Cuts off so many years of fearing death. Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit: So are we Cæsar's friends, that have abridg'd His time of fearing death.-Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Cæsar's blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords : Then walk we forth, even to the market-place; And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry, Peace! Freedom! and Liberty! Cas. Stoop then, and wash*. How many ages hence, Shall this our lofty scene be acted over, In states unborn, and accents yet unknown? Bru. How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey's basis lies along, No worthier than the dust ? Cas. So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be call'd Cas. Enter a Servant. Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. Say, I fear'd Cæsar, honour'd him, and lov'd him. Thorough the hazards of this untrod state, Tell him, so please him come unto this place, Serv. I'll fetch him presently. [Exit Servant. Bru. I know, that we shall have him well to friend. Cas. I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind, That fears him much; and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose. Re-enter Antony. Bru. But here comes Antony.-Welcome, Mark Antony. Ant. O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure?-Fare thee well.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, No place will please me so, no mean of death, Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful; And pity to the general wrong of Rome (As fire drives out fire, so pity, pity,) Hath done this deed on Cæsar. For your part, Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts, With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd wisdom. Ant. My credit now stands on such slippery ground, That I did love thee, Cæsar, O, 'tis true: Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death, hart; Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand, Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe. And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.- O world! thou wast the forest to this hart; Cas. Mark Antony, Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius: The enemies of Cæsar shall say this; Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. Cas. I blame you not for praising Cæsar so; But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prick'd in number of our friends; Or shall we on, and not depend on you? Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was, indeed, Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cæsar. Ant. That's all I seek: And am moreover suitor, that I may Brutus, a word with you. You know not what you do; Do not consent, That Antony speak in his funeral: [Aside. Know you how much the people may be mov❜d Bru. By your pardon ; I will myself into the pulpit first, It shall advantage more, than do us wrong. Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not. Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Cæsar's body. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, But speak all good you can devise of Cæsar And say, you do't by our permission; Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral: and you shall speak In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended. Ant. I do desire no more. Be it so ; Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us. [Exeunt all but Antony. Ant. O, pardon me, thou piece of bleeding earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man, That ever lived in the tide* of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Which like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, Blood and destruction shall be so in use, That mothers shall but smile, when they behold * Course. + The signal for giving no quarter. To let slip a dog at a deer, &c. was the technical phrase of Shakspeare's time. |