Gives me fresh Sorrow: take my Tribute here
Of Sighs and Tears that always fhall attend thee.

I ask your pardon, Noble Lords; my Thoughts Were too much there, to look on aught befides. Yet think not I repent of what I faid;

For I will speak the Praises of my Friend,
Nor fear ev'n Heav'n, should it reply in Thunder,
He was my Friend, and I will ftill be his,
Tho' the Gods rage, and Mankind meanly joins ;
Who fhew regard to Heav'n in nothing else
But flighting Merit, when the Gods forfake it.
Yet I, of all fufpected, and alone,

Will boldly thus embrace this precious Body.

Nay, gaze not on me with fuch threatning Looks ; Think not, that if I valu'd now my Life,

I am fo foolish to expofe it thus.

What Hour fo fit for me, what Death fo glorious, As here to fall with CESAR, and by you,

The Mafter Spirits, fure, of all the World
Kill me then quickly; kill me with those Daggers
That reek in Blood of him I lov'd fo well:
For, could I languish out a thousand Years,
I ne'er fhould find my felf fo fit to die :
'Tis now a Pleasure, what may be a Pain.

BRUTUS.

Oh, ANTONY, be; not your Death of us.

You

You little think, when you commended Cæsar,
How much my foften'd Heart approy'd your Praise.
Rough tho' we feem, and tho' our Hands are
bloody,

Yet, ANTONY, you only fee our Hands,

Which, free as thofe of Juftice from all Rage,
Have done a Deed, fpite of our fofter Souls.
Your Friendship to dead CESAR we esteem,
And value yours the more: then join with us
To fettle Rome firm in its ancient Freedom;
And we will join with you to make you great;
As great as can confist with Liberty.

CASSIUS.

Your Voice fhall found as high as any Man's
In the Election of new Magiftrates.

BRUTUS,

Only be patient till you hear the Cause
Of all this feeming Cruelty. You know
CÆSAR us'd me as kindly as your felf.

Were I ambitious, or fought private Ends,

This, fure, was not the way,

Witness, you Gods!

None e'er who kill'd himself, lov'd him he flew

Better than I lov'd CÆSAR!

ANTONY.

Oh my Heart!

Hold

Hold up a while, and help me to diffemble! [Afide.
Give me your hands, I muft accept your Love,
Moft Noble BRUTUS; and yours, CAIUS CASSIUS.
Alas, my Credit ftands on flipp'ry ground;
And there's a Precipice on either fide.

To answer this your Gentleness with Rage,
(When you thus fpare me ev'n against my will)
That would appear but a too rough return:
Yet may not this too look like Fear, or Flatt'ry?
That I lov'd CESAR, I muft ever own;
That he lov'd me, his Favours fhew'd too well:
How fhall I do my part to him, and you?
Unless you will vouchsafe to give me Reasons
Why CESAR died; and let me bury him,
(As it becomes his Friend) with decent Honour :
Then I'll but steep his Ashes in my Tears,
And in his cold Urn fmother all my Sorrow.

BRUTUS.

Tis juft, we grant it, take his Body hence;
And I will join my self to do him honour.

CASSIUS.

Hold, BRUTUS firft confider well of that:

The eafy Rabble may be mov'd against us.

Who knows how Rhet'ric may prevail on Fools?

BRUTUS.

We need not, CASSIUS, be fo much concern'd;

Now

Now Rome's fecure, there's no fuch thing as Danger, "Twas CÆSAR's Soul we fear'd, and that once gone, We cannot use his harmless Corps too well.

CASSIUS.

But yet I fear the worst.

BRUTUS.

Befides I'll go,

And speak before him in the Market-place.
But ANTONY, your Praise must be so nice,
As not to blame our Action: you may fhew
Both Love to CÆSAR, and Efteem of us.

CASSIUS.

His Speech fhall be your Pattern; fo we leave you pay that Pity which you owe your Friend.

Το

[Exeunt all but ANTONY.

SCENE

VI.

ANTONY, who stands over the Body of CESAR alone,

ANTONY.

Pity indeed! but what a wretched Change,

That thou should'ft move it ! Thou, whofe wondrous

Soul

Was high as e'er Humanity attain'd ;

Yet

Yet gentle as the humbleft of Mankind.

[Enter fome Friends of ANTONY.

Thy vaft Ambition was but juft, and like

The Element of Fire when first created,

Which foar'd above the reft, to fhine more glorious,
And chear the under World with Light and Heat.
Thou ftill fhalt fhine a Comet, and portend
A black and bloody Scene of Civil War.

Thefe Wounds infpire me with prophetick Skill,
Which like dumb Mouths op'ning their bloody Lips,
Seem to entreat the utt'rance of my Tongue.

Now the whole World disturb'd, will mifs thee soon;
Men fhall bemoan their Mafter, beat their Breasts,
And lay upon thy Death all their Misfortunes.
Wars, Bloodthed, Maffacres, fuch horrid Deeds,
And fatal Fury, fhall be fo familiar,

That Cuftom fhall take off all Senfe of Crime,
And Shame and Guilt fhall be but Words forgot,
Loft in the boundlefs Licence of the Times.

Come, let us bear him to the Market-place.
This is a Jewel yet, tho' drop'd by Fortune;
With which we'll purchase Popularity,
And fet up for our felves in this new World.
Our Tears and Grief will foften their hard Hearts,

Fit