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O MIGHTY Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumpbs, 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 Cæsar'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 Cæsar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age.

* Growo too high for the public safety.



Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Até by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry Havoc*, and let slipt the dogs of war.

BRUTUS'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' 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

Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men? 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 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 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.

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 interred 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 answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
* The signal for giving no quarter.

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

(For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, 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 inany 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 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 Cæsar,

The meanest man is now too high to do reverence to Cæsar.

I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:
Let but the commons bear 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.

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

read it; It is not meet you know how Cæsar lov'd you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For, if you should, 0, what would come of it!

4 Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony; You shall read us the will: Cæsar's will.

Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile ? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it. I fear, I wrong the honourable men, Whose daggers have stabb'd Cæsar: I do fear it.

4 Cit. They were traitors: Honourable men! Cit. The will! the testament!

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

nt. You will compel me hen to read the will? · Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar, 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.

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Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember

* Handkerchiefs.

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 resolvid
If Brutas so unkindly knock’d, or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.
Judge, 0 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, great Cæsar fell.
0, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us to
0, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint f 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, marr'd as you see, with traitors.

1 Cit. O piteous spectacle!


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 To such a sudden flood of mutiny. (you up 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,

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

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