Translation Of Act 3, Scene 1, Julius Caesar Essay, Research Paper A Translation of Act 3, Scene 1 in Julius Caesar Caesar. The ides of March have arrived.
Translation Of Act 3, Scene 1, Julius Caesar Essay, Research Paper
A Translation of Act 3, Scene 1 in Julius Caesar
The ides of March have arrived.
Yes, Caesar, but not left.
Hail, Caesar! Read this document.
Trebonius would like you to read over This his humble request when you have time.
O Caesar, read mine first, because mine’s a request
That is more personally important to you. Read it, great Caesar!
What is important to us personally we will deal with last.
Don’t wait, Caesar. Read it right now!
What, is this man crazy?
Boy, get out of the way!
What, do you present your petitions in the street?
Come to the Capitol.
I hope that your enterprise today is successful today.
What enterprise, Popilius?
What did Popilius Lena say?
He hoped that today our enterprise would be successful.
I am afraid that the reason we are doing this has been discovered.
Look how he approaches Caesar. Watch him.
Casca, be quick, we are afraid of being stopped.
Brutus, what will we do? If our plot is revealed,
Either Cassius or Caesar will not return alive,
Because I will kill myself.
Cassius, stay calm.
Popilius Lena is not talking about our plans,
Look, he smiles, and Caesar’s expression does not change.
Trebonius has good timing, look at Brutus,
He draws Mark Antony out of the way.
Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go
And quickly present his petition to Caesar.
He is ready. Get close to him and back him up.
Casca, you will be the first that raises your hand.
Are we all ready? What’s wrong now
That Caesar and his Senate must make right?
Most high, most mighty, and most powerful Caesar,
Metellus Cimber throws a humble heart infront of your chair.
I must stop you, Cimber.
This bowing and scraping
Might excite ordinary men
And change what has already been decided
Like children change their minds.
Do not be foolish
And think that Caear’s heart has weak blood and
That it will be thawed from its firmness
By things which melt fools–I mean, sweet words, low bows, and An attitude of a dog.
Your brother is banished by law.
If you bow and beg for him,
I will kick you like a dog out of my way.
You must know that Caesar does not make mistakes, And he will not be satisfied
Without a good reason.
Isn’t there a voice any better than mine
That can speak more successfully to Caesar
For the return of my banished brother?
I kiss your hand, but not trying to flatter you, Caesar,
Asking that Publius Cimber can return to Rome.
Pardon me, Caesar!
Cassius falls to beg for Publius Cimber’s freedom.
I could be moved, if I were like you;
If I could beg others to be moved, then begging would move me;
But I am steady, like the north star.
Which has no equal in the sky
Of its pure nature.
The skies are painted with sparks;
They are all fire, and every one shines;
Buth there’s only one that stays in the same place.
It’s the same way in the world: it is well supplied with men.
And men are flesh and blood, and intelligent,
And out of all of them I know only one
That is unable to be attacked and holds his position,
Unmoved; and that I am that man,
Let me show you, even in this example,
That I was serious that I wanted Cimber banished.
And I am still serious to keep him that way.
Get away! Will you lift up Mt. Olympus?
Can’t you see that even Brutus’ kneeling doesn’t influence me?
My hands will speak for me!
Et tu, Brute?
–Then fall Caesar!
Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run from here, tell the news, shout it on the streets!
Some of you go to the speakers’ platforms and call out,
“Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!”
People and Senators, dont be afraid.
Don’t run away; stand still. Ambition’s debt has been paid.
Go to the pulpit, Brutus.
And Cassius, too.
He’s here, and very confused by this rebellion.
Stand close together, in case one of Caesar’s friends
Don’t talk about standing! Publius, be happy.
We dont want to harm you
Or any other Roman. Tell them that, Publius.
And leave us, Publius, or else the people,
Rushing on us, might harm you, old man.
Do that, and don’t let any man suffer for what happened
But us, the dudes who did it.
Where is Antony?
He ran to his house, astonished.
Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run,
As if it were the end of the world.
Fates, we will know what you plan for us.
We know that we will die; it is only when,
And increasing their allotted days, that men care about.
The person who removes twenty years of life
Removes that many years of fearing death.
If you accept that, then death is a benefit.
So we are Caesar’s friends, who have shortened
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,
And let’s cover our hands in Caesar’s blood
Up to the elbows and smear our swords.
Then we will walk forth, as far as the marketplace,
And waving our red weapons over our heads,
Let’s all shout, “Peace, freedom, and liberty!”
Stoop then and wash. How many years from now
Will this sick scene of ours be acted out
In countries not yet created and languages not yet spoken!
How many times will Caesar bleed in plays,
Who now lies on Pompey’s base
No more important than the dust.
As often as that,
The group of us will be called
The men that gave their country liberty.
What, should we go out?
Yes, we’ll all go.
Brutus will lead us, and we will honor him by following
With the boldest and the best hearts of Rome.
Quiet! Who’s here? A friend of Antony’s.
Like this, Brutus, my master told me to kneel;
Like this Mark Antony told me to fall down;
And lying face down, he told me to say this:
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving.
Say I love Brutus and I honor him;
Say I feared Caear, honored him, and loved him.
If Brutus will promise that Antony
May safely come to him and be given an explanation
Why Caesar deserved to die,
Mark Antony will not love Caesar, who is dead,
As well as Brutus, who is alive, but he will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
Through the hazards of this new, untried government
Faithfully. This is what my master Antony says.
Your master is a smart and valiant Roman.
I never thought of him as anything worse than that.
Tell him, if he chooses to come here,
He shall receive a satisfactory explanation and, by my honor,
Leave here without being touched.
I’ll get him immediately.
I know that we will convince him to be our friend.
I hope so. But still I am
Afraid of him; and my misgivings are usually accurate.
But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.
O mighty Caesar! Are you that dirty?
Are all your conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this small amount? Farewell.
I don’t know what your plans are gentlemen,
Who else must be killed, who else is diseased.
If I am one of them, there is no better time
Than the time of Caesar’s death; or any instrument
As good as your swords, which have been made rich
With the most noble blood in the whole world.
I beg you, if you have a grudge against me,
Now, while your blood-stained hands stink and smoke,
Do what you want. If I live a thousand years,
I will not find myself as ready to die;
No place will make me as happy, no way to die,
As next to Caesar, and killed by you,
The greatest men of this time.
O Antony, do not beg us to kill you!
Although right now we must seem bloody and cruel,
Because of our hands and this recent action
Which you can see we did, still you only see our hand
And this bleeding business that they have done.
You do not see our heart. They are pitiful;
And pity for the troubles of Rome
Has done this thing to Caesar. As far as you are concerned,
Our swords are harmless to you, Mark Antony.
Our arms, strong in hate, and our hearts,
Full of bortherly feelings, welcome you
With all kinds of love, good thoughts, and reverence.
You will have as much to say as anyone
In handing out honors from the new government.
Just be patient until we have calmed
The crowds, who are beside themselves with fear,
And then we will explain to you the reason
Why I, who was Caesar’s friend when I struck him,
Acted the way I did.
I do not doubt your wisdom.
Let each of you give me his bloody hand.
First, Marcus Brutus, I will shake hands with you;
Next, Caius Cassius, Iwill shake your hand;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours.
Although you are last, you are not the least in friendship, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all of you, what shall I say?
My reputation now stands on such slippery ground
That you must think of me in one of two bad ways,
Either a coward or a flatterer.
That I was your firend, Caesar, O, it’s true!
If your spirit looks in on us now,
Won’t it grieve you more terribly than your death
To see Antony making his piece,
Shaking the bloody hands of your enemies,
Most noble! in the presence of your corpse?
If I had as many eyes as you have wounds,
Weeping as fast as they bleed,
It would make more sense than to reach an agreement
In friendship with your enemies.
Forgive me, Julius! Here is the place where you were trapped, brave hart;
Here you fell; and here your hunters stand,
Marked with your blood, and red in your death.
O world, you were the forest for his hart;
And he was truly, O world, your heart!
Just like a deer, struck down by many princes,
Do you lie here!
Forgive me, Caius Cassius.
Even the enemies of Caesar will say these things,
So, from a friend, it is calm, reasonable speech.
I do not blame you for praising Caesar like that;
But what agreement do you intend to have with us?
Will you be counted as one of our friends,
Or should we go on, and not depend on you?
That is why I shook your hands; but I was truly
Distracted by looking down at Caesar.
I am friends with you all, and friendly to you all,
With this hope, that you will give me reasons
Why and how Caesar was dangerous.
Otherwise this would be a savage display.
Our reasons are so carefully considered
That if you were, Antony, the son of Caesar,
You would be satisfied.
That’s all I seek;
And I am also a suitor that I may
Display his body to the marketplace
And in the pulpit, as is appropriate for a friend,
Speak during the course of the funeral.
You can, Antony.
Brutus, I’d like a word with you.
You don’t know what you’re doing. Do not let
Antony speak in his funeral.
Do you know how much the people may be moved
By the things he will say?
I will myself go to the pulpit first
And show the reason for Caesar’s death.
What Antony says, I will explain
He says on our authority and by our permission,
And that we want Caear to
Have a proper funeral.
His speech will do us more good than bad.
I don’t know what will happen. I don’t like it.
Mark Antony, here, take Caesar’s body.
In your funeral speech you may not say bad things about us,
But say anything good that you can think of about Caesar,
And say you do it with our permission.
Otherwise you shall not participate
In his funeral. And you shall speak
In the same pulpit to which I am going,
After my speech is over.
So be it.
That’s all I want.
Prepare the body then, and follow us.
O, forgive me, you bleeding piece of earth,
For cooperating with these butchers!
You are the ruins of the noblest man
Who ever lived in all of history.
Woe to the hand that shed this expensive blood!
Over your wounds now I predict the future.
A curse will fall on the arms and legs of men;
A terrible civil war
Will spread around all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction will be so common
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers will only smile when they see
Their children torn into pieces during the fighting,
All pity disappearing because cruelty is so common;
And Caesar’s ghost, walking around in search of revenge,
With Ate at his side still hot from hell,
Will in these boundaries with a ruler’s voice
Cry “Havoic!” and let loose the dogs of war,
So that this terrible action will smell above the earth
With rotting corpses, begging to be buried.
You serve Octavius Caesar, don’t you?
I do, Mark Antony.
Caesar did write and ask him to come to Rome.
He received his letters and is on his way,
And asked me to say to you–
Your heart is swollen up with grief.
Go off by yourself and cry.
Strong feeling, I see, is catching, for my eyes,
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in yours,
Began to water. Is your master coming?
He has set up camp about twenty-one miles outside Rome.
Hurry back and tell him what has happened.
Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
Not a safe Rome for Octavius yet.
Leave here and tell him that. But wait awhile.
Don’t go back until I have taken this corpse
Into the marketplace. There I will find out
In my speech how the people react
To the cruel action of these bloody men,
Depending on which you shall tell
Young Octavius how things stand.
Give me a hand.
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