Unit 4: The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Acts 3–5

Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
An humble heart.

I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turn preordinance and first decree
Into the law of children.

There shall I try,
In my oration, how the people take
The cruel issue of these bloody men,
According to the which thou shalt discourse
To young Octavius of the state of things.

There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and death for his ambition.

The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious;
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue.

It is a creature that I teach to fight,
To wind, to stop, to run directly on,
His corporal motion govern’d by my spirit

The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here?
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.

You know that I held Epicurus strong,
And his opinion; now I change my mind,
And partly credit things that do presage.

Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch’d,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers’ hands,
Who to Philippi here consorted us.

All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

O error, soon conceiv’d,
Thou never com’st unto a happy birth,
But kill’st the mother that engend’red thee!

Didst thou not hear their shouts?
Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing.