Modern English

*Thunder and lightning. A street in Rome. Casca and Cicero enter from different directions.* CICERO. Good evening, Casca. Did you walk Caesar home? Why are you so out of breath? Why do you look like that? CASCA. Doesn't it move you when the entire earth shakes like something unsteady? Cicero, I've lived through storms where howling winds split massive oaks apart, and I've watched the ocean swell and rage and foam, trying to rise as high as the threatening clouds. But never until tonight, never until now, have I walked through a storm that rained fire. Either there's a civil war going on in heaven, or the world has grown too bold with the gods, and they're punishing us with destruction.

Modern English

CICERO. Did you see anything else extraordinary? CASCA. An ordinary slave — you'd recognize him — held up his left hand, and it blazed and burned like twenty torches combined, yet his hand felt no pain from the fire and wasn't even singed. And — I haven't sheathed my sword since — near the Capitol I ran into a lion that stared at me and walked right past without attacking. And I saw a crowd of a hundred terrified women, huddled together, pale with fear, swearing they had seen men made entirely of fire walking through the streets. And yesterday, an owl — the bird of night — sat in the marketplace at noon, hooting and shrieking. When unnatural events pile up like this, people shouldn't say, "Oh, there are rational explanations; it's all natural." I believe these are omens warning about the place they're pointing toward.

Modern English

CICERO. It's certainly a strange and disturbing time. But people tend to interpret things however they want, completely apart from what the things actually mean. Is Caesar going to the Capitol tomorrow? CASCA. He is. He sent word through Antony asking you to be there tomorrow. CICERO. Well then, good night, Casca. This unsettled sky isn't fit for walking around in. CASCA. Farewell, Cicero. *Cicero exits. Cassius enters.*

Modern English

CASSIUS. Who's there? CASCA. A Roman. CASSIUS. Casca — I know you by your voice. CASCA. You've got good ears. Cassius, what a night this is! CASSIUS. A very pleasant night — for honest men. CASCA. Who has ever seen the sky this threatening? CASSIUS. People who have seen the earth full of just as many faults. As for me, I've been walking through the streets, exposing myself to this dangerous night, and, with my shirt open as you see, Casca, I've bared my chest to the thunderbolts. When the jagged blue lightning seemed to split open the sky itself, I stood right in its path — directly in the aim and flash of it.

Modern English

CASCA. But why would you tempt the heavens like that? It's only human to tremble with fear when the almighty gods send such terrifying signs to shock us. CASSIUS. You're being dense, Casca, and those sparks of spirit that should burn in a Roman are either missing in you, or going unused. You look pale, you stare, you tremble with fear, and you stand there in wonder at the strange fury of the skies. But if you'd think about the real reason for all these fires, all these wandering ghosts, all these animals acting against their nature, all these old men, fools, and children making prophecies — if you'd think about why everything has abandoned its natural order and its normal function, twisting into something monstrous — you'd discover that heaven has filled them with these spirits to serve as instruments of fear and warning about some monstrous condition in the state. I could name for you, Casca, a man very much like this terrifying night — a man who thunders, flashes, cracks open graves, and roars like the lion near the Capitol. A man no mightier than you or me in what he can physically do, yet who has grown enormous and frightening, just like these strange eruptions.

Modern English

CASCA. You're talking about Caesar, aren't you, Cassius? CASSIUS. Let it be whoever it is. The Romans of today have the same strong bodies as their ancestors, but — and here's the tragedy — our fathers' courage is dead, and we're ruled by our mothers' timidity. Our submission and our suffering make us look weak. CASCA. In fact, word is that the senators plan tomorrow to make Caesar king, and he'll wear his crown on land and sea, everywhere except here in Italy. CASSIUS. Then I know where I'll wear this dagger: Cassius will free Cassius from slavery. In that, you gods, you make the weak most strong. In that, you gods, you defeat all tyrants. No stone tower, no walls of solid brass, no airless dungeon, no heavy iron chains can hold the strength of the human spirit. When life grows weary of this world's prison walls, it never lacks the power to set itself free. If I know this — and let the whole world know it too — whatever portion of tyranny I'm forced to bear, I can shake off whenever I choose.

Modern English

*Thunder continues.* CASCA. So can I. Every man in chains holds in his own hand the power to break free. CASSIUS. Then why should Caesar get to be a tyrant? The poor man — I know he wouldn't play the wolf if he didn't see that the Romans were nothing but sheep. He'd be no lion if the Romans weren't just deer. People who want to build a great fire quickly start it with flimsy straw. What kind of trash is Rome? What kind of garbage and waste, when it lets itself serve as kindling to light up something as worthless as Caesar? But, oh grief, where have you led me? I may be saying all this to a man who'd willingly be a slave — in that case, I know I'll have to face the consequences. But I'm armed, and danger means nothing to me.

Modern English

CASCA. You're talking to Casca, a man who doesn't snitch or flatter. Here — take my hand. Form a faction to fix all these wrongs, and I will march as far as the bravest man among you. CASSIUS. Then we have a deal. Now listen — I've already recruited some of the noblest-minded men in Rome to join me in an enterprise that is both honorable and dangerous. And I know that right now they're waiting for me in Pompey's covered walkway. On a fearful night like this, nobody is out walking the streets, and the mood of the sky matches the work we have ahead of us — bloody, fiery, and terrible. *Cinna enters.*

Modern English

CASCA. Wait — hide for a moment. Someone's coming in a hurry. CASSIUS. It's Cinna — I can tell by the way he walks. He's on our side. Cinna, where are you rushing to? CINNA. Looking for you. Who's that — Metellus Cimber? CASSIUS. No, it's Casca. He's already part of our plan. Are they waiting for me, Cinna? CINNA. Glad to hear about Casca. What a terrifying night! Two or three of us have seen bizarre things. CASSIUS. Are they waiting for me? Tell me. CINNA. Yes, they are. Oh, Cassius, if you could only bring noble Brutus over to our side — CASSIUS. Don't worry about that. Here, good Cinna, take this letter and make sure to leave it in the magistrate's chair where Brutus will find it. And throw this one in through his window. Stick this one with wax on the statue of old Brutus, his ancestor. Once that's done, come meet us at Pompey's walkway. Are Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? CINNA. Everyone except Metellus Cimber — he went to look for you at your house. I'll hurry and place these letters where you told me to. CASSIUS. When you're done, meet us at Pompey's Theatre. *Cinna exits.*

Modern English

Come on, Casca — before daybreak, you and I will visit Brutus at his house. Three-quarters of him is already ours, and after one more conversation we'll have the whole man. CASCA. He's held in the highest regard by all the people, and what would look like a crime if we did it alone, his reputation — like the purest alchemy — will transform into virtue and noble purpose. CASSIUS. You've sized up his value and our need for him exactly right. Let's go — it's past midnight, and before dawn we'll wake him and make certain he's with us. *They exit.*