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Caf. Are we all ready? What is now amiís, That Cefar and his Senate muft redrefs?

Met. Moft high, moft mighty, and most puiffant Cefar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy Seat An humble Heart.

[Kneeling,

Caf. I must prevent thee, Cimber;
Thefe Couchings, and thefe lowly Curtfies
Might fire the Blood of ordinary Men,
And turn Pre-Ordinance, and firft Decree,
Into the lane of Children. Be not fond,
To think, that Cafar bears fuch Rebel Blood,
That will be thaw'd from the true Quality,
With that which melteth Fools; I mean fweet Words,
Low-crooked-curtfies, and bafe Spaniel Fawning.
Thy Brother by Decree is banished;

If thou doft bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
I fpurn thee like a Cur out of my way.

Know, Cafar doth not wrong, nor without Cause
Will he be fatisfied.

Met. Is there no Voice more worthy than my own,
To found more fweeely in great Cafar's Ear,
For the repealing of my banish'd Brother?
Bru. Ikifs thy Hand, but not in flattery, Cafar;
Defiring thee, that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate Freedom of Repeal.
Caf. What Brutus!-

Caf. Pardon, Cafar, Cafar, Pardon;

As low as to thy Foot doth Caffius fall,
To beg Enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

Caf. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you;

If I could pray to move, Prayers would move me:
But I am conftant as the Northern Star,
Of whofe true, fixt, and refting Quality,
There is no fellow in the Firmament;
The Skies are painted with unnumbred fparks,
They are all Fire, and every one doth fhine,
But there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So, in the World, 'tis furnifh'd well with Men,
And Men are Flesh and Blood, and apprehenfive;
Yet in the number, I do know but one
That unaffailable holds on his Rank,

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Unfhak'd

Unfhak'd of Motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little fhew it, even in this;

That I was conftant Cimber fhould be banish'd,
And conftant do remain to keep him fo.

Cim. O Gafar

Caf. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Dec. Great Cafar

Caf. Do not, Brutus, bootlefs kneel.
Cask. Speak Hands for me.

Caf. Et tu BruteThen fall Cafar.

[They Stab Cæfar

Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is deadRun hence, proclaim, cry it about the StreetsCaf. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, Freedom, and Enfranchisement.

Bru. People and Senators, be not affrighted; Fly not, ftand ftill, Ambition's Debt is paid. Cask. Go to the Pulpit, Brutus.

Dec. And Caffius too.

Bru. Where's Publius?

Cin. Here, quite confounded with this Mutiny.
Met. Stand faft together, left fome Friend of Cafar's
Should chance-

Bru. Talk not of ftanding. Publius, good Cheer,
There is no harm intended to your Perfon,
Nor to no Roman elle; fo tell them, Publius.

Caf. And leave us, Publius, left that the People.
Rufhing on us, fhould do your Age fome Mifchief.
Bru. Do fo, and let no Man abide this Deed,
But we the Doers.

Enter Trebonius.

Caf. Where is Antony?

Tre. Fled to his Houfe amaz❜d,

Men, Wives, and Children, ftare, cry out, and run,
As it were Dooms-day,"

Bru. Fates, we will know your Pleafures;
That we fhall die, we know; 'tis but the time
And drawing Days out, that Men ftand upon.

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Cask. Why he that cuts off twenty Years of Life, Cuts off fo many Years of fearing Death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is Death a' Benefit, So are we Cafar's Friends, that have abridg'd

His

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His time of fearing Death. Stoop Romans, stoop, $10
And let us bathe our Hands in Cafar's Blood,
Up to the Elbows, and befmear our Swords;
Then walk we forth even to the Market-place, if

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And waving our red Weapons o'er our Heads,st sad"T" Let's all cry Peace! Freedom! and Liberty!

Caf. Stoop then, and wash-How many Ages hemoe [Dipping their Swords in Cæfar's Blood.

Shall this our lofty Scene be acted over,

In States unborn, and Accents yet unknown? 4, 5,
Bru. How many times thall Cafar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's Bafis lyes along,

No worthier than the Duft?

Caf. So oft as that thall be,

So often fhall the Knot of us be call'd,
The Men that gave their Country Liberty.
Dec. What, what fhall we forth?

Caf. Ay, every Man away.

1

Brutus fhall lead, and we will grace his Heels
With the moft bold, and the beft Hearts of Rome.
Enter a Servant.

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[Kneeling.

Bru. Soft, who comes here? a Friend of Antony's.
Ser. Thus, Brutus, did my Mafter bid me Kneel;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down,
And being proftrate, thus he bad me say,
Brutus is Noble, Wife, Valiant and Honeft;
Cafar was Mighty, Bold, Royal and Lovings
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I fear'd Cafar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchfafe, that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cafar hath deferv'd to lye in Death,
Mark Antony fhall not love Cafar dead
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The Fortunes and Affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod State,
With all true Faith. So fays my Mafter Antony.
Bru. Thy Mafter is a wife and valiant Roman,
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, fo please him come unto this place,
He shall be fatisfied, and by my Honour

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Depart

Depart untouch'd.

Ser. I'll fetch him prefently.

[Exit Servant.

Bru. I know that we shall have him well to Friend.
Caf. I with we may; but yet have I a mind a
That fears him much; and my mifgiving fill
Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

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with Enter Antony.

Bru. But here comes Antony; Welcome Mark Antony,

Ant. O mighty Cafar! doft thou lye fo low? Are all thy Conquefts, Glories, Triumphs, Spoils, Shrunk to this little Meafure Fare thee well..

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I know not, Gentlemen, what you intend,
Who elfe must be let blood, who elfe is rank;
If I my self, there is no Hour fo fit 3

As Cafar's Deaths Hour; nor no Inftrument
Of half that worth, as thofe your Swords, made rich
With the moft noble Blood of all this World.
I do befeech ye, if you bear me hard,s

Now, whilft your purpled Hands do reek and fmoak,
Fulfil your Pleafure. Live a thousand Years,
I fhall not find my self so apt to die:
No place will please me fo, no mean of Death,
As here by Cafar, and by you cut off,
The Choice and Mafter Spirits of this Age,
Bru. O Antony! Beg not your Death of us:
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our Hands, and this our present Act,
You fee we do; yet see you but our Hands,
And this, the bleeding Bufinefs they have done.
Our Hearts you fee not, they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome,
As Fire drives out Fire, fo Pity, Pity,

Hath done this deed on Cafar. For your part,

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To you,our Swords have leaden Points, Mark Antony,prel
Our Arms in ftrength of Malice, and our Hearts & n
Of Brothers temper, do receive you in,

With all kind Love, good Thoughts, and Reverence.
Caf. Your Voice fhall be as ftrong as any Man's,
In the difpofing of new Dignities,

Bru. Only be patient till we have appeas'd

The

The Multitude, befide themselves with fear,
And then we will deliver you the Caufe,
Why I, that did love Cafar when I ftrook him,
Have thus proceeded.

Ant. I doubt not of your Wisdom.

Let each Man render me his bloody Hand;
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Caffius, do I take your Hand;
Now Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and my valiant Caska, yours;
Though laft, not leaft in love, yours, good Trebonius;
Gentlemen all-alas, what shall I fay,

My Credit now ftands on fuch flippery Ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a Coward, or a Flatterer.

That I did love thee, Cafar, O 'tis true;
If then thy Spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy Death,
To fee thy Antony making his Peace,
Shaking the bloody Fingers of thy Foes,
Most Noble! in the prefence of thy Coarfe?
Had I as many Eyes, as thou haft Wounds,
Weeping as fast as they ftream forth thy Blood,
It would become me better, than to close
In terms of Friendship with thine Enemies.

Pardon me, Julius-here waft thou bay'd, brave Hart,
Here didft thou fall, and here thy Hunters ftand
Sing'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy Lethe.
O World! thou waft the Foreft to this Hart,
And this indeed, O World, the Hart of thee.
How like a Deer, ftricken by many Princes,
Doft thou here lye?

Caf. Mark Antony

Ant. Pardon me, Caius Caffius;

The Enemies of Cafar fhall fay this:
Then, in a Friend, it is cold Modesty.

Caf. I blame you not for praifing Cafar fo
But what compact mean you to have with us?
Will you be prick'd in number of our Friends,
Or fhall we on; and not depend on you?

Art. Therefore I took your Hands, but was indeed

Sway'd

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