This is the rest of the shakespear thingy for all the die-hard shakespear fans. haha!
Great is the hunger in my heart for that that is honourable. But the measure of the love for my dear brother is as great. Brutus hath received mandates from helpless citizens who cry “Speak! Strike! Redress!”. Each word adding on to the weight of the heavy responsibility weighed on noble Brutus’ heart.
Shall Rome stand under one man’s awe? I feel caught in the center of a perplexing web of love, honour and integrity. A fierce battle in which dire consequence will be produced, in which only honour will prevail. For did my ancestors from the streets of Rome the Tarquin drive, so shall Marcus Brutus act on the mandate of the people. As the stoics did practice self-containment, so will I, Marcus Brutus, enforce self-sacrifice.
Cassius has passed his worth, and surprised me much when he came with several other gaits besides his. The adventurous Casca, the articulate Decius, the swift Cinna, the nimble Metellus Cimber and the mighty Trebonius. All men of good valour. May their contributions speed our worthy enterprise.
Caesar’s death is a painful necessity. But it shall be honourable. His death will mark the start of a new beginning. His burial shall be as important as the Tiber is to Rome. For we are purgers, not murderers. O great Rome, I make thee promise, if the redress will follow, then receivest the full petition at the hand of Brutus!
What mutiny ravages in the heart of Rome! Savages roaming the streets, fickle cowards with foolish spirits. Oh what has chanced is beyond conceivable thought. Antony and Octavius drool over feeble Rome, as a vicious serpent salivates over a helpless cub. My mind shudders at the very thought of Rome being lead astray by an amoral being. Like a wasted harlot, is Rome in Antony’s eyes. And what am I, Marcus Brutus, doing? My heart crouches at its lowest nadir. For what help can one in need of it give?
Foolish are you Brutus! To have welcomed a shrewd contriver, such as Mark Antony, into your ranks. Doth Cassius not warn of his threat?
Oh Caesar, better you alive than lying silent. Speak! Caesar Speak! My callous hands, my mind of stone seeks Caesar’s pardon! As you did say “I am constant as the northern star”, so did my dagger plunge into your innocent flesh. Brutus stabbed himself in the heart as he crafted Caesar’s last. For your last words “Et tu Brute?” did pierce my contrite heart. I cried freedom, liberty! And Peace! But thy death marked the start of what I had feared.
Portia, my dear Portia, Brutus hath wronged thee most. My heart is grieved but let not my face show it. The weight of my guilt clings on like a heavy yoke, making every breath horrible. My spirit is dead; I find no pleasure save the thought of death. How I loved you, let us never forget. But how I harmed you, I can never repay.
Antony and Octavius are advancing, and war is but a proven prophecy. As wooden homes withstand torrential floods, Brutus’ and Cassius’ armies will withhold Antony’s and Octavius’ legions. The verdict is short and clear; unfortunate, but true.
Several times Casear’s ghost did rudely awake me. He maketh my blood cold, and my guilt to arise. He spoke of my death at Philippi. So it shall be, Brutus will pay for his foolishness! Caesar, soon I shall hold more talk with thee!