And swim to yonder point! Upon the word, And bade him follow: so indeed he did. Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder The old Anchises bears so, from the waves of Tiber, Did I the tired Cesar; and this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him 1 did mark How he did shake; 'tis true; this god did shake; And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, So get the start of the majestic world, Brutus and Cesar! What should be in that Cesar? XXI.-Brutus' Harrangue on the Death of Cesar.—Ie. ROMANS, Countrymen and Lovers !—Hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor 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 Cesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cesar was not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I bonor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. —Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him I have offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak; for him I have offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him I have offended. I pause for a reply None! Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cesar than you shall do to Brutus. The ques tion of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes his body, mourn'd by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you sball not? With this I depart—that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. XXII. Antony's Oration over Cesar's Body In. FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen! Lend me your earr. I come to bury Cesar, 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 Cesar! Noble Brutus He w But Brust y friend, faithful and just to me: And Brutus is an honoruble man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath wept ! Yet Brutus says he was ambitious And Brutus is an honorable 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 honorable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke; You all did love him once; not without cause; But yesterday the word Cesar might Have stood against the world! Now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. 0 Masters! If I were dispos'd to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I will not do them wrong—I rather choose But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar; Let but the commons hear this testament, And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's wounds, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Unto their issue.— If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember. The first time ever Cesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, Look! In this place ran Cassius' dagger through- E'en at the base of Pompcy's statue, ; (Which all the while ran blood) great Cesar fell. Good friends! Sweet friends! Let me not stir you Up To such a sudden flood of mutiny! They that have done this deed are honorable! What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it! They are wise and honorable, 1 come not, friends, to steal away your hearts! 1 am no orator, as Brutus is ; But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, That love my friend--and that they know full well, I tell you that which you yourselves do know— Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths. And bid them speak for me. But, were 1 Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue XXIII. Falstoff'i Soliloquy on Honor.—Henry IV. OWE heaven a death! 'Tis not due yet; and I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'ti» no matter—honor pricks me on-But how, if honor prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a leg? No; or an arm? no ; or take away the grieF of a wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honor? A word. What is that word honor? Air; trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live With the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it. Honor is a meie 'scutcheon—and so ends my catechism. XXIV. Part of Richard Ill's Soliloquy the night preceding the Battle of Bosworth. Tragedy Of Richard III. 'TIS now the dead of night, and half the world Is with a lonely solemn darkness hung; Yet I (so coy a dame is sleep to me) With all the weary courtship of My care tir'd thoughts, can't win her to my bed, Though e'en the stars do wink, as 'twere, with over watching I'il forth, and walk awhile. The air's refreshing, And the ripe harvest of the new mown hay Gives it a sweet and wholesome odor. How awful is thi3 gloom! And hark! From camp to camp. The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd centiuels almost receive The secret whisper of each other's watch! Steed threatens steed in high and boasting neighings, With clink of hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation: while some, The morning's danger. By yon heaven, my stern |