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Modern English
Calpurnia!
Calpurnia!
Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.
Quiet! Caesar is speaking.
Calpurnia!
Calpurnia!
Here, my lord.
Yes, my lord.
Stand you directly in Antonius’ way, When he doth run his course. Antonius!
Stand right in Antonius’ path, When he runs his race. Antonius!
Caesar, my lord?
Caesar, my lord?
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.
Don’t forget, in your hurry, Antonius, To touch Calpurnia; because our elders say, That women who can’t have children, touched during this holy ritual, Will shake off their curse of infertility.
I shall remember: When Caesar says ’do this,’ it is perform’d.
I will remember: When Caesar says "do this," it gets done.
Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
Go ahead; and don’t skip any part of the ceremony.
Caesar!
Caesar!
Ha! who calls?
Huh! Who’s calling?
Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!
Tell everyone to be quiet: Peace, once again!
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.
Who is it in the crowd calling me? I hear a voice, sharper than all the music, Crying "Caesar!" Speak; Caesar is listening.
Beware the ides of March.
Beware the ides of March.
What man is that?
What man is that?
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
A soothsayer warns you to beware the ides of March.
Set him before me; let me see his face.
Bring him here; let me see his face.
Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.
Hey, man, come away from the crowd; look at Caesar.
What say’st thou to me now? speak once again.
What do you want from me now? Speak again.
Beware the ides of March.
Watch out for the Ides of March.
He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
He’s just a dreamer; let’s leave him: go on.
Will you go see the order of the course?
Are you going to watch the race?
Not I.
Not me.
I pray you, do.
Please, do.
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.
I’m not in the mood for games: I lack some of the quick energy that Antony has. Don’t let me hold you back, Cassius, I’ll leave you.
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, I’ve noticed something about you lately: You don’t show the kindness and affection you used to. You’ve become too harsh and distant with your friend who loves you.
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 be grieved-- 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.
Cassius, Don’t misunderstand me: if I’ve been hiding my feelings, it’s because I’ve been troubled inside, dealing with personal issues that I’m keeping to myself. They might explain some of my behavior, but don’t let my friends be upset by it— among them, Cassius, you are one— don’t read too much into my distance, just know that I’m struggling internally, and sometimes I forget to show affection to others.
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?
Then, Brutus, I’ve misunderstood your feelings; because of that, I’ve buried important thoughts, thoughts that matter. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see yourself clearly?
No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.
No, Cassius; because the eye can’t see itself, except through reflection, through something else.
’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.
That’s true: And it’s a shame, Brutus, that you don’t have mirrors that could show your true value to you, so you could see how great you really are. I’ve heard, from many people in Rome who respect you, except for Caesar, speaking about Brutus and lamenting the burdens of this time, wish that noble Brutus could see himself.
Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
What kind of dangers are you trying to lead me into, Cassius, that you want me to search within myself for something that’s not there?
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared 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 laugher, 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.
So, Brutus, be ready to hear me out: since you know you can’t see yourself as clearly as through a reflection, I, your mirror, will gently show you things about yourself that you don’t yet know. And don’t be suspicious of me, gentle Brutus: If I were a common flatterer, or if I used cheap oaths to show my affection to anyone who made a promise; if you knew I fawned over men and hugged them tightly only to later criticize them, or if you knew I pretended to be friends with everyone at a banquet, then you could consider me dangerous.
What means this shouting? I do fear, the people Choose Caesar for their king.
What’s all this noise? I’m afraid the people Are making Caesar their king.
Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so.
Oh, are you afraid of that? Then I must think you wouldn’t want that to happen.
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 honour in one eye and death i’ the other, And I will look on both indifferently, For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more than I fear death.
I wouldn’t, Cassius; but I do like him a lot. But why are you keeping me here so long? What do you want to tell me? If it’s something for the public good, I’ll put honor in one eye and death in the other, And I’ll look at both the same way, Because let the gods help me as I love The idea of honor more than I fear death.
I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour 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 ’Darest 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 proposed, 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 colour 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.
I know that kind of virtue is in you, Brutus, Just like I know what you look like on the outside. Well, honor is what I want to talk about. I can’t say what you and others think about life; But for me personally, I’d rather not exist than live in fear Of something like me. I was born free, just like Caesar; so were you: We’ve both eaten well, and we can both Handle the winter cold just as well as he can: Once, on a cold and windy day, The Tiber River was getting rough with its banks, Caesar said to me, "Cassius, do you dare Jump in with me into this wild river, And swim to that point over there?" At his word, Fully dressed as I was, I jumped in And told him to follow me; and he did. The river roared, and we fought against it With strong muscles, pushing it away And fighting it with hearts full of struggle; But before we could reach the spot he mentioned, Caesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I’ll drown!" I, like Aeneas, our great ancestor, Carried the old Anchises on my shoulder From the flames of Troy, so I carried Caesar Out of the waves of the Tiber. And this man Has now become a god, while Cassius is A miserable creature, forced to bow down, If Caesar merely nods at him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fever hit him, I noticed How he shook: it’s true, this god did shake; His cowardly lips turned pale, And that same eye, which makes the world tremble, Lost its sparkle: I heard him groan: Yes, and that tongue of his, which told the Romans To remember him and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried, "Give me a drink, Titinius," Like a sick girl. Gods, it amazes me That a man of such a weak nature could Rise above the great world And claim all the power for himself.
Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heap’d on Caesar.
Another cheer! I believe these cheers are For some new honor being given to Caesar.
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 dishonourable 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 shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was famed with more than with one man? When could they say till now, that talk’d of Rome, That her wide walls 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 The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king.
Why, man, he walks across the narrow world Like a giant, and we little men Walk under his enormous legs and look around To find ourselves with dishonorable graves. Men sometimes are in charge of their own fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar: what’s in that name ’Caesar’? Why should that name be spoken more than yours? Write them together, your name is as good; Say them out loud, they fit in the mouth just as well; Weigh them, they’re just as heavy; conjure with them, Brutus will summon a spirit as easily as Caesar. Now, in the names of all the gods, What is it that Caesar feeds on, That he’s become so great? Age, you are shamed! Rome, you’ve lost the noble bloodline! When was there an era, since the great flood, That wasn’t known for more than just one man? When could they ever say, talking about Rome, That her wide walls only surrounded one man? Now it’s really just Rome, and big enough, When there’s only one man in it. Oh, you and I have heard our fathers say, There was once a Brutus who would have fought The devil himself to keep his place in Rome Just as easily as a king.
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 moved. 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.
I’m not worried that you love me; I know you do; What you want me to do, I have some idea: How I’ve thought about this and these times, I’ll explain later; for now, I don’t want, with all my love, to ask you to Move me further on this. What you’ve said, I’ll think about; what you want to say I’ll listen to patiently, and we’ll find a time To hear and discuss such big matters. Until then, my noble friend, think about this: Brutus would rather be a simple farmer Than think of himself as a son of Rome Under these harsh conditions that this time Will likely force upon us.
I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.
I’m glad that my weak words Have sparked even this much of a reaction from Brutus.
The games are done and Caesar is returning.
The games are over, and Caesar is coming back.
As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.
As they pass by, grab Casca by the sleeve; And he’ll, in his usual sour way, tell you What has happened today that’s worth noting.
I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar’s brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train: Calpurnia’s cheek is pale; and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being cross’d in conference by some senators.
I’ll do that. But look, Cassius, Caesar has a frown on his face, And everyone else looks like they’ve been scolded: Calpurnia looks pale; and Cicero Has that wild, fiery look in his eyes Like we’ve seen him have in the Capitol, When he’s been upset in talks with the senators.
Casca will tell us what the matter is.
Casca will tell us what’s going on.
Antonius!
Antonius!
Caesar?
Caesar?
Let me have men about me that are fat; Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’ nights: Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
I want men around me who are fat; Well-fed men, and those who sleep at night: That Cassius over there looks thin and hungry; He thinks too much: men like that are dangerous.
Fear him not, Caesar; he’s not dangerous; He is a noble Roman and well given.
Don’t worry about him, Caesar; he’s not dangerous; He’s a noble Roman and well-respected.
Would he were fatter! But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock’d himself and scorn’d his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart’s ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be fear’d Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think’st of him.
I wish he were fatter! But I’m not afraid of him: But if I were ever afraid, I wouldn’t know who I should avoid more than that thin Cassius. He reads a lot; He’s very observant, and he sees right through people’s actions: he doesn’t enjoy plays, like you do, Antony; he doesn’t listen to music; He rarely smiles, and when he does, it’s a smile like he’s mocking himself, or scornful of his own spirit that could be moved to smile at anything. Men like him are never at ease when they see someone greater than themselves, which makes them very dangerous. I’d rather tell you what I’m afraid of than what I actually fear; because I’m always Caesar. Stand on my right, since this ear is deaf, and tell me honestly what you think of him.
You pull’d me by the cloak; would you speak with me?
You grabbed my cloak; do you want to talk to me?
Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day, That Caesar looks so sad.
Yes, Casca; tell us what happened today, that made Caesar look so sad.
Why, you were with him, were you not?
Well, you were with him, weren’t you?
I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.
If I had been with him, I wouldn’t need to ask you what happened.
Why, there was a crown offered him: and being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.
Well, they offered him a crown: and when it was offered to him, he pushed it away with the back of his hand, like this; and then the people started shouting.
What was the second noise for?
What was the second shout about?
Why, for that too.
Well, that too.
They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?
They shouted three times: what was the last shout for?
Why, for that too.
Well, that too.
Was the crown offered him thrice?
Was the crown offered to him three times?
Ay, marry, was’t, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other, and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted.
Yes, indeed, and each time he refused it, more gently than before, and every time he turned it down, my honest neighbors cheered.
Who offered him the crown?
Who offered him the crown?
Why, Antony.
It was Antony.
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
Tell us how it happened, good Casca.
I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;--yet ’twas not a crown neither, ’twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by: and still as he refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
I might as well be hanged as tell you how it happened: it was just foolishness; I wasn’t paying attention. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown;—but it wasn’t really a crown, it was one of those little coronets;—and, as I said, he pushed it away the first time. But honestly, I think he would have liked to have it. Then Antony offered it to him again; he pushed it away again. But I think he really didn’t want to let go of it. Then Antony offered it a third time; Caesar pushed it away again. And every time he refused, the crowd hooted and clapped their hands, threw up their dirty hats, and breathed out such foul air because Caesar refused the crown that it almost made him choke; he fainted and fell down from it. And as for me, I didn’t dare laugh, because I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d breathe in the bad air.
But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound?
Wait, hold on: what, did Caesar faint?
He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless.
He fell down in the marketplace, foamed at the mouth, and couldn’t speak.
’Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness.
That sounds about right: he’s got the sickness that makes people faint.
No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.
No, Caesar doesn’t have that sickness; but you and I, And honest Casca, we have the sickness that makes people faint.
I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure, Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man.
I don’t know what you mean by that, but I’m sure Caesar fell down. If the common people didn’t cheer him and boo him, according to what he did that pleased or upset them, like they do with actors in the theatre, then I’m not a real man.
What said he when he came unto himself?
What did he say when he came to his senses?
Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried ’Alas, good soul!’ and forgave him with all their hearts: but there’s no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.
Well, before he fainted, when he saw the crowd was happy he refused the crown, he ripped open his jacket and offered them his throat to cut. If I’d been a man with any kind of job, and hadn’t taken him seriously, I’d wish I could go to hell with the scoundrels. And then he fell down. When he came back to his senses, he said, if he’d done or said anything wrong, he wanted the people to think it was just his weakness. Three or four women where I was standing cried, “Poor soul!” and forgave him with all their hearts; but they’re not worth listening to; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.
And after that, he came, thus sad, away?
And after that, he left, looking so sad?
Ay.
Yes.
Did Cicero say any thing?
Did Cicero say anything?
Ay, he spoke Greek.
Yes, he spoke in Greek.
To what effect?
What did he say?
Nay, an I tell you that, Ill ne’er look you i’ the face again: but those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesar’s images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it.
No, if I tell you that, I’ll never look you in the face again: but those who understood him smiled at each other and shook their heads; but as for me, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too: Marullus and Flavius, for taking down scarves from Caesar’s statues, have been silenced. Goodbye. There was more foolishness, if I could remember it.
Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?
Will you have dinner with me tonight, Casca?
No, I am promised forth.
No, I’m already committed to something else.
Will you dine with me to-morrow?
Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?
Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner worth the eating.
Yes, if I’m alive and if you still want me to, and if your lunch is worth having.
Good: I will expect you.
Good: I’ll be expecting you.
Do so. Farewell, both.
Alright. Goodbye, both of you.
What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school.
What a blunt guy he’s become! He had more energy when he was in school.
So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.
He’s still the same when it comes to action, In any bold or noble venture, Even though he acts slow on the outside. This roughness is just a way to make his good wit stand out, Which makes people eager to listen to what he says with more interest.
And so it is. For this time I will leave you: To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you.
And that’s true. For now, I’ll leave you: Tomorrow, if you want to talk to me, I’ll come to your house; or if you prefer, You can come to mine, and I’ll wait for you.
I will do so: till then, think of the world.
I’ll do that: until then, think about the world.
Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduced? Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus: If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, He should not humour me. I will this night, In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely Caesar’s ambition shall be glanced at: And after this let Caesar seat him sure; For we will shake him, or worse days endure.
Well, Brutus, you’re noble; but, I see, Your honorable nature could be changed If it’s swayed in the right direction: so it’s best That noble people stick with others like them; For who is so strong that they can’t be tempted? Caesar treats me badly, but he loves Brutus: If I were Brutus and he were Cassius, He wouldn’t be able to control me. I’ll tonight, Throw letters through his windows, from different hands, As if they came from various citizens, All suggesting how highly Rome thinks of his name; In these letters, Caesar’s ambition will be subtly hinted at: And after this, let Caesar sit comfortably; For we will shake him, or endure worse days.