Julius Caesar basically

[SCENE I: BRUTUS — alone in his chamber] BRUTUS (to the flame): O Rome, if thou hadst a heart, it would break. I am no more man, nor patriot, nor friend— I am the space between two blades. Caesar loves me. Cassius wants me. And I— I want to be clean of both. But how does one shed gods and serpents? How does one choose between the sun And the moon that sings rebellion? (He touches a letter from Cassius. His hand shakes.) He says I am noble. He says I am needed. But all I hear is: Be mine. Not for love—no— For what I represent. And Caesar… Caesar looks at me like I was born from his own ribs. Does he not see I tremble under his gaze? That I would kiss his hand if it did not hold the world? --- [SCENE II: CASSIUS — walking under the stars] CASSIUS (to the night): Brutus thinks in marble. He cannot see the blood in beauty, The hunger beneath philosophy. But I do. I see him—untouched, ideal— And I would ruin the world to touch him once. Caesar calls him friend. Friend. Such a word should rot in the mouth of tyrants. He chains Brutus with kindness, Clothes control in affection. And Brutus—gods curse him— He loves it. Well. Let him love me instead, In the aftermath. When Caesar is ash and I am the only flame left. --- [SCENE III: CAESAR — in his bed, restless with a dream] CAESAR (half-awake, whispering): Brutus. Thou movest in dreams now. I see thee cloaked in shadow and in shame. Would you leave me to the knives of cowards? Or worse—would you hold the knife yourself? They say I am become a god. Yet gods cannot weep. Why then do I wake with salt on my lips And thy name like a thorn in my chest? I gave thee all, Brutus. Not just Rome— I gave thee me. If I must fall, Let it be in thy arms. Let it be you, not because you hate me— But because you loved me too much To let me stay a god. --- [SCENE IV: All three — overlapping in soft crescendo] BRUTUS: He loved me. CASSIUS: He binds you. CAESAR: I trusted you. BRUTUS: I break for both. CASSIUS: Choose, Brutus. Choose. CAESAR: Even in death, I would forgive you. (A long silence. Then: the sound of metal unsheathed.) BRUTUS (whispered): Et tu, Brute... Would that someone could say it to me.