The Defense of Brutus

Romans, countrymen, and lovers!

hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear:

believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may
believe:

censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better
judge.

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar’s, to him I say, that
Brutus’ love to Caesar was no less than his.

If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my
answer:–

Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were
dead, to live all free men?

As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he
was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.

There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death
for his ambition.

Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I
offended.

Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I
offended.

Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I
offended.

I pause for a reply.

 Speech: “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend
me your ears”
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their
bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was
ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest– for Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men–
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious; and Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; and Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; and, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
Declamation Piece- Despair of Judas

I will rest here, awhile. His face! His face! Not comely now. There is no beauty in it.
It is scarred into my heart. It is burned into my soul and never will it lift from me until
I die. Die? Will death quench the flames which consume me? Traitor, not endless years
in hell can even pay the crime of murdering the son of God.

And last night, he dealt with me so gently. He washed my feet. He bade me to put my
hand into the cup with his, while in my purse there jingled the coins which bought his
blood. It was better for that man that he had never been born. Who? Who but I, who
but I, I who betrayed him!

“What you do, do it quickly.” He knew, and kept my sin a secret.

“Friend, where unto have you come, Judas, Judas, do you betray the Son of God with
a kiss?”

Friend! Friend! He called me his friend. The man I betrayed called me his friend. How
hell must have laughed. Why did not the mountains fall on me?

Why did not the earth gape and swallow me up? Why did not the sea overwhelm me?
Friend. Ha! Ha! Friend. Ha! Ha! Ha! The world will know Judas as the friend.

The world will point to Judas as a by word, and as a pledge of broken faith!

Do you think Judas you can hide from the father of your friend Jesus? Not even in hell
can I escape. Not in the grave for the earth will spurn my corpse. Not in the heavens
for Jesus the friend is there.

What hope for Judas? What hope for Judas? Not even in hell can I escape for he called
me devil, and devils cried out: torment us not, Jesus, Judas, faithless friend, devil,
one of whom it would have been better not to have been born.

There is no hope for you, no hope, no hope…

 “To be, or not to be”
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
 The Two Standards by: Horacio de la Costa, S.J

Life is a Warfare: a warfare between two standards: the Standard of

Christ and the Standard of Satan. It is a warfare older than the world, for
it began with the revolt of the angels. It is a warfare wide as the world; it
rages in every nation, every city, in the heart of every man.

Satan desires all men to come under his Standard, and to this end lures
them with riches, honors, power, all that ministers to the lust and pride
of man. Christ on the contrary, invites all to fight under His Standard.
But He offers no worldly allurement; only Himself. Only Jesus; only the
Son of Man; born an outcast, raised in poverty, rejected as a
teacher, betrayed by His friend, crucified as a criminal. And therefore
His followers shall not be confounded forever; they are certain of
ultimate victory; against them, the gates of Hell cannot prevail. The
powers of darkness shall splinter before their splendid battalions. Battle-
scarred but resplendent, they shall enter into glory with Christ, their
king .

Two armies, two Standards, two generals… and to every man there
comes the imperious cry of command: Choose! Christ or Satan? Choose!
Sanctity or Sin? Choose! Heaven or Hell? And in the choice he
makes, is summed up the life of every man.
 “I Have a Dream”

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious
racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the
words of interposition and nullification – one day right there in
Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join
hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and
brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted,
and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough
places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be
made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and
all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South
with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain
of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to
transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful
symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to
work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to
jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that
we will be free one day.
This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God’s
children will be able to sing with new meaning “My country ’tis
of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my
father’s died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride, from every
mountainside, let freedom ring!”
“The Gettysburg Address”
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on
this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that
nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can
long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We
have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting
place for those who here gave their lives that that nation
might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do
this.
But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate – we cannot
consecrate – we cannot hallow – this ground. The brave men,
living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far
above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little
note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never
forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be
dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought
here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be
here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that
from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that
cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion –
that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have
died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new
birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the
people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.