JULIUS CAESAR. William Shakespeare

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       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.

       BRUTUS.

       Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

       That you would have me seek into myself

       For that which is not in me?

       CASSIUS.

       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.

       [Flourish and shout.]

       BRUTUS.

       What means this shouting? I do fear the people

       Choose Caesar for their king.

       CASSIUS.

       Ay, do you fear it?

       Then must I think you would not have it so.

       BRUTUS.

       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’ the 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.

       CASSIUS.

       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, “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 color fly;

       And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

       Did lose his luster. 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.]

       BRUTUS.

       Another general shout!

       I do believe that these applauses are

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

       CASSIUS.

       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, СКАЧАТЬ