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Modern English
O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! Myself have to mine own turn’d enemy: This ensign here of mine was turning back; I slew the coward, and did take it from him.
Oh, look, Titinius, look, the enemies are fleeing! I have turned against my own side: This banner of mine was being pulled back; I killed the coward and took it from him.
O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early; Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil, Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed.
Oh Cassius, Brutus gave the order too soon; He, having some advantage over Octavius, Took it too eagerly: his soldiers started to loot, While we, surrounded by Antony, are all trapped.
Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.
Run away further, my lord, run away further; Mark Antony is in your camp, my lord Run, therefore, noble Cassius, run far away.
This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius; Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?
This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius; Are those my tents where I see the fire?
They are, my lord.
Yes, my lord.
Titinius, if thou lovest me, Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, And here again; that I may rest assured Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.
Titinius, if you love me, Get on my horse, and hide your spurs in him, Until he takes you to those troops over there, And then brings you back; so I can know for sure Whether those troops are friends or enemies.
I will be here again, even with a thought.
I will be back before you even have time to think.
Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, And tell me what thou notest about the field.
Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; My sight has always been poor; watch Titinius, And tell me what you see happening on the field.
This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end; My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news?
This is the day I was born: time has come full circle, And where I began, that’s where I’ll end; My life has run its course. Sirrah, what’s the news?
[Above] O my lord!
[Above] Oh my lord!
What news?
What’s the news?
[Above] Titinius is enclosed round about With horsemen, that make to him on the spur; Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too. He’s ta’en.
[Above] Titinius is surrounded by cavalry, Who are charging at him; yet he keeps riding on. Now they’re almost upon him. Now, Titinius! Now something’s happening. Oh, he stops. He’s been captured.
And, hark! they shout for joy.
And listen! They’re shouting for joy.
Come down, behold no more. O, coward that I am, to live so long, To see my best friend ta’en before my face!
Come down, I can’t watch anymore. Oh, what a coward I am, to live this long, And see my best friend taken right in front of me!
Come hither, sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, That whatsoever I did bid thee do, Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath; Now be a freeman: and with this good sword, That ran through Caesar’s bowels, search this bosom. Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts; And, when my face is cover’d, as ’tis now, Guide thou the sword.
Come here, slave: I captured you in Parthia; And then I swore to you, that if I spared your life, Whatever I told you to do, you would do it. Now keep your oath; Be a free man: and with this good sword, That pierced Caesar’s body, stab my heart. Don’t hesitate: here, take the hilt; And when my face is covered, like it is now, Guide the sword into me.
Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that kill’d thee.
Caesar, you have been avenged, Even by the sword that killed you.
So, I am free; yet would not so have been, Durst I have done my will. O Cassius, Far from this country Pindarus shall run, Where never Roman shall take note of him.
So, I am free; though I wouldn’t have been free If I had done what I wanted. Oh Cassius, Far from this land, Pindarus will run, Where no Roman will ever notice him.
It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius Is overthrown by noble Brutus’ power, As Cassius’ legions are by Antony.
It’s just a change, Titinius; because Octavius Has been defeated by noble Brutus’ army, Just like Cassius’ legions were defeated by Antony.
These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
This news will comfort Cassius greatly.
Where did you leave him?
Where did you leave him?
All disconsolate, With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.
Completely heartbroken, With Pindarus, his servant, on this hill.
Is not that he t hat lies upon the ground?
Is that not the man who lies on the ground?
He lies not like the living. O my heart!
He doesn’t look like he’s alive. Oh, my heart!
Is not that he?
Is that not him?
No, this was he, Messala, But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night, So in his red blood Cassius’ day is set; The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done! Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.
No, that was him, Messala, But Cassius is no more. Oh, setting sun, As you sink in your red rays tonight, So in his red blood Cassius’ life is over; The sun of Rome has set! Our day is gone; Clouds, dew, and dangers are coming; our work is done! Doubt about my success caused this.
Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy’s child, Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error, soon conceived, Thou never comest unto a happy birth, But kill’st the mother that engender’d thee!
Doubt about good success caused this. Oh, hateful mistake, child of sadness, Why do you show to the hopeful minds of men Things that aren’t real? Oh, mistake, quickly born, You never bring about a happy result, But you kill the mother who gave birth to you!
What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?
What, Pindarus! Where are you, Pindarus?
Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet The noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it; For piercing steel and darts envenomed Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus As tidings of this sight.
Look for him, Titinius, while I go to tell The noble Brutus this news, And put it in his ears; I can say, put it, Because sharp steel and poisoned darts Will be as welcome to Brutus’ ears As news of this sight.
Hie you, Messala, And I will seek for Pindarus the while.
Go, Messala, And I will look for Pindarus in the meantime.
Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they Put on my brows this wreath of victory, And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing! But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. By your leave, gods:--this is a Roman’s part Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titinius’ heart.
Why did you send me away, brave Cassius? Didn’t I meet your friends? And didn’t they Place this victory wreath on my head, And ask me to give it to you? Didn’t you hear their cheers? Oh no, you’ve misunderstood everything! But here, take this crown on your head; Brutus told me to give it to you, and I Will do as he asked. Brutus, hurry, And see how I honored Caius Cassius. Forgive me, gods: this is what a Roman does Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titinius’ heart.
Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Where, where, Messala, is his body?
Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
Over there, and Titinius is mourning over it.
Titinius’ face is upward.
Titinius’ face is turned upward.
He is slain.
He’s dead.
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords In our own proper entrails.
Oh Julius Caesar, you’re still powerful! Your spirit is still out there, turning our swords In our own bellies.
Brave Titinius! Look, whether he have not crown’d dead Cassius!
Brave Titinius! Look, isn’t he laying the crown on dead Cassius?
Are yet two Romans living such as these? The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay. I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body: His funerals shall not be in our camp, Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come; And come, young Cato; let us to the field. Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on: ’Tis three o’clock; and, Romans, yet ere night We shall try fortune in a second fight.
Are there still two Romans alive like these? The last of all the Romans, farewell! It’s impossible for Rome To ever produce someone like you. Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you’ll see me shed. I will find time, Cassius, I will find time. Come, and let’s send his body to Thasos: His funeral won’t be in our camp, So it doesn’t bring us down. Lucilius, come; And come, young Cato; let’s head for the battlefield. Labeo and Flavius, position our troops: It’s three o’clock; and, Romans, before night We’ll try our luck in a second battle.