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And my integrity to heaven, is all
I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, He would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies!

Crom. Good sir, have patience.

So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court. My hopes in heaven do dwell.


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 father 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 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's here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak! for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak! for him have I offended.-I pause for a reply.

None? Then none have I offended! I have done no more to Cæsar, than you should 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.

*These two speeches of Brutus and Mark Antony-form a splendid contrast. The speech of Brutus is in the set, ceremonious style of an accomplished but somewhat pedantic orator, and is crammed full of antitheses. He thinks he can find his way into men's hearts by pompous and well-rounded sentences. Mark Antony takes the very opposite tack. He talks like a friend to friends-like an easy well-mannered man of the world to his acquaintances, and then gradually works himself up, along with his audience, to the highest excitement, and concludes with a heart-shaking appeal of the finest eloquence.



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.

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FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen ! lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them ;
The good is oft interrëd with their bones:
So let it be with Cæsar! The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it!
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man ;
So are they al—all honourable men ;)
Come I to speak in Cæsar'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 Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar 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 Cæsar;
And I must pause till it come back to me.
But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

O masters! if I were disposed 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 Cæsar:
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 dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins 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!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle! I remember The first time ever Cæsar 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 stabbed;
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it!
As rushing out of doors to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.
Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all:
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquished him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue
(Which all the while ran blood) great Cæsar fell.
Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.
Oh, 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 Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here!
Here is himself-marred, as you see, by traitors!

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 reason answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I 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 your sweet Cæsar'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 Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny!




The quarrel between Brutus and Cassius-the two leaders of the Republican party in Rome during the time of Julius Cæsar-arose from a charge of bribery made by Brutus. The quarrel ends in a reconciliation.

Cas. That you have wronged me doth appear in this—
You have condemned and noted1 Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians 2;
Wherein my letters (praying on his side,
Because I knew the man) were slighted of.

Bru. You wronged yourself to write in such a case.
Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment.

Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching3 palm;
To sell and mart your offices for gold,

To undeservers.


I an itching palm!

You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last!

Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cas. Chastisement!

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March, remember!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touched his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What! shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours,
For so much trash as may be graspëd thus"?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

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Bru. I say, you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more. I shall forget myself—
Have mind upon your health -tempt me no farther!
Bru. Away, slight man!
Cas. Is't possible?

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas. O gods! ye gods! must I endure all this ?

Bru. All this? ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break. Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.


Is it come to this? Bru. You say you are a better soldier; Let it appear so: make your vaunting true,

And it shall please me well. For mine own part,

I shall be glad to learn of noble 7 men.

Cas. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Brutus; I said an elder soldier, not a better;

Did I say better?


If you did, I care not.

Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.
Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him.
Cas. I durst not?

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