Julius Caesar Act 3 Scene 2

We want answers! Give us answers!

Then follow me and listen, friends. —

Cassius, go into the other street

and split the crowd. —

Anyone who wants to hear me, stay here.

Anyone who'd rather follow Cassius, go with him.

And the public reasons for Caesar's death

will be given.

I'll hear Brutus.

I'll hear Cassius, and compare their reasons

once we've heard them both separately.

Noble Brutus has gone up. Quiet.

Be patient to the end.

Romans, countrymen, friends — hear me out about my

reasons, and be quiet so you can hear. Believe me

because of my honour, and respect my honour

so that you can believe me. Judge me with your good sense,

and sharpen your wits so you can judge

better. If there's anyone in this crowd, any close

friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus loved

Caesar no less than he did. And if that friend

asks why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my

answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved

Rome more. Would you rather Caesar were alive and

you all died slaves, than that Caesar were dead and you all

lived free? Because Caesar loved me, I weep for him. Because he

was successful, I'm glad of it. Because he was brave, I

honour him. But because he was ambitious, I killed him.

There are tears for his love, joy for his success, honour

for his courage — and death for his ambition. Is there anyone

here so low that he'd want to be a slave? If so,

speak up — I've wronged him. Is there anyone so ignorant

that he wouldn't want to be a Roman? If so, speak — I've

wronged him. Is there anyone so vile that he doesn't

love his country? If so, speak — I've

wronged him. I'll pause for an answer. (He argues from principle and asks for logical agreement. It works — for about four minutes.)

Nobody, Brutus, nobody.

Then I've wronged nobody. I've done no

more to Caesar than you'd do to Brutus. The

matter of his death is recorded in the Capitol — his

glory not diminished where he deserved credit, nor

his offences exaggerated, for which he was killed.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony,

who, though he had no part in his death, will

get the benefit of it — a position in the

state. And which of you won't? I'll leave you

with this: that just as I killed my dearest friend for the

good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself

whenever my country needs my death.

Long live Brutus! Live! Live!

Carry him home in triumph!

Give him a statue beside his ancestors!

Make him Caesar!

Caesar's best qualities

will be crowned in Brutus. (They have just proposed crowning the man who killed a man for possibly wanting a crown.)

We'll take him home with shouting and cheering!

Countrymen—

Quiet! Silence! Brutus is speaking.

Quiet!

Good countrymen, let me leave on my own,

and for my sake stay here with Antony.

Show respect to Caesar's body, and to the speech

about Caesar's achievements which Mark Antony

is permitted, by our leave, to make.

I beg you, let nobody leave

except me, until Antony has spoken. (He orders the crowd to stay and listen. He then leaves.)

Stay! Let's hear Mark Antony!

Let him go up onto the platform.

We'll hear him. — Noble Antony, go up.

For Brutus's sake, I'm obliged to you.

What's he saying about Brutus?

He says that for Brutus's sake

he's obliged to all of us.

He'd better not say anything bad about Brutus here.

This Caesar was a tyrant.

That's certain.

We're lucky Rome's rid of him.

Quiet — let's hear what Antony has to say. (Remember where the crowd stands right now. Track how fast it moves.)

Gentle Romans—

Quiet! Let's hear him.

Friends, Romans, countrymen — lend me your ears.

I've come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil men do outlives them;

the good is often buried with their bones.

Let that be so with Caesar. The noble Brutus

has told you Caesar was ambitious.

If that were true, it was a serious fault,

and Caesar has paid for it seriously.

Here, by permission of Brutus and the others —

for Brutus is an honourable man,

and so are they all, all honourable men —

I come to speak at Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend, loyal and fair to me.

But Brutus says he was ambitious,

and Brutus is an honourable man.

He brought many prisoners home to Rome

whose ransoms filled the public treasury.

Did that seem ambitious in Caesar?

When the poor wept, Caesar wept with them.

Ambition ought to be made of tougher material.

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

and Brutus is an honourable man.

You all saw that at the Lupercal festival

I offered him a king's crown three times,

and three times he refused it. Was that ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

and I'm sure he's an honourable man. (Four repetitions. Each one turns 'honourable' a little more sour, and he never once contradicts Brutus outright.)

I'm not speaking to disprove what Brutus said,

only to say what I know for myself.

You all loved him once, and with good reason.

What reason stops you mourning for him now? —

Oh, good judgment, you've fled to the animals,

and men have lost their reason! — Bear with me.

My heart is in that coffin there with Caesar,

and I have to stop until it comes back to me.

I think there's a lot of sense in what he says.

If you think about it properly,

Caesar's been badly wronged.

Has he, friends?

I'm afraid someone worse will take his place.

Did you catch that? He refused the crown.

So he definitely wasn't ambitious.

If that turns out to be true, somebody will pay dearly.

Poor man — his eyes are red as fire from crying.

There's no nobler man in Rome than Antony.

Listen now — he's starting again.

Only yesterday Caesar's word could

have stood against the world. Now he lies there,

and nobody's poor enough to pay him respect.

Friends, if I were inclined to stir

your hearts and minds to riot and rage,

I'd be wronging Brutus and wronging Cassius,

who, as you all know, are honourable men.

I won't wrong them. I'd rather

wrong the dead, and wrong myself and you,

than wrong such honourable men.

But here's a document with Caesar's seal on it.

I found it in his study. It's his will.

If the common people could just hear this will —

which, forgive me, I don't intend to read —

they'd go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds

and dip their handkerchiefs in his sacred blood,

yes, and beg a hair of his as a keepsake,

and mention it in their own wills when they died,

leaving it as a rich inheritance

to their children. (He says he won't read it, then describes in detail how they'd react if he did. He is teaching them what to demand.)

We'll hear the will! Read it, Mark Antony!

The will! The will! We want to hear Caesar's will!

Be patient, good friends. I mustn't read it.

It isn't right that you should know how much Caesar loved you.

You aren't wood, you aren't stones — you're men.

And being men, hearing Caesar's will

would inflame you. It would drive you mad.

It's better you don't know that you're his heirs —

because if you did, what would come of it?

Read the will! We'll hear it, Antony!

You will read us the will — Caesar's will!

Will you be patient? Will you wait a moment?

I've gone too far in mentioning it at all.

I'm afraid I'm wronging the honourable men

whose daggers stabbed Caesar. I really fear it.

They were traitors! Honourable men?

The will! The testament!

They were villains, murderers! The will! Read the will!

So you're forcing me to read the will?

Then form a circle round Caesar's body,

and let me show you the man who made it.

Shall I come down? Will you allow it?

Come down!

Come down!

You have our permission.

Form a circle — gather round.

Stand back from the bier. Back from the body.

Make room for Antony — most noble Antony!

Don't crowd me so. Stand back.

Stand back! Make room! Get back!

If you have tears, get ready to shed them now.

You all recognise this cloak. I remember

the very first time Caesar put it on.

It was on a summer evening in his tent,

the day he defeated the Nervii.

Look — here is where Cassius's dagger went through.

See what a tear the jealous Casca made.

Through this one the well-loved Brutus stabbed —

and as he pulled his cursed blade out,

see how Caesar's blood followed it,

as if rushing out of doors to find out

whether it was really Brutus knocking so cruelly.

Because Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's darling.

Gods, judge how dearly Caesar loved him!

That was the cruellest cut of all.

When noble Caesar saw him stab,

ingratitude, stronger than any traitor's arm,

utterly defeated him. Then his mighty heart burst,

and wrapping his face in his cloak,

right at the foot of Pompey's statue

— which was running with blood all the while — great Caesar fell.

What a fall that was, countrymen!

Then I, and you, and all of us fell,

while bloody treason triumphed over us.

Now you're weeping, and I can see you feel

the stab of pity. Those are gracious tears.

Kind souls — you weep at merely seeing

our Caesar's clothing damaged? Look here:

here is the man himself, ruined, as you see, by traitors.

What a pitiful sight!

Noble Caesar!

What a terrible day!

Traitors! Villains!

What a bloody sight!

We'll have revenge!

Revenge! Move! Hunt them! Burn! Fire! Kill!

Slaughter them! Don't let a traitor live!

Wait, countrymen.

Quiet! Hear noble Antony.

We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him!

Good friends, sweet friends — don't let me stir you

into such a sudden flood of rebellion.

The men who did this are honourable.

What private grievances they had, I don't know,

that made them do it. They're wise and honourable

and will no doubt give you their reasons.

I haven't come, friends, to steal your hearts away.

I'm no public speaker, the way Brutus is,

but as you all know me, a plain blunt man

who loved his friend — and they know that perfectly well,

the men who gave me public permission to speak about him.

I have no cleverness, no words, no standing,

no gestures, no delivery, no power of speech

to stir men's blood. I just say things plainly.

I tell you what you already know.

I show you sweet Caesar's wounds — poor speechless mouths —

and let them speak for me. But if I were Brutus,

and Brutus were Antony, then there'd be an Antony

who would rouse your spirits and put a tongue

in every one of Caesar's wounds, enough to make

the very stones of Rome rise up and riot. (He describes exactly the speech he is giving while insisting he is incapable of giving it.)

We'll riot!

We'll burn Brutus's house down!

Let's go then. Come on — find the conspirators!

Hear me out, countrymen — let me finish.

Quiet! Hear Antony — most noble Antony!

Friends, you're rushing off without knowing what you're doing.

How has Caesar earned this love of yours?

You don't know. So I'll have to tell you.

You've forgotten the will I mentioned.

Quite right! The will! Let's stay and hear the will!

Here's the will, under Caesar's own seal.

To every Roman citizen he gives —

to each individual man — seventy-five drachmas.

Most noble Caesar! We'll avenge his death!

Royal Caesar!

Hear me patiently.

Quiet!

What's more, he's left you all his gardens,

his private shaded walks and newly planted orchards

on this side of the Tiber. He's left them to you

and your descendants forever — public parks

to walk in and enjoy yourselves.

There was a Caesar! When will there be another like him?

Never! Never! — Come on, let's go!

We'll burn his body in the sacred place

and use the torches to set fire to the traitors' houses.

Pick up the body.

Go and get fire!

Tear down the benches!

Tear down seats, window frames, anything!

Now let it do its work. Chaos, you're loose —

take whatever course you like. (Six words that undo the entire conspiracy. He never once said 'rise up.')

Well, man?

Sir, Octavius has already arrived in Rome.

Where is he?

He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.

I'll go straight there to see him.

He's come exactly as I'd have wished. Fortune is in a good mood

and in this mood will give us anything.

I heard him say that Brutus and Cassius

have ridden out through the gates of Rome like madmen.

They must have had word about the people —

how I'd stirred them up. Take me to Octavius.