(Scene: Cassius admits Brutus into his private chambers and closes the door behind him.)
Cassius: Most noble Brutus, wherefore dost thou come?
Brutus: Belovéd Cassius, we come to ask
Whether in all thy schemes thou'st made a plan
To spread rhymed poetry throughout the land
For we wish to speak freely, if we can.
Cassius: O Brutus! Art thy head feeling quite well?
For thou shouldst know this just as well as I
We speak blank verse, blank verse! It never rhymes.
Brutus: But O Cassius! Cassius! (Might we call thee "Cassie"?
And might we drop the imperial "we"
And call thee by the intimate "you"?)
Grow you not tired of this verse, this fluff?
This iambic, pentametric, Shakespearean stuff?
The fault is not in our stars, but our tongues
Yes, our tongues! Those pink devils.
I'll take it no more! I've had enough.
Cassius: (dreamily) Why, 'tis true!
I feel free
Liberated, truly
As a crocodile
Endowed with the wings
of a butterfly
(hastily recovering his composure) But Brutus! Dost thou not know it is crime?
By Caesar's law, to speak in aught but his?
Surely they poetry's not worth thy neck!
Brutus: And therein lies the wherefore of my visit
For we must—
Cassius: Wait! What's that I hear?
(KNOCKING on the chamber door)
Brutus: Curse ill fate! This portent, rapping, tapping at your chamber door
Nay, I fear it, may I hear it, rapping here, nevermore
Prithee do not answer it, I beg of thee—
Cassius: Wherefore? Wherefore?
Why shall not I open this door?
So, pray cease your complaints, therefore
I shall – by Jove! I speak in rhyme!
It seems, dear Brutus, your tongue's beaten mine
(Cassius opens chamber door, and MARC ANTONY enters)
'Tis Antony! What is thy mission here?
Brutus: (fiercely) To better sell his soul to Caesar's hand!
This wyrm hast surely come to spy on us
To catch us in an act of blasphemy
That he might cut the tongues from our false lips.
Antony: (whimpering) Have pity on this honest soul of mine!
Thou shall not—
Cassius: Come now! Art the charges true?
Thou shall give us the honest truth—
Brutus: No lies!
Antony: Truly, good sirs, I come not to take tongues
For I have quite enough of those in stock
But there is something else I do not have
My friends, Romans, countrymen—
Brutus: To the point!
Antony: Lend me your ears!
Cassius: Our ears?
Antony: Your ears, I say.
You see, good sirs, I have a plan to sell
Recycled and reusable old parts
Not of machines but of quite real humans
And so my flaccid purse shall therefore swell
Brutus: He's mad!
Antony: I, mad?
Cassius: Yes, you, quite mad.
Antony: Brutus, durst thou listen to my pleas?
I take thee for an honorable man
As are you both, both honorable men
Should either one of thee lend me thy ears
I'll compensate thee with this shining gold.
Brutus: You fool! You dunce! You worse than stupid man!
Organ trafficking's not the noble path
The issue that's at stake is our free speech
To rhyme, or not to rhyme, that's the question
That we must ask the bottom of our… tongue
For I shall not participate in this,
The blank verse that so mocks my every word.
Antony: Poets die many times before their deaths
The unrhymed never taste of death but once
Brutus! Cassius! Pray heed my words!
There is a bone within the ears of men
Which, taken with scissors, is made of gold
With such fair treasure we are now afloat!
And we must harvest ears while we still may
Or risk losing the gold to wax buildup
Cassius: Brutus is right: the point is not the gold
But rather, 'tis the freedom of our speech
And herewith I shall speak blank verse no more.
Antony: So be it! Cleopatra will listen.
And Caesar, though your ears be deaf to me.
(Antony storms out of the chamber, clutching his ears and mumbling to himself.)
Brutus: Ah! Now, free are we to speak
As we would, by the dictates of our hearts
Instead of Caesar's harsh restrictive law
Which binds us to the shackles of blank verse.
Cassius: I feel free once more, and I think…
Brutus: Yes, you think?
Cassius: Only one thing may be done
And just that one thing: only one!
In order to end his harsh rule
We must kill Old Julie, that fool.
Brutus: Kill Caesar? My friend, that's a laborious task
And Caesar, he was close to me
Yet your vision is keen, and I perceive there to be
No solution save that which you see
Cassius: It's agreed? We kill Caesar? But what of the mob?
We must have excuses for Rome.
Brutus: No fear, we'll say for the "general" good
Of this empire they call home.
(Brutus and Cassius embrace and exit the chamber.)
