Modernized Julius Caesar: ACT I Scenes 1 and 2

Below is Act I, Scenes 1 and 2 of a new modernized version of Julius Caesar. This script serves two purposes. First, it allows first-time readers to experience the real Shakespeare without rewrites. Second, it updates words and phrases that have shifted in meaning over the past 400 years for a contemporary audience.

The result is a fresh take on a Shakespeare script, preserving the power and resonance of his language while making it accessible to today’s readers.

You can buy the whole play in e-book format:

Buy

---

Scene I

Rome. A street.

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and a group of Commoners moving across the stage.

FLAVIUS

Off with you now—go home, you lazy louts!

Is this a feast day? Do you not perceive

That as craftsmen, you should never roam

About on a workday with no sign of your trade?

Now speak—declare at once what craft you ply.

CARPENTER

Good sir, I serve as a carpenter by trade.

MARULLUS

Where’s your tool belt and ruler at your side?

Why are you dressed up in your Sunday-best?

And you, good sir—what craft do you pursue?

COBBLER

Sir, in craft, I’m nothing more than a cobbler.

MARULLUS

But what’s your craft? Speak plainly and at once.

COBBLER

I practice a trade with a clear conscience:

I fix the soles of all your worn-out shoes.

FLAVIUS

What craft are you, you brazen knave? Speak out!

You shameless rogue—what craft do you dare claim?

COBBLER

Good sir, don’t let your anger flare on me.

But if you’re upset, I’ll make amends.

MARULLUS

Pray tell—what do you mean by this, you rogue?

And what’s this talk of mending me, bold knave?

COBBLER

My trade, good sir, is cobbling your worn shoes.

FLAVIUS

So you’re a cobbler, then—so that’s your craft?

COBBLER

In truth, good sir, I earn my keep with an awl.

I meddle not in crafts that are not mine.

I serve as a surgeon to old shoes in need.

When shoes are worn and torn, I mend them whole.

The finest men have trod upon my skill.

FLAVIUS

But why are you not in your shop today?

Why lead these idle men about the streets?

COBBLER

Sir, we wear out their shoes so we get work.

But, sir, today’s holiday is for Caesar.

We rest and thus rejoice in his triumph.

MARULLUS

Why should you celebrate? What triumph is this?

What vanquished tribes now follow in his wake?

You blocks and stones, you foolish lumps of dirt!

O callous hearts, you cruel men of Rome,

Have you then forgotten Pompey’s fame?

How often have you climbed walls, battlements,

You’ve perched on towers, windows, chimney tops,

With infants in your arms you sat all day,

All for the chance to hail Pompey’s march,

To see Pompey advance through Rome’s grand streets?

And when his chariot first met your sight,

Did you not raise a universal shout,

That Tiber trembled under all her banks

To hear the echo of your cheers rebound?

And now you don your finest garb for him?

And now you call a holiday for him?

And now you line his path with fresh flowers?

Begone! Run home and kneel upon your knees,

And pray the gods to stay the plague that falls

Which must descend on such ungrateful hearts.

FLAVIUS

Go, countrymen, this fault you must atone:

Gather laborers of your humblest ranks;

Draw them to Tiber’s banks and shed your tears

Into the river till her smallest stream

Kisses each exalted shore around.

Commoners exit

See whether their base courage stirs at all;

They slink away, their tongues bound by their shame.

You, head toward the Capitol that way,

And I’ll go first to strip each statue bare.

MARULLUS

May we proceed? Today is Lupercal.

FLAVIUS

No matter then—let no image hold his spoil.

I’ll clear each street of idle citizens,

And you do the same wherever they appear.

Pluck these proud feathers from his rising wing,

And keep him tethered to a common height,

Who else would soar beyond all mortal view

And leave us cowering in servile dread.

They exit in opposite directions

Scene II

Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.

CAESAR

Calphurnia.

CASCA

Hush, hush! Caesar speaks.

CAESAR

Calphurnia.

CALPHURNIA

Here, my lord.

CAESAR

Stand squarely in Antony’s path today

When he completes his course—Antony!

ANTONY

Caesar, my lord.

CAESAR

When you run swift, forget not to touch her,

For elders say that barren women touched

In this sacred chase will shake their curse away.

ANTONY

I shall remember. When Caesar bids, the deed is swiftly done.

CAESAR

Begin—and spare no single rite today.

Sennet

SOOTHSAYER

Caesar.

CAESAR

Ha! Who calls?

CASCA

Hush, hush—Caesar speaks!

CAESAR

Who in this press calls out to Caesar now?

I hear a voice more piercing than all flutes

Cry “Caesar.” Speak—my ear is turned that way.

SOOTHSAYER

Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR

What man is that?

BRUTUS

The soothsayer bids you beware the ides.

CAESAR

Bring him before me—let me see his face.

CASSIUS

Fellow, come forward from the crowded throng.

Soothsayer advances

CAESAR

What say you now? Speak once again your warning.

SOOTHSAYER

Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR

He’s but a dreamer—let us leave him be.

Sennet. Exeunt all but Brutus and Cassius

CASSIUS

Will you see how they’ve arranged the course today?

BRUTUS

Not I.

CASSIUS

I beg you, please be there and mark the race.

BRUTUS

I lack the spark that drives our Antony;

Do not let me impede your purpose, friend;

I’ll step aside—pursue your own desires.

CASSIUS

Brutus, I’ve observed change in you of late—

The warmth and care I once knew from your eyes

Has vanished, leaving harsh and distant airs

From one who loves you still with a loyal heart.

BRUTUS

Cassius, do not be deceived by this:

If I have veiled the trouble in my face,

I turn my fretted mind upon myself.

Of late my soul has wrestled with strange thoughts,

Thoughts belonging only to my own soul,

And these may stain the ways I show to friends.

But let not loyal hearts among you grieve;

(Among them you, good Cassius, stand as one.)

CASSIUS

Then, Brutus, I have badly misread you,

And so my heart has buried high designs—

Thoughts of great worth and worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus: can you see yourself?

BRUTUS

No, Cassius—an eye cannot see itself

But only in the reflection of a glass.

CASSIUS

’Tis just. It’s much lamented, Brutus; you have none

Of those clear mirrors that might show your worth,

So you could view the shadow of your strengths.

I’ve heard that many of Rome’s finest men,

All but immortal Caesar, when they speak

Your noble name and groan beneath this age,

Have wished that noble Brutus had their eyes.

BRUTUS

What dangers lie in that you bid me seek—

To search within myself for what’s not there?

CASSIUS

Therefore, good Brutus, steel yourself to hear:

Since you yourself cannot perceive your worth

As clearly as through some reflecting glass,

I, who am that glass, will humbly unveil

To you all that you have yet failed to see.

And doubt not my intent, you gentle soul:

Were I the one to laugh at every jest,

And bind each passing friend with empty oaths,

If you have known me fawning on these men,

And after feasting turn to scorn the same,

Or if you know I flaunt at crowded feasts,

And join the rabble gathered at the board,

Then mark me as a danger to you all.

Flourish And Shout

BRUTUS

What means this shouting? I fear the crowds elect

Caesar to stand as king over all of Rome.

CASSIUS

Oh, do you fear it? Then I must believe

You would not wish this outcome to be real.

BRUTUS

I would not have it so, yet love him well.

But why do you keep me here so long?

What news is this that you would share with me?

If it be for the common good, then hear:

Place honor in one eye and death in the other,

And I will view them both with equal heart;

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honor more than I fear death.

CASSIUS

I know that virtue lives within your heart

As clearly as I see your noble face.

Well, honor is the purpose of my discourse.

I cannot know what other men may think

Of this life’s worth, but for my part alone

I’d rather not exist than live in awe

Of one as frail as I or call him god.

We both were born as free as Caesar was;

We both have eaten well and braved the cold

As boldly as he ever did survive.

Once on a harsh and blustery winter’s morn,

When Tiber pounded hard upon her banks,

Caesar turned to me: “Darest thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me and swim to that far shore?”

At that command, though clad in formal robes,

I plunged right in and called on him to follow;

And fiercely we did wrestle with the flood,

Heaving against the torrent with our might.

But just before we reached that distant point,

Caesar cried out, “Some water, Cassius—I sink!”

Like Aeneas bearing old Anchises’ weight,

I lifted weary Caesar from the tide.

And now this man they worship as a god,

While I—a wretch—must bow if Caesar nods

In careless passing, as if I were dust.

He once fell sick in Spain, and in that fever

I saw him quake—this so-called god did shake.

His coward lips lost all their natural hue,

And that same eye whose glance commands the world

Went dim in light; I heard him groan aloud.

I heard him cry, “Some water, Titinius—now!”

Like some frail girl who pleads in whispered tone.

O gods, it strikes me strange—one of such frail

And feeble form should win the race of men,

So join the ranks of the mightiest rulers here,

And bear the victor’s wreath alone by right.

Shout Flourish.

BRUTUS

Another thundering shout from yonder crowd!

I do believe they mean fresh honors heaped

Upon our Caesar, as if he were king.

CASSIUS

Why, man, he does 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 fate;

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—they do become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them:

“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”

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

What food sustains this Caesar’s mighty rise?

Age, shame upon you; you are outdone!

Rome, you have lost the breed of noble bloods!

When since the great flood has any age

Been famed for more than one such man as this?

When could they say, in all her wide expanse,

This city held but one sole ruler’s sway?

Now Rome is room enough for one alone.

O you and I have heard our fathers say

There was a Brutus once who would have brooked

The eternal devil to keep state in Rome

As easily as a king.

BRUTUS

That you should love me, I feel no distrust.

Your purpose for me, I’ve partly understood.

How I have weighed these matters and this time

I shall recount to you at length hereafter.

But now—so help me friendship—be no more

Moved by my words. What you have said I’ll mull;

What you still would share I’ll patiently hear,

And find the proper hour to meet and speak

Of all these weighty matters you present.

Till then, my noble friend, reflect on this:

Brutus would rather live as a villager

Than call himself a son of Rome, oppressed

By conditions such as this moment lays.

CASSIUS

I am glad that my poor words have kindled

A spark of fire within you, Brutus.

Enter Caesar and his train.

BRUTUS

The games are done, and Caesar returns.

CASSIUS

As they pass by, draw Casca by the sleeve,

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

What has proceeded worthy note today.

BRUTUS

I will attend. But mark, good Cassius, see

That angry mark does glow upon his brow;

And all the rest move like a chastened line.

Calphurnia’s cheeks have turned a ghostly white,

And Cicero glares with ferret-like, fierce eyes,

As when some senator contradicts his word.

CASSIUS

Casca will tell us what the matter is.

Enter Caesar and his train

CAESAR

Antony!

ANTONY

Caesar.

CAESAR

Let me have men about me who are well-fed,

Sleek of head and sleeping through each quiet night.

That Cassius bears a lean and hungry look;

He thinks too much, and such men are dangerous.

ANTONY

Fear him not, Caesar; he is not dangerous.

He’s a noble Roman, generous and true.

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

Right through the deeds of men.

He loves no plays, as you do, Antony;

He hears no music; seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort

As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit

That could be moved to smile at anything.

Such men as he are never at heart’s ease

While they behold a greater than themselves,

And therefore are they very dangerous.

I rather tell you what is to be feared

Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.

Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,

And tell me truly what you think of him.

Sennet. Caesar and his train exit; Casca remains

CASCA

You pulled me by the cloak.

Would you speak with me?

BRUTUS

Ay, Casca.

Tell us what has happened today

That Caesar looks so sad.

CASCA

Why, you were with him, were you not?

BRUTUS

Then would I not ask,

Casca—what occurred?

CASCA

They offered him a crown; he brushed it off

With the back of his hand—just so—and then the crowd

Broke out at once in one tremendous shout.

BRUTUS

What was the second shout for?

CASCA

For that too.

CASSIUS

They shouted thrice—

What was the last shout for?

CASCA

For that too.

BRUTUS

Was the crown offered him three times?

CASCA

Yes, truly—it was, and he pushed it off thrice,

Each time more gently than the one before,

And at each casting off, my neighbors cheered.

CASSIUS

Who offered him the crown?

CASCA

Antony did.

BRUTUS

Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

CASCA

I might as well be hanged as try to tell it all.

It was pure foolishness—I hardly noted it:

I saw Mark Antony lift up a small coronet,

And, as I said, he offered it once—but

Caesar brushed it aside, though I thought he’d rather keep it.

Then Antony held it out again; again

Caesar pushed it off, though loath to let it go.

A third time it was offered—and again

He shook it free—and still the rabble cried:

They hooted, clapped their ragged hands,

Hurled up their sweat-soaked caps, and breathed

Such foul air it almost choked our Caesar—

He swooned and fell. I dared not laugh, for fear

A single breath might draw in that stench.

CASSIUS

But soft—pray tell me, did our Caesar swoon?

CASCA

He fell right in the marketplace, foamed at mouth,

And lay there silent, speechless in the dust.

BRUTUS

It’s very like—he has the falling sickness.

CASSIUS

No, Caesar has it not; but you and I,

And honest Casca, share the falling sickness.

CASCA

I don’t know what you mean by that, but Caesar fell.

If that ragged crowd did not clap and hiss him—

Praising or abusing as they do the players in theatre—

Then I am no true man.

BRUTUS

What said he when he came to himself?

CASCA

Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived

The common herd was glad he refused the crown,

He plucked open his doublet and offered them his

Throat to cut. Had I been any other man,

If I had not seized him at that single word,

I’d go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell.

When he came to himself again, he said,

If he had done or said anything amiss,

He begged their Worships to think it infirmity.

Three or four wenches where I stood cried, “Alas, good soul!”

And forgave him with all their hearts. But heed them not—

If Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.

BRUTUS

And, after that, did he go off so sad?

CASCA

Ay.

CASSIUS

Did Cicero say anything?

CASCA

Ay—he spoke Greek.

CASSIUS

To what effect?

CASCA

Nay—if I tell you that, I’ll never look you in the face again.

But those who understood him only smiled and shook their heads;

For my part, it was all Greek to me.

I could share more news: Marullus and Flavius,

For pulling scarves from Caesar’s images,

Have been silenced. Fare you well—there was more foolery yet,

If I could remember it.

CASSIUS

Will you join me for supper tonight, Casca?

CASCA

No—I’m promised elsewhere.

CASSIUS

Will you dine with me tomorrow?

CASCA

Ay—if I’m alive, if you still wish it,

And if your dinner is worth the eating.

CASSIUS

Good—I’ll expect you.

CASCA

Do so. Farewell to you both.

Casca exits

BRUTUS

What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!

He was quick mettle when he went to school.

CASSIUS

So is he now in execution

Of any bold or noble enterprise,

However he puts on this tardy form.

This roughness is a sauce to his good wit,

Which gives men the stomach to digest his words

With better appetite.

BRUTUS

And so it is; for now I will leave you.

Tomorrow, if you wish to speak with me,

I will come to you; or, if you prefer,

Come to my house, and I will wait for you.

CASSIUS

I’ll do so. Till then, think of the world.

Brutus exits

Well, Brutus, you are noble. Yet I see

Your honorable mettle may be wrought

From that it is disposed. Therefore it is meet

That noble minds keep ever with their likes;

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

Caesar does bear me hard, but he loves Brutus.

If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,

He would not humor me. I will this night

In several hands at his windows throw,

As if they came from several citizens,

Writings all tending to the great opinion

That Rome holds of his name, wherein obscurely

Caesar’s ambition shall be glanced at.

And after this, let Caesar seat himself sure,

For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

He Exits