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Next Chapter Podcast presents the Play On Podcast series, Julius Caesar.Episode 2, But for the Greater Good.For the best listening experience, be sure to use your headphones or earbuds.Lend me your ears.
Evening, Casca.Did you bring Caesar home?Why are you breathless and why do you stare so?
Are you not scared when all the might of Earth shakes like a thing unformed? O Cicero, I have seen tempests when the scolding winds have hacked the knotty oaks, but never, till tonight, did I race through a tempest-dropping fire.
Either there is a civil strife in heaven, or else the world, too brazen with God, enrages him to send destruction.
What saw you that was most terrifying?
A farmer, you see him every day, held up his left hand, which did flame and burn like twenty torches joined.Yet this hand, which toiled the land, not cognizant of fire, stayed unscorched.
I was frightened, but hadn't yet drawn my weapon, when a lion appeared with my face.It glowered at me and charged, but went by without attacking.And there were hundreds of women who swore they saw men on fire marching down the street.
If that wasn't enough to make you hoot, I heard an owl shriek at high noon. When these harbingers do so align and meet, let men not say, these are the reasons things are unnatural.
For I believe they are prophetic signs toward the climate that is soon to come.
Indeed, it is a strange and puzzling time.But brother, men often construe things to their selfish needs, far from the purpose of the things themselves. Comes our king to the temple tomorrow?
He does.For he proposed Antonio send word to you he would be there.
Good night, then, Casca.This disturbed sky is not one to walk under.
Farewell, Cicero.Who's there?A gentleman.
Ah, Casca, by your voice.
Your ear is good, Cassius.
What a night, huh?A very pleasing night to an honest man.Whoever knew the heavens could stir so?Those that have known this world to be so full of false.
For my part, I've walked the streets submitting myself to this perilous night, and thus uncloaked as you can see, Casca, have bared my bald head to God's thunderbolt.
But why would you attempt to tempt God?It's natural for men to shiver and shake when God sends such signals, such dreadful omens to astonish us.
You're dull, Casca.And those sparks of life that should be in a true gentleman, you sorely lack, or else you waste them. You look pale for a brother, and stare and shake with fear and gawk about in wonder to see the grave impatience of the heavens.
But if you would consider the real cause while
all the fires, why all the gliding ghosts, why birds and beasts stray from their beaten path, why all these things change from their normalcy, their nature and their primal faculties to monstrous quality, why you will find that heaven has infused them with spirits to make them instruments of fear and warning about some monstrous state.
Now could I, Casca, name to you a man most like this dreadful night that thunders, enlightens, opens graves, and roars, and does as the lion in the bush, a man no mightier than yourself or me in personal action, yet prodigious, grown, and frightening as these strange eruptions are.
To Caesar, that you mean.Is it not, Cassius?
Let it be who it is.For real men know.Though some profess to have the prowess of their fathers when they in fact just wanna be waited on like their mothers.
Ah, you speak of the senator's plan to anoint him king.The man doesn't need to wear a crown.You've heard the proverb. A prophet is treated with honor everywhere except at home.
I know just what suit to wear to hide a dagger.Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius.But life, being weary of these worldly bars, never lacks the power to discharge itself.If I know this,
I'll have the whole world know that part of tyranny that I keep clenched between my teeth, I can release at my pleasure.
So can I. So every minion in his own hand bears the power to discharge his captivity.
And why should a king be a tyrant then? I know he wouldn't be a wolf, but that he sees that men are but sheep.He wouldn't think himself a lion if his men weren't a bunch of asses.Those in a rush to make a mighty fire, begin it with weak twigs.
How rash is this place, what rubbish and refuse, when it serves as kiln to illuminate so vile a thing as a king.But, oh grief, where have you led me?
I perhaps speak this to a man who prefers not to be free, and I may be in danger of having to answer for it.If so, Know that I am armed and not afraid of a little blood.
Whoa, brother.You're speaking to Casca.And to such a man who wears one face, not two.Take my hand.Be factious for Redress to right these wrongs.And I will place this foot of mine as far as any man does.
That's a bargain made. Now you know, Casca, I've swayed already certain noble-minded men to undergo with me an enterprise of honorable yet dangerous consequence.And I do know by this they wait for me tonight at the temple steps.
As for this weather, there's no fear of walking in the streets and the appearance of the elements are not unlike the work we have in hand.Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.
Hang on.Here comes one in haste.It's Senna.Senna, why haste you so?
In search of you.Who's that?Metellus Simba?
No, it's Casca.One in union to our attempts.Am I not stayed for, Senna?
Take hand, Kerska.What a fearful night is this.There's two of three of us who've seen a strange sight.
Am I not waited for?Tell me.
Yes, you are.O Cassius, if you could withdraw the noble Brutus to our party, he... Calm down.
Good sinner.Take this paper and throw this in at his window.All this done, go back to the temple steps where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?
All but Metellus Cimber, and she's gone to seek you at your house.Well, I'll hurry and so bestow these papers as you urged me.That done, return to the temple.
Come, Casca.You and I will yet ere day meet Brutus at his house.Three parts of him is ours already. and the man entire upon the next encounter shall be ours.
Oh, he sits high in all the people's hearts, and though that which appears offends us, his noble face, like richest alchemy, will change to virtue and to worthiness.
Him and his worth and our great need of him, you have rightly deduced.Now, let us go.For it is after midnight and air day we will awake him and make sure he's ours.Let's do it.
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Where is Lucius?I cannot, by the progress of the stars, reckon how near to day... Lucius, I say.I wish I had the malady of sound sleep.Lucius, awake, I say.Come, Lucius.
Place me a candle in my study.When it is lighted, come and fetch me here.
It must be by his death.And for my part... I have no personal cause to strike at him, but for the greater good he would be crowned.How might that change his nature, that's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the Adder, and that demands careful walking.Crown him that, and then I fear we'll bless him with a sting that at his will he may do damage with. The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
And truth be told of him, I am not known when his affections weigh more than his reason, but it's a common tale that modesty is young ambition's ladder to where the upward climber bows his head, but when he once attains the utmost rung, he then, unto the ladder, turns his back, looks to the clouds scorning the lower rungs by which he did ascend, so Caesar may
Then lest he may prevent, and since the quarrel is with his future self, not what he is, fashion it thus, that what he is magnified would run to these and those extremities, and therefore think him as a serpent's egg.
Once hatched, would as his kind grow troublesome.So, kill him in the shell.
The candle burns within your study, sir.Searching the window for a flint, I found this paper, thus sealed up.And I am sure it did not lie there when I went to bed.
Get you to bed again.It is not day.Is not tomorrow, boy, the Ides of March?
Look in the calendar and bring me word.
Meteors whizzing in the air give so much light that I may read by them.Brutus, you sleep.Awake and see yourself. Shall Rome, et cetera, speak, strike, redress?Rutus, you sleep.Awake.Such intimations have been often dropped where I have took them up.
Shall Rome, et cetera, thus must I piece it out?Shall Rome stand under one man's awe?What?Rome? My ancestors from the fields did demand their freedom when the world was at war.Speak, strike, redress.Am I solicited then to speak and strike?
Rome, I promise you, if the amends will follow, you'll receive your full entreaty at the hand of Brutus.
Sir, March is wasted fifteen days.
That's good.Go to the gate.Somebody knocks.Since Cassius first did wet my appetite against Caesar, I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, all the interim is like a phantasm or a hideous dream.
The unconscious mind and, too, the sacred flesh unite to take up arms against consciousness, like to a little kingdom suffering the nature of a bloody civil war.
Sir, it's your brother Cassius at the door who does desire to see you.
No, sir.There are more with him.
No, sir.Their hats are covering their eyes and half their faces buried in their cloaks.
Let them enter. Here comes the faction.Ah, conspiracy.Shamed are you to show your murderous brow this night when evils are most free?Then by day, where will you find a cavern dark enough to mask your monstrous visage?
I think we are intruding on your rest.Good morrow, Brutus.Do we trouble you?
I have been up this hour, awake all night.Know I have these men that come along with you?
Yes, every one of them.And no one here but honors you.And everyone wishes you had but that opinion of yourself which every noble man carries of you. This is Trebonius.He is welcome hither.This Decius Brutus.
She is welcome too.This Casca.Yo.This Senna.
Give me your hands all over, one by one.And let us swear our resolution. No, not an oath, if not the grimace of men, the sufferance of our souls, the error's abuse.If these are weak motives, break off at once and every man back to his idle bed.
So let high-sighted tyranny range on till each man drop by lottery.
But if we, as I am sure we do, bear fire enough to kindle cowards and to steal with valor the melting spirits of women, then countrymen, what need we any spur but our own cause to prick us to reprisal?
What other bond than secret men that have spoke the word and will not falter?And what other oath than honesty to honesty engaged that this shall be?
Cowards and priests swear, as do cautious men, old feeble flesh, and such suffering souls that greet abuse, and only men you wouldn't trust would swear to welcome wrongs.
But do not stain the level virtue of our enterprise, nor the irrepressible strength of our spirits, to think that our cause or our accomplishment did need an oath.
What every drop of blood that every man bears and nobly bears, is guilty of several bastardy if he do break the smallest particle of any promise that have passed his lips.But what of Cicero?
What will he think? I think he will stand very strong with us.
Let us not leave him out.
by no means.Oh, let us have him, for his silver hairs will purchase us a good opinion.It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands.Our youth and wildness shall be well concealed, but all be buried in his gravity.
Not Cicero.Let us not split with him, for he will never follow anything that other men begin.
Fine.Then leave him out.Indeed.He is not fit.
Shall no man else be touched but only Caesar?
Decious well-urged.I think it is not wise Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, should outlive him.We shall find of him a shrewd opponent. And you know his means, if he improves them, may well stretch so far as to imperil us all, which to prevent.
Let Antony and him fall together.
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, to cut the head off and then hack the limbs.Like wrath in death and envy afterwards, for Antony is but a limb of him.Let's be sacrificers, not butchers, Caius.We all stand up against his spirit.
And in men's spirits, you will find no blood. Oh, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit and not dismember him.But alas, he must bleed for it. And gentle friends, let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully.
Let's carve him as a sacrificial lamb, not hew him as a carcass fit for dogs.And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, stir up their servants to an act of rage, and afterwards seem to chide him.
This will make our purpose necessary and not envious, which so appearing to the common eye, we shall be called purgers, not murderers.And for Mark Antony, think not of him, for he can do no more than a king's arm when Caesar's head is taken off.
Yet I fear him for the conjointed love he bears.Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him.If he loves Caesar, all that he can do is hurt himself and grieve and die for him.
But that's more than his measure, for he's given to sports, to wildness, and much company.There's no fearing him.Let him not die, for he will live and laugh at this hereafter.Peace.
Count the clock. The clock hath stricken thrice.Tis time to part.But it is doubtful yet if Caesar will come forth today or no.For he of late is superstitious, grown right from the main opinion he once held of fantasy of dreams and conjuring.
It may be these apparent talismans, the unaccustomed terror of this night, and the persuasion of his soothsayers may hold him from the temple today.
Never fear that.If he be so resolved, I can... Coerce him, for he loves to hear that unicorns may be captured with trees, and bears with mirrors, elephants in holes, lions with nets, and men with flatterers.
But when I tell him he hates flatterers, he says he does, being then most flattered.Let me work, for I can give his humor the right twist, and I will bring him to the temple myself.
No, we will all of us go there to fetch him.By the eighth hour, is that the latest time?
Be that the latest time, and fail not then.
Caius Ligarius, for Caesar has no love, who chides him for speaking well, I wonder why none of you have thought of him.
Oh, good Metellus, go along by him.He loves me well, and I have given him reasons.Send him but this way, and I'll conscript him.
Morning has broken.We'll leave you now, Brutus.And friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember what you have said, and show yourselves true brothers.
Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily.Let not our looks betray our purposes, but bear it as our Roman actors do, with rested spirit and steadfast resolve.And so good morrow to you, everyone.
The play on podcast series Julius Caesar was written by William Shakespeare and translated into modern English verse by Shishir Karum.All episodes were directed by Harry Lennox.Radio play by Marcus Gardley. The cast is as follows.
Michael Pox as Julius Caesar, Glenn Davis as Mark Antony, Jeremy Tardy as Marcus Brutus, Lester Perry as Caius Cassius and Legarius, Megan Boone as Portia, Metellus Simba, and others. Janelle Kennedy as Calpurnia, Lucius, and others.
Christopher May as Casca, Titinius, Volumnius, and others.James T. Alfred as Cicero, Morellus, Publius, Artemidorus, Lucius, Lepidus, and others.Namuna Sisek as Octavius.Miracle Lori as Massalus, Decius Brutus, and others.
Charlique Rowe as Senna, Soothsayer, Senna the Poet, Pandarus, Dardanius, and others.Brandon Jones as Flavius, Trebonius, and others.Casting by the Telsey office, Karen Castle, CSA. Voice and Text Coach, Julie Fogue.
Original Music Composition, Mix and Sound Design by Lindsey Jones.Sound Engineering and Mixing by Sadaharu Yagi.Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor, Larry Walsh.Podcast Mastering by Greg Cortez at New Monkey Studio.
Coordinating Producer, Transcend Streaming, Kira Bowie and Liana Keyes.Executive Producer, Michael Goodfriend.
The Play On Podcast series Julius Caesar is produced by Next Chapter Podcasts and is made possible by the generous support of the Hitz Foundation. Visit nextchapterpodcasts.com for more about the Play On podcast series.
Visit playonshakespeare.org for more about Play On Shakespeare.Subscribe to Play On Premium on Apollo Plus for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial free releases.
Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our bonus content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers, and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember, beware the Ides of March.
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