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As Cæsar's death's-hour; nor no instrument

Of half that worth, as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die:

No place will please me so, no mean of death,
As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master-spirits of this age.

Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us :
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands, and this our present act,
You see we do; yet see you but our hands,
Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful;
And pity for the general wrong of Rome,
Hath done this deed on Cæsar: for your part,
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony;
And our hearts, of brothers' temper, do receive you in,
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's,
In the disposing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd
The multitude, beside themselves with fear;
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him,
Proceeded thus.

Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.

Let each man render me his bloody hand;
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;

Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all- -alas! what shall I say?

My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward, or a flatterer.

That I did love thee, Cæsar, oh, 'tis true:
If then thy spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most noble! in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes, as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better, than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius here wast thou bay'd, good

Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand,
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy death.
Cas. Mark Antony-

Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius:
The enemies of Cæsar shall say this:
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

Cas. I blame you not for praising Cæsar so, But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prick'd in number of our friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was in-

Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cæsar.
Friends am I with you all, and love you all;
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons,
Why and wherein Cæsar was dangerous.

Bru. Or else this were a savage spectacle.
Our reasons are so full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar,
You should be satisfied.

Ant. That's all I seek;

And am moreover suitor, that I may
Produce his body in the market-place,
And in the rostrum, as becomes a friend,


order of his funeral.

all, Mark Antony.

Cas. Brutus, a word with you

You know not what you do; do not consent, [Aside.
That Antony speak in his funeral:

Know you how much the people may be mov'd,
By that which he will utter?

Bru. By your pardon,

I will myself into the rostrum first,
And show the reason of our Cæsar's death.
What Antony shall speak, I will protest
He speaks by leave, and by permission;
And that we are contented Cæsar shall
Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies :
It shall advantage, more than do us wrong.

Cat. I know not what may fall, I like it not.
Bru. Mark Antony,

You shall not in your funeral-speech blame us,
But speak all good you can devise, of Cæsar;
And say, you do't by our permission:
Else shall you not have any hand at all,
About his funeral. And you shall speak

In the same rostrum whereto I am going,
After my speech is ended.

Ant. Be it so;

I do desire no more.

Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us.

[Exeunt all but Antony.

Ant. O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth! That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man,

That ever lived in the tide of times.

Woe to the hand, that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,

(Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue)
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife,

Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,

And dreadful objects so familiar,

That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd by the hands of war;
All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds;
And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall, in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry, Havoc ! and let slip the dogs of war;

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth. [Exit.


The Forum.

Enter Brutus, and mounts the Rostrum; Cassius with the Plebeians.

1 Pleb. The noble Brutus is ascended: silence! Bru. Be patient to the last. 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 Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus's love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer; not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men! As Cæsar 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 are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition. Who's 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—

All. None, Brutus, none.

Bru. Then none have I offended—I have done no more to Cæsar, than you shall do to Brutus. The question 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, mourned 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 shall 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.

All. Live, Brutus, live! live!

1 Pleb. Bring him with triumph home unto his house. 2 Pleb. Give him a statue with his ancestors.

3 Pleb. Let him be Cæsar.

1 Pleb. We'll bring him to his house,

With shouts and clamours.

Bru. My countrymen

2 Pleb. Peace! silence! Brutus speaks. 1 Pleb. Peace, ho!

Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
And for my sake, stay here with Antony;

Do grace to Cæsar's corpse and grace his speech
Tending to Cæsar's glories; which Mark Antony,
By our permission, is allow'd to make.

I do entreat you, not a man depart,
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.

Enter Antony and the Body.


1 Pleb. Stay, ho, and let us hear Mark Antony. 3 Pleb. Let him go up into the public chair. We'll hear him: noble Antony, go up.


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