everyone doth wish you had but that opinion of yourself which every noble roman bears of you
He is welcome hither.
He is welcome here.
He is welcome here.
he is welcome hither
This Decius Brutus.
This Decius Brutus.
This Decius Brutus.
this decius brutus
He is welcome too.
He is welcome too.
He is welcome too.
he is welcome too
This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.
This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.
This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.
this, casca; this, cinna; and this, metellus cimber
They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night?
They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpose themselves between your eyes and night?
They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpose themselves between your eyes and night?
they are all welcome
Shall I entreat a word?
Shall I entreat a word?
Shall I entreat a word?
shall i entreat a word
Decius speaks in the register of smooth reassurance — he is the conspiracy's flatterer in chief, and his voice is always calm, confident, solution-oriented. Watch for how effortlessly he reframes problems as opportunities: in 2-2, he'll do his most important work in this voice.
Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?
Here lies the east: does not the day break here?
Here lies the east: doesn't the day break here?
here lies the east: doth not the day break here
No.
No.
No.
no
O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon grey lines
That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
O, pardon, sir, it does; and yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
O, pardon, sir, it does; and yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
o, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon grey lines that fret the clouds are messengers of day
You shall confess that you are both deceiv’d.
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.
You shall confess that you are both deceiv’d. 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.
You shall confess that you're both deceiv’d. 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.
you shall confess that you are both deceiv’d
Give me your hands all over, one by one.
Give me your hands all over, one by one.
Give me your hands all over, one by one.
give me your hands all over, one by one
And let us swear our resolution.
And let us swear our resolution.
And let us swear our resolution.
and let us swear our resolution
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 engag’d,
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,
Is guilty of a several bastardy,
If he do break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath pass’d from him.
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 engag’d, 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, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that has pass’d from him.
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'm 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 won't palter? and what other oath Than honesty to honesty engag’d, 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 don't 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, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that has pass’d from him.
no, not an oath
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us.
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us.
but what of cicero
Let us not leave him out.
Let us not leave him out.
Let us not leave him out.
let us not leave him out
No, by no means.
No, by no means.
No, by no means.
no, by no means
Metellus Cimber speaks practically, in committee-meeting mode — he adds names, suggests inclusions, thinks in terms of what the group needs. He's a useful planner, not a thinker. Watch for him in 3-1, where his role is purely mechanical.
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 judgement rul’d our hands;
Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.
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 judgement rul’d our hands; Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity.
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 judgement rul’d our hands; Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity.
o, let us have him, for his silver hairs will purchase us a good opinion, and buy men’s voices to commend our deeds
O, name him not; let us not break with him;
For he will never follow anything
That other men begin.
O, name him not; let us not break with him; For he will never follow anything That other men begin.
O, name him not; let us not break with him; For he will never follow anything That other men begin.
o, name him not; let us not break with him; for he will never follow anything that other men begin
Then leave him out.
Then leave him out.
Then leave him out.
then leave him out
Indeed, he is not fit.
Indeed, he is not fit.
Indeed, he isn't fit.
indeed, he is not fit
Scene 2-1 is the play's structural heart, and Shakespeare organizes it around the pressure of time. It is 3 AM when the conspirators arrive. By 8 AM they need to be at Caesar's house. That leaves five hours. The clock striking three is one of Shakespeare's famous anachronisms (mechanical striking clocks didn't exist in ancient Rome), but it's dramatically essential: it puts the audience on a countdown. The scene also runs forward on a diagonal of growing light — Brutus reads by meteor-light, the conspirators argue about which way east is, Cassius notes that 'the morning comes upon us.' By the time Portia enters and then Ligarius, dawn is genuinely close. Everything Brutus decides in these five hours — spare Antony, refuse the oath, dismiss Cicero — he decides in the small hours before dawn, sleepless, running on philosophical arguments instead of clear judgment. The scene doesn't say this explicitly, but it doesn't need to. The structural irony does the work.
Shall no man else be touch’d but only Caesar?
Shall no man else be touch’d but only Caesar?
Shall no man else be touch’d but only Caesar?
shall no man else be touch’d but only caesar
Decius, well urg’d. I think it is not meet,
Mark Antony, so well belov’d 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.
Decius, well urg’d. I think it is not meet, Mark Antony, so well belov’d 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.
Decius, well urg’d. I think it isn't meet, Mark Antony, so well belov’d 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.
decius, well urg’d
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 mark
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.
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 mark 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.
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's 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 mark 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.
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...
Yet I fear him;
For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar—
Yet I fear him; For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar—
Yet I fear him; For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar—
yet i fear him; for in the ingrafted love he bears to caesar—
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.
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.
Alas, good Cassius, don't 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's given To sports, to wildness, and much company.
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
Trebonius is almost silent, but when he speaks he's drily accurate — 'There is no fear in him; let him not die; / For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter' is a perfect three-line prediction that will go catastrophically wrong. Watch him.
There is no fear in him; let him not die;
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
There is no fear in him; let him not die; For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
there is no fear in him; let him not die; for he will live, and laugh at this hereafter
Peace! count the clock.
Peace! count the clock.
Peace! count the clock.
peace
The clock hath stricken three.
The clock has stricken three.
The clock has stricken three.
the clock hath stricken three
’Tis time to part.
’Tis time to part.
’Tis time to part.
’tis time to part
But it is doubtful yet
Whether Caesar will come forth today 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 today.
But it is doubtful yet Whether Caesar will come forth today 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 today.
But it is doubtful yet Whether Caesar will come forth today or no; For he's 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 today.
but it is doubtful yet whether caesar will come forth today or no; for he is superstitious grown of late, quite from the main opinion he held once of fantasy,...
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.
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.
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.
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...
Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
no, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
no, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him
By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?
By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?
By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?
by the eighth hour: is that the uttermost
Be that the uttermost; and fail not then.
Be that the uttermost; and fail not then.
Be that the uttermost; and fail not then.
be that the uttermost; and fail not then
Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey;
I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Caius Ligarius does bear Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey; I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Caius Ligarius does bear Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey; I wonder none of you have thought of him.
caius ligarius doth bear caesar hard, who rated him for speaking well of pompey; i wonder none of you have thought of him
Now, good Metellus, go along by him:
He loves me well, and I have given him reason;
Send him but hither, and I’ll fashion him.
Now, good Metellus, go along by him: He loves me well, and I have given him reason; Send him but here, and I’ll fashion him.
Now, good Metellus, go along by him: He loves me well, and I have given him reason; Send him but here, and I’ll fashion him.
now, good metellus, go along by him: he loves me well, and i have given him reason; send him but hither, and i’ll fashion him
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.
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.
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.
the morning comes upon’s
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 everyone.
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 everyone.
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 everyone.
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
Portia speaks in escalating logic — she builds her case the way a lawyer would, each clause adding weight to the next, until she delivers her evidence (the self-inflicted wound) like a closing argument. She's brilliant, disciplined, and completely shut out. Watch for how she always argues from rights and partnership, never just from feeling.
Brutus, my lord.
Brutus, my lord.
Brutus, my lord.
brutus, my lord
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, 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, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It isn't for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
portia, what mean you
Nor for yours neither. Y’ have 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 star’d upon me with ungentle looks.
I urg’d 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.
Nor for yours neither. Y’ have 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 star’d upon me with ungentle looks. I urg’d 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 has 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 has much prevail’d on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
Nor for yours neither. Y’ have 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 star’d upon me with ungentle looks. I urg’d 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 has his hour with every man. It won't let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; And could it work so much upon your shape As it has much prevail’d on your condition, I shouldn't know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
nor for yours neither
Ligarius is a minor character who appears in two scenes (2-1 and 2-2) and then disappears from the play. But his six lines in this scene are one of Shakespeare's sharpest satirical portraits. He arrives sick, wrapped in a kerchief, clearly unwell — and the moment Brutus says 'such an exploit have I in hand,' he literally throws off his illness. When asked what the enterprise is, he doesn't ask. He says: 'To do I know not what; but it sufficeth / That Brutus leads me.' This is presented as admirable devotion — and in context it's emotionally moving, a sick man rising for his hero. But step back and it's chilling: Ligarius has committed himself to a murder he doesn't know about, for reasons he hasn't heard, because the man who recruited him has a name he trusts. This is the conspiracy's entire ideological structure compressed into six lines: the cause is Brutus's honor, and Brutus's honor is the cause. There's nothing beneath it. No argument. No evidence. Just faith in the man. Keep watching for how that structure of blind faith becomes the conspiracy's fatal weakness.
I am not well in health, and that is all.
I am not well in health, and that is all.
I'm not well in health, and that's all.
i am not well in health, and that is all
Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it.
Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it.
brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, he would embrace the means to come by it
Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
why, so i do
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, your self, your half,
Why you are heavy, and what men tonight
Have had resort to you; for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.
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, your self, your half, Why you are heavy, and what men tonight Have had resort to you; for here have been Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness.
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, your self, your half, Why you're heavy, and what men tonight Have had resort to you; for here have been Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness.
is brutus sick, and is it physical to walk unbraced and suck up the humours of the dank morning
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
kneel not, gentle 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 your self
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.
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 your self 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.
I shouldn't 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 your self 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.
i should not need, if you were gentle brutus
You are my true and honourable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
You are my true and honourable wife, As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
You are my true and honourable wife, As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
you are my true and honourable wife, as dear to me as are the ruddy drops that visit my sad heart
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?
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?
If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant I'm a woman; but withal A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife; I grant I'm a woman; but withal A woman well reputed, Cato’s daughter. Think you I'm no stronger than my sex, Being so father’d and so husbanded? Tell me your counsels, I won't 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?
if this were true, then should i know this secret
O ye gods,
Render me worthy of this noble wife!
O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife!
O ye gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife!
o ye gods, render me worthy of this noble wife
Here is a sick man that would speak with you.
Here is a sick man that would speak with you.
Here is a sick man that would speak with you.
here is a sick man that would speak with you
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?
Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?
caius ligarius, that metellus spake of
Ligarius speaks in the language of pure devotion — short, fervent declarations tied entirely to Brutus's name. He doesn't need to know the plan; Brutus is the plan. Watch for the contrast between his total faith and Brutus's total uncertainty.
Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue.
Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue.
Vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue.
vouchsafe good-morrow from a feeble tongue
O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!
O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!
O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!
o, what a time have you chose out, brave caius, to wear a kerchief
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.
I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour.
I'm not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour.
i am not sick, if brutus have in hand any exploit worthy the name of honour
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
such an exploit have i in hand, ligarius, had you a healthful ear to hear of it
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 conjur’d 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?
By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honourable loins! you, like an exorcist, hast conjur’d 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?
By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! Brave son, derived from honourable loins! you, like an exorcist, hast conjur’d 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?
by all the gods that romans bow before, i here discard my sickness
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
a piece of work that will make sick men whole
But are not some whole that we must make sick?
But are not some whole that we must make sick?
But are not some whole that we must make sick?
but are not some whole that we must make sick
That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going,
To whom it must be done.
That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to you, as we are going, To whom it must be done.
That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to you, as we're going, To whom it must be done.
that must we also
Set on your foot,
And with a heart new-fir’d I follow you,
To do I know not what; but it sufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.
Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fir’d I follow you, To do I know not what; but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on.
Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fir’d I follow you, To do I know not what; but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on.
set on your foot, and with a heart new-fir’d i follow you, to do i know not what; but it sufficeth that brutus leads me on
Follow me then.
Follow me then.
Follow me then.
follow me then
The Reckoning
This is Brutus's longest scene, and the most damning: we watch a good man reason his way into catastrophe, step by careful step, and every step is the wrong one. He spares Antony; he refuses the oath; he dismisses Cicero; and he lies to his wife's face before immediately promising to tell her everything. The audience knows what he cannot know: that these are all fatal errors. He leaves for the Capitol a man who believes he's doing the right thing, which is exactly what makes the tragedy.
If this happened today…
A highly respected senior partner at a law firm spends the night alone in his office convincing himself that pre-emptively forcing out the firm's most powerful rainmaker is the only ethical option — not because the rainmaker has done anything wrong, but because of what he might do with more power. He writes the memo at 3 AM, refuses to loop in the ethics team ('we don't need a formal process — our word is enough'), vetoes any plan to fire the rainmaker's loyal deputy ('too aggressive'), and tells his wife over breakfast that he just 'couldn't sleep.' By the time his colleagues arrive at 8, he's hosting them for coffee with a smile and calling it a good morning.