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PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource

Scene Study (Male-Male)

CAS.

Will you go see the order of the course?

BRU.

Not I.

CAS.

I pray you do.

BRU.

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.

CAS.

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.

BRU.

Cassius,

Be not deceiv’d. 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 be griev’d

(Among which number, Cassius, be you one),

Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

CAS.

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion,

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

BRU.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.

CAS.

’Tis just,

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard

Where many of the best respect in Rome

(Except immortal Caesar), speaking of Brutus

And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

Have wish’d that noble Brutus had his eyes.

BRU.

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

CAS.

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar’d to hear;

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:

Were I a common laughter, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard,

And after scandal them; or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish and shout.

BRU.

What means this shouting? I do fear the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

CAS.

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

BRU.

I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honor in one eye and death i’ th’ other,

And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

CAS.

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favor.

Well, honor is the subject of my story:

I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but, for my single self,

I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar, so were you;

We both have fed as well, and we can both

Endure the winter’s cold as well as he;

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me, “Dar’st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roar’d, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy;

But ere we could arrive the point propos’d,

Caesar cried, “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!”

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature, and must bend his body

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake—’tis true, this god did shake;

His coward lips did from their color fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his lustre, I did hear him groan;

Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans

Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,

Alas, it cried, “Give me some drink, Titinius,”

As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

Shout. Flourish.

BRU.

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honors that are heap’d on Caesar.

CAS.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates;

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that “Caesar”?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,

“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”

Now in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham’d!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age since the great flood

But it was fam’d with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talk’d of Rome,

That her wide walks encompass’d but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed and room enough,

When there is in it but one only man.

O! you and I have heard our fathers say

There was a Brutus once that would have brook’d

Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.

BRU.

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;

What you would work me to, I have some aim.

How I have thought of this, and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter. For this present,

I would not (so with love I might entreat you)

Be any further mov’d. What you have said

I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under these hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

CAS.

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

 

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