4 Cit. A ring; stand round.

1 Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

2 Cit. Room for Antony;-most noble Antony. Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

Cit. Stand back! room! bear back!

Ant. 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 stabb'd;
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar 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 Cæsar's angel:2
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all:

For when the noble Cæsar 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,3 great Cæsar 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.

2 For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:] This title of endearment is more than once introduced in Sidney's Arcadia.

3 Which all the while ran blood,] The image seems to be, that the blood of Cæsar flew upon the statue, and trickled down it. The dint of pity:] is the impression of pity.

Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle!

2 Cit. O noble Cæsar!

3 Cit. O woful day!

4 Cit. O traitors, villains!

1 Cit. O most bloody sight!

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

live.

Ant. Stay, countrymen.

1 Cit. Peace there:-Hear the noble Antony. 2 Cit. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.

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;
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 publick 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 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.
Cit. We'll mutiny.

1 Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus.

3 Cit. Away then, come, seek the conspirators. Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

Cit. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble An

tony.

Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you

what:

know not

Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserv'd your loves?
Alas, you know not:-I must tell you then :-
You have forgot the will I told you of.

Cit. Most true;-the will;-let's stay, and hear the will.

Ant. Here is the will, and under Cæsar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives,

To every several man, seventy-five drachmas."

2 Cit. Most noble Cæsar!-we'll revenge his death.

3 Cit. O royal Cæsar!

Ant. Hear me with patience.

Cit. Peace, ho!

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tyber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæsar: When comes such another?
1 Cit. Never, never:-Come, away, away:
We'll burn his body in the holy place,
And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
Take up the body.

2 Cit. Go, fetch fire.

seventy-five drachmas.] A drachma was a Greek coin, the same as the Roman denier, of the value of four sesterces, 7d. ob.

3 Cit. Pluck down benches.

4 Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing. [Exeunt Citizens, with the Body. Ant. Now let it work; Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!-How now, fellow?

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.
Ant. Where is he?

Serv. He and Lepidus are at Cæsar's house.
Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him:
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will give us any thing.

Serv. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. Ant. Belike, they had some notice of the people, How I had mov'd them. Bring me to Octavius. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The same. A Street.

Enter CINNA, the Poet.

Cin. I dreamt to-night, that I did feast with
Cæsar,

And things unluckily charge my fantasy:
I have no will to wander forth of doors,
Yet something leads me forth.

6 things unluckily charge my fantasy:] i. e. circumstances oppress my fancy with an ill-omened weight.

2 Cit. Whither are you going?

3 Cit. Where do you dwell?

4 Cit. Are you a married man, or a bachelor? 2 Cit. Answer every man directly.

1 Cit. Ay, and briefly.

4 Cit. Ay, and wisely.

3 Cit. Ay, and truly, you were best.

Cin. What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a bachelor? Then to answer every man directly, and briefly, wisely, and truly. Wisely I say, I am a bachelor.

2 Cit. That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry: You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly.

Cin. Directly, I am going to Cæsar's funeral. 1 Cit. As a friend, or an enemy?

Cin. As a friend.

2 Cit. That matter is answered directly.
4 Cit. For your dwelling,-briefly.

Cin. Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.
3 Cit. Your name, sir, truly.
Cin. Truly, my name is Cinna.

1 Cit. Tear him to pieces, he's a conspirator. Cin. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. 4 Cit. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.

2 Cit. It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going. 3 Cit. Tear him, tear him. Come, brands, ho! fire-brands. To Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all. Some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away; go.

[Exeunt.