Julius Caesar

by William Shakespeare

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;

Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge.

Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men?

As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.

as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones;

For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men—

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason.

See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;

This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.

Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!

OCTAVIUS You may do your will; But he's a tried and valiant soldier. ANTONY So is my horse, Octavius;

for we are at the stake, And bay'd about with many enemies; And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, Millions of mischiefs.

When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, Sink in the trial.

you have done me wrong. BRUTUS Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine enemies? And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother?

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? BRUTUS All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.

BRUTUS I do not like your faults. CASSIUS A friendly eye could never see such faults. BRUTUS A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Even so great men great losses should endure.

Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.

There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

O murderous slumber, Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music?

I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. BRUTUS O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.

since the affairs of men rest still incertain, Let's reason with the worst that may befall.

Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that kill'd thee.

Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

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!

Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing!

I had rather have Such men my friends than enemies.

slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion.

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us.

Caesar, now be still: I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators save only he Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; He only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world 'This was a man!'