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 you, 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.

1

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 see we do; yet see you but our hands, And this the bleeding business they have done : 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, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony: Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts, Of brothers' temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.1 Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's, In the disposing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeased

The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
And then we will deliver you the cause,

Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck 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 Cassius, do I take your hand:
Now, Decius Brutus, yours;-now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna;-and, my valiant Casca, yours ;-
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.

Gentlemen all,-alas! what shall I say?

My credit now stands on such slippery ground,

That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.-

That I did love thee, Cæsar, O, 'tis true :

If then thy spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most noble! in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better, than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius! - Here wast thou bayed, brave hart,
Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,
Signed in thy spoil, and crimsoned in thy lethe.1
O world! thou wast the forest to this hart;

And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.-
How like a deer, stricken by many princes,

Dost thou here lie!

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 pricked in number of our friends; Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was, indeed, Swayed from the point, by looking down on Cæsar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all;

2

:

Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons,
Why, and wherein, Cæsar was dangerous.

Bru. Or else were this a savage spectacle:
Our reasons are so full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar,

You should be satisfied.

Ant.

That's all I seek;

And am moreover suitor, that I may
Produce his body to the market-place;

And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,

Speak in the order of his funeral.

Bru. You shall, Mark Antony.

Cas.

Brutus, a word with you.

You know not what you do; do not consent, [Aside. That Antony speak in his funeral.

Know you how much the people may be moved

By that which he will utter?

Bru.

By your pardon ;

I will myself into the pulpit first,
And show the reason of our Cæsar's death:
What Antony shall speak, I will protest
He speaks by leave and by permission;
And that we are contented, Cæsar shall
Have all true rites, and lawful ceremonies.
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.1

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, -

2

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue!-
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile, when they behold
Their infants quartered with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds;
And 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 slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Enter a Servant.

You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not?

Serv. I do, Mark Antony.

Ant. Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome.
Serv. He did receive his letters, and is coming:

And bid me say to you by word of mouth,

[Seeing the body. Ant. Thy heart is big; get thee apart and weep. Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming?

Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome. Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him what hath

chanced.

Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
No Rome1 of safety for Octavius yet;
Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile :
Thou shalt not back, till I have borne this corse
Into the market-place; there shall I try,
In my oration, how the people take
The cruel issue of these bloody men;
According to the which, thou shalt discourse
To young Octavius of the state of things.
Lend me your hand. [Exeunt, with CÆSAR'S body.

SCENE II. The same. The Forum.

Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of Citizens.

Cit. We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience,

friends.

Cassius, go you into the other street,

And part the numbers.

Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here:
Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;

And public reasons shall be rendered

Of Cæsar's death.

1 Cit.

I will hear Brutus speak.

2 Cit. I will hear Cassius; and compare their

reasons,

When severally we hear them rendered.

[Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens ; BRUTUS goes into the rostrum.