The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. Уильям Шекспир

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, is not in our stars,

          But in ourselves that we are underlings.

          Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that "Caesar"?

          Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

          Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

          Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

          Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,

          "Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Caesar."

          Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

          Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed

          That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

          Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

          When went there by an age since the great flood

          But it was famed with more than with one man?

          When could they say till now that talk'd of Rome

          That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?

          Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,

          When there is in it but one only man.

          O, you and I have heard our fathers say

          There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd

          The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

          As easily as a king.

        BRUTUS. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;

          What you would work me to, I have some aim.

          How I have thought of this and of these times,

          I shall recount hereafter; for this present,

          I would not, so with love I might entreat you,

          Be any further moved. What you have said

          I will consider; what you have to say

          I will with patience hear, and find a time

          Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

          Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

          Brutus had rather be a villager

          Than to repute himself a son of Rome

          Under these hard conditions as this time

          Is like to lay upon us.

        CASSIUS. I am glad that my weak words

          Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

      Re-enter Caesar and his Train.

        BRUTUS. The games are done, and Caesar is returning.

        CASSIUS. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve,

          And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

          What hath proceeded worthy note today.

        BRUTUS. I will do so. But, look you, Cassius,

          The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,

          And all the rest look like a chidden train:

          Calpurnia's cheek is pale, and Cicero

          Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes

          As we have seen him in the Capitol,

          Being cross'd in conference by some senators.

        CASSIUS. Casca will tell us what the matter is.

        CAESAR. Antonio!

        ANTONY. Caesar?

        CAESAR. Let me have men about me that are fat,

          Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:

          Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;

          He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

        ANTONY. Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous;

          He is a noble Roman and well given.

        CAESAR. Would he were fatter! But I fear him not,

          Yet if my name were liable to fear,

          I do not know the man I should avoid

          So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much,

          He is a great observer, and he looks

          Quite