I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar,
And things unluckily charge my fantasy.
I have no will to wander forth of doors,
Yet something leads me forth.
I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar, And things unluckily charge my fantasy. I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth.
I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar, And things unluckily charge my fantasy. I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth.
i dreamt tonight that i did feast with caesar, and things unluckily charge my fantasy
What is your name?
What is your name?
What is your name?
what is your name
Whither are you going?
Whither are you going?
Whither are you going?
whither are you going
Where do you dwell?
Where do you dwell?
Where do you dwell?
where do you dwell
Are you a married man or a bachelor?
Are you a married man or a bachelor?
Are you a married man or a bachelor?
are you a married man or a bachelor
Shakespeare wrote the death of Cinna the poet from a single line in Plutarch: 'the people, mistaking him for the other Cinna who was one of Caesar's murderers, set upon him.' Plutarch gives it one sentence. Shakespeare gives it a scene, and the scene is doing something very precise. The name 'Cinna' is the play's connecting thread between conspiracy and innocent bystander: Cinna the conspirator carried the forged letters to Brutus in 1-3; now Cinna the poet carries the same name to his death in 3-3. Shakespeare has set this up deliberately. The repeated name is not accidental — it's the play's demonstration that category errors kill. Most historical mob violence doesn't target individuals; it targets categories. Jews. Tutsis. Kulaks. The individual is irrelevant to the mob's logic: they hold the name, the category condemns them, that's sufficient. The Fourth Citizen's line — 'his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart' — is frightening precisely because it is lucid. He isn't confused. He knows this is the wrong man. He has simply decided the name matters more than the man.
Answer every man directly.
Answer every man directly.
Answer every man directly.
answer every man directly
Ay, and briefly.
Ay, and briefly.
Ay, and briefly.
ay, and briefly
Ay, and wisely.
Ay, and wisely.
Ay, and wisely.
ay, and wisely
Ay, and truly, you were best.
Ay, and truly, you were best.
Ay, and truly, you were best.
ay, and truly, you were best
What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married
man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly,
wisely and truly. Wisely I say I am a bachelor.
What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly. Wisely I say I am a bachelor.
What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly. Wisely I say I'm a bachelor.
what is my name
That’s as much as to say they are fools that marry; you’ll bear me a
bang for that, I fear. Proceed, directly.
That’s as much as to say they are fools that marry; you’ll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed, directly.
That’s as much as to say they are fools that marry; you’ll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed, directly.
that’s as much as to say they are fools that marry; you’ll bear me a bang for that, i fear
The mob's interrogation of Cinna — name? destination? dwelling? married or single? — plays initially as dark comedy. The precision of their bureaucratic questions is absurd: they are proceeding methodically through a questionnaire while standing in the street after a riot, covered in blood (presumably), on their way to burn the city. Cinna plays along because he has no choice, echoing their own adverbs back at them ('directly and briefly, wisely and truly'), answering each question carefully. The comedy is crucial to the scene's impact. If the mob had been savage from the first line, the audience would be afraid but not shocked. The joke gives the audience a half-second of relief — then takes it away permanently. When 'Cinna' falls out of his mouth, the comedy collapses instantly into violence. This tonal shift — from darkly funny to suddenly terrible — is one of Shakespeare's signature effects. It appears in Hamlet (the gravediggers), in King Lear (the Fool), and most brutally here. The laugh sets up the horror.
Directly, I am going to Caesar’s funeral.
Directly, I am going to Caesar’s funeral.
Directly, I'm going to Caesar’s funeral.
directly, i am going to caesar’s funeral
As a friend, or an enemy?
As a friend, or an enemy?
As a friend, or an enemy?
as a friend, or an enemy
As a friend.
As a friend.
As a friend.
as a friend
That matter is answered directly.
That matter is answered directly.
That matter is answered directly.
that matter is answered directly
For your dwelling, briefly.
For your dwelling, briefly.
For your dwelling, briefly.
for your dwelling, briefly
Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.
Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.
Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.
briefly, i dwell by the capitol
Cinna is specifically a poet — and his death is specifically connected to his poetry, even if only sarcastically. 'Tear him for his bad verses' is one of Shakespeare's strangest jokes, but it has an undertow: in a world where names determine fate and crowds decide everything, what protection does artistic identity offer? None. 'I am Cinna the poet' is a profession of artistic identity, an assertion that being a maker of verse is a different thing from being a political actor. The mob dismisses the distinction. Shakespeare wrote this, presumably, as a working playwright in a world where plays were politically dangerous, where writers were sometimes imprisoned for their words, where the wrong word at the wrong moment could make you the wrong person. The death of Cinna the poet is the play's most direct acknowledgment that art offers no protection against violence. The poems don't save him. If anything, they provide the mob's secondary indictment.
Your name, sir, truly.
Your name, sir, truly.
Your name, sir, truly.
your name, sir, truly
Truly, my name is Cinna.
Truly, my name is Cinna.
Truly, my name is Cinna.
truly, my name is cinna
Tear him to pieces! He’s a conspirator.
Tear him to pieces! He’s a conspirator.
Tear him to pieces! He’s a conspirator.
tear him to pieces
I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.
I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.
I'm Cinna the poet, I'm Cinna the poet.
i am cinna the poet, i am cinna the poet
Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.
Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.
Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.
tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses
I am not Cinna the conspirator.
I am not Cinna the conspirator.
I'm not Cinna the conspirator.
i am not cinna the conspirator
It is no matter, his name’s Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart,
and turn him going.
It is no matter, his name’s Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.
It is no matter, his name’s Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.
it is no matter, his name’s cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going
Tear him, tear him! Come; brands, ho! firebrands. To Brutus’, to
Cassius’; burn all. Some to Decius’ house, and some to Casca’s, some to
Ligarius’. Away, go!
Tear him, tear him! Come; brands, ho! firebrands. To Brutus’, to Cassius’; burn all. Some to Decius’ house, and some to Casca’s, some to Ligarius’. Away, go!
Tear him, tear him! Come; brands, ho! firebrands. To Brutus’, to Cassius’; burn all. Some to Decius’ house, and some to Casca’s, some to Ligarius’. Away, go!
tear him, tear him
The Reckoning
This is the shortest scene in the play and one of the cruelest. Its job is to show what Antony's 'mischief afoot' actually looks like at ground level: the death of a completely innocent man for the crime of having the wrong name. The scene is darkly comic for a few lines — the mob's interrogation is almost bureaucratic — and then it is horrifying. Cinna the poet knows he is in danger, says his name anyway because he must, and is destroyed for it. The wrong Cinna dies. The right Cinna — the conspirator — will appear again later.
If this happened today…
A man named Harvey Weinstein — a teacher, completely unconnected to the producer — is walking down the street when a social media pile-on about the other Harvey Weinstein reaches fever pitch. Someone recognizes his name from a shared post. He explains repeatedly that he is a different Harvey Weinstein. The explanation makes no difference. The name is enough.