it was in danger you had been eating game pie . What is it this time? 12th - - Remember Caesar Page WESTON ( annihilating her flippancy with one broadside ): Assassination! LADY WESTON: Well, well!
You always wanted to be a great man and now you have got your wish! WESTON: What do you mean? LADY WESTON: They don’t assassinate nobodies. WESTON ( showing her the paper ): Read that, and see if you can laugh.
LADY WESTON: I’m not laughing. ( Trying to read ): What a dreadful scrawl. WESTON: Yes, the venomous scribbling of an illiterate. LADY WESTON ( deciphering ): ‘ Remember Caesar ’.
Is it a riddle? WESTON: It is a death warrant. Do you know what day this is? LADY WESTON: Thursday.
WESTON: What day of the month? LADY WESTON: About the twelfth, I should guess. WESTON ( with meaning ): It is the fifteenth. The fifteenth of March.
LADY WESTON: Lawdamussy ! Your good sister’s birthday! And we haven’t sent her as much as a lily! WESTON: I have deplored before, Frances, the incurable lightness of your mind.
On the fifteenth of March, Caesar was murdered in the Forum. LADY WESTON: Yes, of course, I remember. They couldn’t stand his airs any longer. WESTON ( reproving ): He was a great man.
LADY WESTON ( kindly ): Yes, my dear, I am sure he was. ( Looking again at the scrap of paper ) And is someone thinking of murdering you? WESTON: Obviously. LADY WESTON: I wonder someone hasn’t done it long ago.
( Before the look of wonder can grow in his eye ) A great many people must hate judges. And you are a strict judge, they say. WESTON: It is the law that is strict. I am a judge, my good Frances, not a juggler.
I have never twisted the law to please the mob, and, I shall not please them by dying on the day of their choice. LADY WESTON: No, of course not. You shall not go out of the house to-day. A nice light