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Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure?-Fare thee well.

ANTONY'S SPEECH TO THE CONSPIRATORS.

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:* If I myself, there is no hour so fit

As Cesar'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 Cesar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirits of this age.

REVENGE.

Cesar'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.

BRUTUS'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE.

If there be any in this assembly, any dear frien of Cesar's; to him I say, that Brutus's love to Cesar was no 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 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 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 * Grown too high for the public safety.

†The signal for giving no quarter.

To let slip a dog at a deer, &c. was the technical phrase of Shakspeare's time.

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.

ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
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. The noble Brutus

Hath told you, Cesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cesar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men;)
Come I to speak in Cesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says, he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Cesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable 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 honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know,
You all did love him once, not without cause;

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason!-Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

But yesterday, the word of Cesar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor* to do him reverence.
O masters! if I were dispos'd to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar,
I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:

Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,)
And they would go and kiss dear Cesar's wounds,
And dip their napkinst in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,

Unto their issue.

4 Cit. We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony. Cit. The will, the will; we will hear Cesar's will. Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;

It is not meet you know how Cesar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cesar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
4 Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony;
You shall read us the will: Cesar's will.

Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay a while? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it,

I fear, I wrong the honourable men,'

Whose daggers have stabb'd Cesar: I do fear it. 4 Cit. They were traitors: Honourable men! Cit. The will! the testament!

* The meanest man is now too high to do reverence to Cesar. † Handkerchiefs.

2 Cit. They were villains, murderers: The will! Read the will!

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Cesar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? Cit. Come down.

2 Cit. Descend. [He comes down from the pulpit.

*

*

*

Ant. 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;
That day he overcame the Nervii:-

Look: in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through;
See, what a rent the envious Casca made!
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cesar follow'd it;
As rushing out of doors to be resolv'd
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cesar's angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cesar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all:
For when the noble Cesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statua,*
Which all the while ran blood, great Cesar fell..
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.†
O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold
Our Cesar's vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr'd as you see with traitors.
1. Cit. O piteous spectacle!

* Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers
Was successful.
+ Impression.

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2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about,seek,—burn,—fire,—kill,—slay!-let not a traitor

live.

Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up

To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

They, that have done this deed, are honourable;
What private griefs* they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it, they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
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
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;

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 I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cesar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

ACT IV.

CEREMONY INSINCERE.

Ever note, Lucilius,

When love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony.

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith:
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,

Make gallant show and promise of their mettle:
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the trial.

* Grievances.

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