The text described it as an energetic place full of activity and an exciting place to be. In the passage, energetic describes a place, but the word energetic can also describe a person. Learning the words will help you choose the right word to use when you describe people in speaking and writing.
They are effective, especially in difficult situations. Choose a word from the chart to identify the type of person described. A person who participates in several after-school activities 2. A person who complains about standing in line 3.
A person who is particular about how something is done 4. A person who is able to solve a problem creatively 5. A person who wants the corn and peas in separate dishes 6. Write a response using the word in boldface. Think about a time you felt impatient. What made you feel impatient? At what time of day do you feel most energetic? Why do you think this is so? Some people are finicky about what they eat.
What are you finicky about? Do you think a cook should be resourceful? Explain your answer. At least, I always assumed she was. If you took a poll, most people would say athletes in 3-kilometer races in the vicinity of our are naturally competitive, but for some reason, school. In fact, a competitive spirit is a healthy never thought anyone would displace Denise as thing. When Coach Karen told me after my last race. This was identical to what had happened at was completely empty except for one thought: the beginning of my last two races.
All of a sudden, I felt line less than a meter ahead of Denise. I had like winning! Running hard, I moved caught our breaths. I not have enough energy to finish. One thing was obvious. With each step, I saw the soles of her great race. Usually, my mind more—finally! Also, now go. I estimate how much energy I have left. This race, do it again. This time, my mind all about. Things that look exactly alike are said to be. A heavy snowstorm would produce a n. To make an injury less painful is to it.
A grocery store in your neighborhood is in the of your home. A cool, breezy morning might be described as. A person who is thoughtful of the feelings of others is said to be. To learn the opinions of consumers, you might them.
To take special care of something is to it. A rough calculation is also called a n. To move something aside is to it. Rude behavior might be criticized as. To embarrass or disgrace someone is to that person. Then write the displace downfall estimate word in the space provided.
The mayor immediately denied the charge, declaring that she had never personally profited from her office. The mayor went on to win by a landslide.
Some of these robes and the tents were made from buffalo hides. To dishonor these customs was a serious offense. Here are three more types of context clues. Notice the words that signal each type of clue. The familiar words in one part help to explain the unfamiliar word in the other part. A mouse can squeeze through a crack because its bones are flexible.
I thought the audition went well, but the results turned out to be dismal. Signal words: however, although, nevertheless, unlike, but Comparison A word or phrase having the same or similar meaning as an unfamiliar word explains the meaning of the unfamiliar word. The dank cellar is chilly and damp. Moreover, it is dark and musty. Write the meaning of the boldface word. Underline the words that helped you figure out its meaning.
In addition, its body is massive. Although most members of the cat family dislike the water, tigers seem to savor a swim on a hot day. A tarantula is a large, hairy spider that looks dangerous. Be sure the signal word makes sense in your sentence. Since I made a good impression on my teacher, he. I savor my meals with Dad.
In addition, I. I was prepared for the massive storm. With a partner, look through books or magazines to find sentences with signal words.
Discuss the kinds of context clues that are in those sentences. But once admitted Elizabeth into its she chose to become a doctor, medical program. When she got she let nothing stop her.
In the there, she learned that her acceptance mids, medical schools did not was a joke. Some teachers and classmates accept female students.
People believed then tried to humiliate her. Others ignored her. This view made Elizabeth angry. She behavior keep her from accomplishing her knew that many women would feel more at goal. An industrious student, she went to ease consulting a woman about their health her classes and studied hard. Eventually, she than a man. Despite public opinion, she earned the admiration of her fellow students.
In January , Elizabeth Blackwell Elizabeth applied to many medical schools, graduated at the head of her class. She became but she was rejected by each and every one. At her graduation, she said, alternate plans for her education. She on this diploma. She never stopped working, and practicing medicine.
The meaning of improper in this strive is passage is a give up. The meaning of alternate in this 6. Industrious most nearly means passage is a hard working.
Another word for humiliate is barriers is a encourage. Based on this passage, Elizabeth 8. What can be learned from Elizabeth Blackwell can best be described as Blackwell? Think of a time when you worked hard to accomplish a goal. Write to tell what you accomplished and how you were able to do it.
Use at least three words from Units 7—9. The Spanish Spain. From there, the potato spread to other parts of Europe. Many people who grew and ate potatoes enjoyed the new food, but some who arrived in Peru in were interested in doctors and scientists had serious doubts. They gold and silver, not potatoes. Nevertheless, condemned potatoes, claiming they caused when they descended the Andes and left Peru, disease.
In France, some even tried to abolish they carried some of the strange new vegetables the planting of the new crop, claiming it with them and later brought them back to ruined the soil. Despite these extreme reactions, however, most Europeans eventually realized that potatoes were a good source of nutrition.
Nowhere were potatoes grown more widely than in Ireland. In the s, Ireland was a very poor country, controlled by an English parliament that acted like a dictator. Most Irish farmers could only afford to rent small plots of land. Raising enough food for a family was a constant challenge. The thrifty Irish farmers d only a shovel to A farmer neede plant potatoes. To survive, people appealed their land than they could wheat, oats, or to friends and relatives for help.
They sold barley. Also, potato fields did not need to be whatever portable possessions they had on plowed. As a result, a farmer did not need hand in order to buy food.
Eventually, they a horse and plow—only a shovel—to plant had nothing left that could be carried away. For over a century, the new crop helped feed The potato fungus was like a predator, and a growing population. Then, in , disaster the Irish people were its prey. Weak from struck.
A fungus, which is a type of plant hunger, many were unable to fight off disease. On a visual level, its To make matters worse, the normally mild effects were horrifying. It could turn a healthy Irish winter turned bitterly cold in the winter green potato field into a dark, wilted mess. On of — By , about a million people a practical level, the harm it could cause soon had died of hunger or disease. Another million became clear as well.
Although America. In the years that followed, good this occurrence caused widespread hunger, potato harvests returned, but for the estimated most people survived and looked forward one-quarter of the population that had died or to the next harvest. In fact, many farmers emigrated, it was too late. In the summer of , the fungus reappeared. Food prices shot up, and a serious famine By , about o ne million Irish e North America. To judge an action as wrong is to it. Something that is hunted is called.
An object that you can pick up and carry with you could be described as. A serious food shortage might cause a n. To put an end to something is to it. Something that attracts is said to have. A ruler who does not share power is a n. An object that snaps easily is said to be. A experience is one that has to do with sight prey on it. To move downward is to.
A person who looks for bargains is. Then write the condemn descend dictator word in the space provided. Abraham Lincoln, too, personally hated slavery but was prepared to accept it if by doing so the Union could be preserved. In Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing slaves in the states of the Confederacy.
If a drought lasts for a long time, plants and crops die. So far, many businesses have answered her with computers for our classroom. A dictator is most likely 7. If a famine struck, a. If a book appeals to you, 8.
Which is a bird of prey? Which would most likely be 9. Which might you descend? If my waistline expands, I get 4. A thrifty person would a. If something is brittle, 5. If a rule is abolished, a. Which type of house is meant to be 6. Which is a visual aid?
Roots port—carry have meaning, but few roots can stand The root port alone. Knowing the meaning of a root appears in po When so rtable page mething is po can sometimes help you figure out the easily moved rtable, it is or carried. Often, the root mit—send comes from a different language, such The root mit appears in em as Latin or Greek.
When buse ey give off un s and gases. When do we have to our ideas for the science fair? The helped us get our suitcases off the bus. Many countries bananas from Costa Rica. Stores on an island most of their merchandise. The principal uses a microphone to daily announcements. The hotel guest asked the porter to. You can transmit information by. Some things our country might import are. Work with a partner to list other words that contain the roots port and mit. Write definitions for the words.
You cannot figure out its meaning from the individual words. Here is an example: Along the boardwalk, business is either feast or famine. Business is robust when the weather is sunny and warm, but it is slow when it is rainy and cold. Here, the idiom either feast or famine has nothing to do with food.
Figure out the meaning of each idiom in boldface. Write the number of the sentence next to the meaning of the idiom. I was supposed to give my speech today, but I got put yourself in a tough cold feet and asked to be excused.
I worked against the clock to finish my book make a bad situation report. After all, she did try hard. When my best friend also made the soccer team, it was the icing on the cake. While I was waiting to hear the test results, I was on pins and needles. A valanche! As they race closer, they call in an the skier looks up in horror, he loses his urgent plea for help. Fortunately, members of footing.
Tons of snow On snowmobiles, they navigate across the knock him over and drag him down the rugged landscape toward the disaster site. In seconds, the skier is buried. At first, he is angry with himself for not staying with his group and for getting himself into such a dangerous situation. Muttering tart comments about his bad luck, he tries to dig his way to the surface.
He is too deeply buried for that, though. Instead, he decides to stay still and conserve the oxygen in the air pockets around him.
Absurd as it sounds, the skier nestles into the snow, hoping that other members of his ski party will have seen the avalanche and notice that he is missing. Fortunately, the buried skier is wearing cons and a beacon. This electronic device sends out Rescuers use bea r a skier a regular signal to help rescuers locate him. There is no realistic way to avoid all the dangers of winter in the backcountry.
The National Ski Patrol is the largest arriving on the scene, they turn their own winter rescue organization in the world. Since beacons to Receive. The rescuers rescued thousands of skiers and hikers. The also spot the ski mitten that the skier lost organization provides a sense of security in the avalanche. The guiding whereabouts. I'm comfortable with it. Easy for him to say. Easy even to accept the hurt she'd inflicted on him all these years. Do you think it's easy when you disappear for months on end?
Do you think it's easy always wondering who you're with and what you're doing and if you're even alive? Do you think it's easy raising a child like that on your own?
She'd blamed him for everything, but he bore it gracefully because he knew it was all a lie. He knew he was only the pretense. She wasn't leaving because he was AWOL, or unfaithful. Her departure had nothing to do with him at all.
It was me. Helen had left the world because she couldn't stand to look at the thing who'd replaced her son. The stars were falling. The Zodiac had rearranged itself into a precise grid of bright points with luminous tails.
It was as though the whole planet had been caught in some great closing net, the knots of its mesh aglow with St. Elmo's fire.
It was beautiful. It was terrifying. I looked away to recalibrate my distance vision, to give this ill-behaved hallucination a chance to vanish gracefully before I set my empirical gaze to high-beam.
I saw a vampire in that moment, a female, walking among us like the archetypal wolf in sheep's clothing. Vampires were uncommon creatures at street level.
I'd never seen one in the flesh before. She had just stepped onto the street from the building across the way. She stood a head taller than the rest of us, her eyes shining yellow and bright as a cat's in the deepening dark. She realized, as I watched, that something was amiss.
Totally indifferent to the fact that the world had just turned inside-out. It was Greenwich Mean Time, February 13, They clenched around the world like a fist, each black as the inside of an event horizon until those last bright moments when they all burned together.
They screamed as they died. Every radio up to geostat groaned in unison, every infrared telescope went briefly snowblind. Ashes stained the sky for weeks afterwards; mesospheric clouds, high above the jet stream, turned to glowing rust with every sunrise. The objects, apparently, consisted largely of iron. Nobody ever knew what to make of that. For perhaps the first time in history, the world knew before being told : if you'd seen the sky, you had the scoop. The usual arbiters of newsworthiness, stripped of their accustomed role in filtering reality, had to be content with merely labeling it.
It took them ninety minutes to agree on Fireflies. A half hour after that, the first Fourier transforms appeared in the noosphere; to no one's great surprise, the Fireflies had not wasted their dying breaths on static. There was pattern embedded in that terminal chorus, some cryptic intelligence that resisted all earthly analysis. The experts, rigorously empirical, refused to speculate: they only admitted that the Fireflies had said something. They didn't know what. Everyone else did.
How else would you explain 65, probes evenly dispersed along a lat-long grid that barely left any square meter of planetary surface unexposed? Obviously the Flies had taken our picture. The whole world had been caught with its pants down in panoramic composite freeze-frame. My father might have known someone who might have known. But by then he'd long since disappeared, as he always did during times of hemispheric crisis. Whatever he knew or didn't, he left me to find my own answers with everyone else.
There was no shortage of perspectives. The noosphere seethed with scenarios ranging from utopian to apocalyptic.
The Fireflies had seeded lethal germs through the jet stream. The Fireflies had been on a nature safari. The Icarus Array was being retooled to power a doomsday weapon against the aliens. The Icarus Array had already been destroyed. We had decades to react; anything from another solar system would have to obey the lightspeed limit like everyone else.
We had days to live; organic warships had just crossed the asteroid belt and would be fumigating the planet within a week. Like everyone else, I bore witness to lurid speculations and talking heads. I visited blathernodes, soaked myself in other people's opinions. That was nothing new, as far as it went; I'd spent my whole life as a sort of alien ethologist in my own right, watching the world behave, gleaning patterns and protocols, learning the rules that allowed me to infiltrate human society.
It had always worked before. Somehow, though, the presence of real aliens had changed the dynamics of the equation. Mere observation didn't satisfy any more. It was as though the presence of this new outgroup had forced me back into the clade whether I liked it or not; the distance between myself and the world suddenly seemed forced and faintly ridiculous. Yet I couldn't, for my life, figure out how to let it go.
Chelsea had always said that telepresence emptied the Humanity from Human interaction. But it's not. It's just shadows on the cave wall. I mean, sure, the shadows come in three-dee color with force-feedback tactile interactivity. They're good enough to fool the civilized brain.
But your gut knows those aren't people , even if it can't put its finger on how it knows. They just don't feel real. Know what I mean? I didn't. Back then I'd had no clue what she was talking about. But now we were all cavemen again, huddling beneath some overhang while lightning split the heavens and vast formless monsters, barely glimpsed in bright strobe-frozen instants, roared and clashed in the darkness on all sides.
There was no comfort in solitude. You couldn't get it from interactive shadows. You needed someone real at your side, someone to hold on to, someone to share your airspace along with your fear and hope and uncertainty.
I imagined the presence of companions who wouldn't vanish the moment I unplugged. But Chelsea was gone, and Pag in her wake. Flesh and blood had its own relationship to reality: necessary, but not sufficient. Watching the world from a distance, it occurred to me at last: I knew exactly what Chelsea had meant, with her Luddite ramblings about desaturated Humanity and the colorless interactions of virtual space. I'd known all along. I'd just never been able to see how it was any different from real life.
Imagine you are a machine. Yes, I know. But imagine you're a different kind of machine, one built from metal and plastic and designed not by blind, haphazard natural selection but by engineers and astrophysicists with their eyes fixed firmly on specific goals.
Imagine that your purpose is not to replicate, or even to survive, but to gather information. I can imagine that easily. It is in fact a much simpler impersonation than the kind I'm usually called on to perform. I coast through the abyss on the colder side of Neptune's orbit. Most of the time I exist only as an absence, to any observer on the visible spectrum: a moving, asymmetrical silhouette blocking the stars. But occasionally, during my slow endless spin, I glint with dim hints of reflected starlight.
If you catch me in those moments you might infer something of my true nature: a segmented creature with foil skin, bristling with joints and dishes and spindly antennae. Here and there a whisper of accumulated frost clings to a joint or seam, some frozen wisp of gas encountered in Jupiter space perhaps.
Now, a breath away from Absolute Zero, they might shatter at a photon's touch. My heart is warm, at least. A tiny nuclear fire burns in my thorax, leaves me indifferent to the cold outside. It won't go out for a thousand years, barring some catastrophic accident; for a thousand years, I will listen for faint voices from Mission Control and do everything they tell me to. So far they have told me to study comets. Every instruction I have ever received has been a precise and unambiguous elaboration on that one overriding reason for my existence.
Which is why these latest instructions are so puzzling, for they make no sense at all. The frequency is wrong.
The signal strength is wrong. I cannot even understand the handshaking protocols. I request clarification. The response arrives almost a thousand minutes later, and it is an unprecedented mix of orders and requests for information. I answer as best I can: yes, this is the bearing at which signal strength was greatest. No, it is not the usual bearing for Mission Control. Yes, I can retransmit: here it is, all over again.
Yes, I will go into standby mode. I await further instructions. They arrive minutes later, and they tell me to stop studying comets immediately.
Upon encountering any transmission resembling the one which confused me, I am to fix upon the bearing of maximal signal strength and derive a series of parameter values. I am also instructed to retransmit the signal to Mission Control. I do as I'm told. For a long time I hear nothing, but I am infinitely patient and incapable of boredom. Eventually a fleeting, familiar signal brushes against my afferent array.
I reacquire and track it to source, which I am well-equipped to describe: a trans-Neptunian comet in the Kuiper Belt, approximately two hundred kilometers in diameter.
It is sweeping a cm tightbeam radio wave across the heavens with a periodicity of 4. This beam does not intersect Mission Control's coordinates at any point. It appears to be directed at a different target entirely. It takes much longer than usual for Mission Control to respond to this information. When it does, it tells me to change course. Mission Control informs me that henceforth my new destination is to be referred to as Burns-Caulfield. Given current fuel and inertial constraints I will not reach it in less than thirty-nine years.
I am to watch nothing else in the meantime. I'd been liaising for a team at the Kurzweil Institute, a fractured group of cutting-edge savants convinced they were on the verge of solving the quantum-glial paradox. That particular log-jam had stalled AI for decades; once broken, the experts promised we'd be eighteen months away from the first personality upload and only two years from reliable Human-consciousness emulation in a software environment.
It would spell the end of corporeal history, usher in a Singularity that had been waiting impatiently in the wings for nigh on fifty years. Two months after Firefall, the Institute cancelled my contract. I was actually surprised it had taken them so long. It had cost us so much, this overnight inversion of global priorities, these breakneck measures making up for lost initiative.
Not even our shiny new post-scarcity economy could withstand such a seismic shift without lurching towards bankruptcy. Installations in deep space, long since imagined secure by virtue of their remoteness, were suddenly vulnerable for exactly the same reason. Lagrange habitats had to be refitted for defense against an unknown enemy. Commercial ships on the Martian Loop were conscripted, weaponised, and reassigned; some secured the high ground over Mars while others fell sunward to guard the Icarus Array.
It didn't matter that the Fireflies hadn't fired a shot at any of these targets. We simply couldn't afford the risk. We were all in it together, of course, desperate to regain some hypothetical upper hand by any means necessary. Kings and corporations scribbled IOUs on the backs of napkins and promised to sort everything out once the heat was off. In the meantime, the prospect of Utopia in two years took a back seat to the shadow of Armageddon reaching back from next Tuesday.
The Kurzweil Institute, like everyone else, suddenly had other things to worry about. So I returned to my apartment, split a bulb of Glenfiddich, and arrayed virtual windows like daisy petals in my head.
Everyone Icons debated on all sides, serving up leftovers two weeks past their expiry date:. Disgraceful breakdown of global security. No harm done. Comsats annihilated. Thousands dead. Random collisions. Accidental deaths. We should have seen them coming.
Deep space. Inverse square. Do the math. They were stealthed! We were raped! Jesus Christ. They just took our picture. Why the silence? Moon's fine. Mars's fine. Where are they? Why haven't they made contact? Nothing's touched the O'Neills. Technology Implies Belligerence! Are they coming back?
Nothing attacked us. Nothing invaded. So far. But where are they? Jim Moore Voice Only. The text window blossomed directly in my line of sight, eclipsing the debate. I read it twice. I tried to remember the last time he'd called from the field, and couldn't.
I muted the other windows. Still wondering whether we should be celebrating or crapping our pants. He didn't answer immediately. They're not telling us anything at ground level. It was a rhetorical request. His silence was hardly necessary to make the point. Icarus's fine. He seemed to be weighing his words. There's no particle trail as long as it stays offstream, and it would be buried in solar glare unless someone knew where to search.
It was my turn to fall silent. This conversation felt suddenly wrong. Because when my father went on the job, he went dark.
He never called his family. Because even when my father came off the job, he never talked about it. It wouldn't matter whether the Icarus Array was still online or whether it had been shredded and thrown into the sun like a thousand kilometers of torn origami; he wouldn't tell either tale unless an official announcement had been made.
Icarus was overdue for a visit anyway. You don't swap out your whole grid without at least dropping in and kicking the new tires first. Nearly three seconds to respond. Isn't this a security breach? Radio bounced back and forth. I wanted very much for them to pick someone else.
But he'd seen it coming, and preempted me before my words could cross the distance: "It's not a slap at your abilities and you know it. You're simply the most qualified, and the work is vital. He wouldn't want to keep me away from some theoretical gig in a WestHem lab. They found something. From the Kuiper. Inman, V. Anaheim, CA. Investigation of the Impact of Medians on Road Users. A Cost Tradeoff Methodology Guide. Jagannathan R. Jutaek O.
Lyon C. Malfunction Management System, Vol. And do you now cull out a holiday? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. FLAVIUS Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Assemble all the poor men of your sort; Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
Exeunt all the Commoners See whether their basest metal be not moved; They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. You know it is the feast of Lupercal. Caesar speaks. Flourish Soothsayer Caesar! Soothsayer Beware the ides of March. Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors; But let not therefore my good friends be grieved— Among which number, Cassius, be you one— Nor construe any further my neglect, Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus: Were I a common laugher, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protester; if you know That I do fawn on men and hug them hard And after scandal them, or if you know That I profess myself in banqueting To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
I do fear, the people Choose Caesar for their king. Then must I think you would not have it so. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? Well, honour is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. Ye gods, it doth amaze me A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, That he is grown so great?
Age, thou art shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was famed with more than with one man? Now is it Rome indeed and room enough, When there is in it but one only man. What you have said I will consider; what you have to say I will with patience hear, and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. CASCA Why, there was a crown offered him: and being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.
Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by: and still as he refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man.
CASCA Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues.
And so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity.
Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. Farewell, both. He was quick mettle when he went to school. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. For this time I will leave you: To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you.
Thunder and lightning. Why are you breathless? O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, To be exalted with the threatening clouds: But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction. And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noon-day upon the market-place, Hooting and shrieking.
Come Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow? Cassius, what night is this! It is the part of men to fear and tremble, When the most mighty gods by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. You look pale and gaze And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder, To see the strange impatience of the heavens: But if you would consider the true cause Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, Why old men fool and children calculate, Why all these things change from their ordinance Their natures and preformed faculties To monstrous quality,—why, you shall find That heaven hath infused them with these spirits, To make them instruments of fear and warning Unto some monstrous state.
Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night, That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars As doth the lion in the Capitol, A man no mightier than thyself or me In personal action, yet prodigious grown And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.
CASSIUS I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides, That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure. Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf, But that he sees the Romans are but sheep: He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. Those that with haste will make a mighty fire Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome, What rubbish and what offal, when it serves For the base matter to illuminate So vile a thing as Caesar!
But, O grief, Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this Before a willing bondman; then I know My answer must be made. Hold, my hand: Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest. Metellus Cimber? What a fearful night is this! Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? Well, I will hie, And so bestow these papers as you bade me. Let us go, For it is after midnight; and ere day We will awake him and be sure of him. I cannot, by the progress of the stars, Give guess how near to day.
Lucius, I say! I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. When, Lucius, when? It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him? He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.
So Caesar may. Then, lest he may, prevent. Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? Speak, strike, redress! What, Rome? O Rome, I make thee promise: If the redress will follow, thou receivest Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!
Go to the gate; somebody knocks. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
O conspiracy, Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, When evils are most free? O, then by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy; Hide it in smiles and affability: For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention.
Know I these men that come along with you? This is Trebonius. What watchful cares do interpose themselves Betwixt your eyes and night? Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, Which is a great way growing on the south, Weighing the youthful season of the year. Some two months hence up higher toward the north He first presents his fire; and the high east Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.
But if these, As I am sure they do, bear fire enough To kindle cowards and to steel with valour The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, What need we any spur but our own cause, To prick us to redress?
I think he will stand very strong with us. But, alas, Caesar must bleed for it! And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. BRUTUS Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untired spirits and formal constancy: And so good morrow to you every one.
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