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[Verse 1]
I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men
And turn preordinance and first decree
Into the law of children. Be not fond
To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
That will be thawed from the true quality
With that which melteth fools—I mean sweet
words,
Low-crookèd curtsies, and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banishèd.
If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know: Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause
Will he be satisfied.
[Pre-Chorus]
Is there no voice more worthy than my own
To sound more sweetly in great Caesar’s ear
For the repealing of my banished brother?
[Chorus]
I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar,
Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Et tu, Brutè?
[Verse 2]
I could be well moved, if I were as you.
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me.
But I am constant as the Northern Star,
Of whose true fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks;
They are all fire, and every one doth shine.
But there’s but one in all doth hold his place.
So in the world: ’tis furnished well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive.
Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshaked of motion; and that I am he
Let me a little show it, even in this:
That I was constant Cimber should be banished
And constant do remain to keep him so.
And constant do remain to keep him so.
[Pre-Chorus]
Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon!
As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber
[Chorus]
I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar,
Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Et tu, Brutè?
[Drop]
[Instrumental Interlude]
[Bridge]
O Caesar
Hence. Wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Great Caesar
Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
Speak, hands, for me!
[Chorus]
I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar,
Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Et tu, Brutè?
[Outro]
Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets
[Ending]
[Outro]
Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets
[Ending]
