JULIUS CAESAR. William Shakespeare

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       To monstrous quality;—why, you shall find

       That Heaven hath infused them with these spirits,

       To make them instruments of fear and warning

       Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, Casca,

       Name to thee a man most like this dreadful night;

       That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars,

       As doth the lion in the Capitol;

       A man no mightier than thyself or me

       In personal action; yet prodigious grown,

       And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

       CASCA.

       ‘Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius?

       CASSIUS.

       Let it be who it is: for Romans now

       Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors;

       But, woe the while! our fathers’ minds are dead,

       And we are govern’d with our mothers’ spirits;

       Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

       CASCA.

       Indeed they say the senators tomorrow

       Mean to establish Caesar as a king;

       And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,

       In every place save here in Italy.

       CASSIUS.

       I know where I will wear this dagger then;

       Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:

       Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;

       Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:

       Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,

       Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron

       Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;

       But life, being weary of these worldly bars,

       Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

       If I know this, know all the world besides,

       That part of tyranny that I do bear

       I can shake off at pleasure.

       [Thunders still.]

       CASCA.

       So can I:

       So every bondman in his own hand bears

       The power to cancel his captivity.

       CASSIUS.

       And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?

       Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,

       But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:

       He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.

       Those that with haste will make a mighty fire

       Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,

       What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves

       For the base matter to illuminate

       So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief,

       Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this

       Before a willing bondman: then I know

       My answer must be made; but I am arm’d,

       And dangers are to me indifferent.

       CASCA.

       You speak to Casca; and to such a man

       That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand:

       Be factious for redress of all these griefs;

       And I will set this foot of mine as far

       As who goes farthest.

       CASSIUS.

       There’s a bargain made.

       Now know you, Casca, I have moved already

       Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans

       To undergo with me an enterprise

       Of honorable-dangerous consequence;

       And I do know by this, they stay for me

       In Pompey’s Porch: for now, this fearful night,

       There is no stir or walking in the streets;

       And the complexion of the element

       Is favor’d like the work we have in hand,

       Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

       CASCA.

       Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

       CASSIUS.

       ‘Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;

       He is a friend.—

       [Enter Cinna.]

       Cinna, where haste you so?

       CINNA.

       To find out you. Who’s that? Metellus Cimber?

       CASSIUS.

       No, it is Casca, one incorporate

       To our attempts. Am I not stay’d for, Cinna?

       CINNA.

       I am glad on’t. What a fearful night is this!

       There’s two or three of us have seen strange sights.

       CASSIUS.

       Am I not stay’d for? tell me.

       CINNA.

       Yes,

       You are. O Cassius, if you could but win

       The noble Brutus to our party,—

       CASSIUS.

       Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper,

       And look you lay it in the praetor’s chair,

       Where Brutus СКАЧАТЬ