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, O, '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, brave
Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand, Sign'd in thy spoil and crimson'd in thy lethe.
O world, thou wast the forest to this hart; And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. How like a deer strucken by many princes Dost thou here lie!
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 indeed 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 were this a savage spectacle :
Our reasons are so full of good regard That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar, You should be satisfied.
That's all I seek: And am moreover suitor that I may Produce his body to the market-place, And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral.
Bru. You shall, Mark Antony.
[Aside to Bru.] You know not what you do: do not
That Antony speak in his funeral:
Know you how much the people may be moved
By that which he will utter?
By your pardon: I will myself into the pulpit 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 true rites and lawful ceremonies. It shall advantage more than do us wrong. Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not. Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Cæsar's body. 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 pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended.
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 260
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 with the hands of war; All pity choked 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 With carrion men, groaning for burial.
You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not? Serv. I do, Mark Antony.
Ant. Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome. Serv. He did receive his letters, and is coming;
And bid me say to you by word of mouth
Ant. Thy heart is big; get thee apart and weep.
Passion, I see, is catching, for mine eyes,
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming?
Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome. Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octavius yet;
Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet stay awhile;
Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse
Into the market-place: there shall I try,
In my oration, how the people take The cruel issue of these bloody men ;
According to the which, thou shalt discourse To young Octavius of the state of things. Lend me your hand.
[Exeunt with Cæsar's body.
Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of Citizens.
Citizens. We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied. Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience, friends. Cassius, go you into the other street,
Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; And public reasons shall be rendered
I will hear Brutus speak.
Sec. Cit. I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons, When severally we hear them rendered.
[Exit Cassius, with some of the Citizens. Brutus goes into the pulpit.
Third Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!
Bru. Be patient till 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' love to Cæsar was no less than 20 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 freemen? 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 is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and 30 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
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