Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
And after seem to chide them. This shall make
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall he call'd purgers, not murderers.


Cat. What mean you, Caesar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day.

Cces. Caesar shall forth: The things that threaten'd me,
Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see
The face of Caesar, they are vanished.

Gal. Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me. There is one within,
Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead:
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
In ranks and squadrons, and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the capitol:
The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan;
And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.
O Caesar! these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.

Cces. What can be avoided
Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
Yet Caesar shall go forth: for these predictions
Are to the world in general, as to Caesar.

Gal. When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Cces. Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.


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 Caesar 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, Cuius Cassius, do I take your hand;—
Now, Decius Brutus, yours;—now yours, Metellus;
Yours, China;—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, Caesar, O, 't is 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 bay'd, brave heart;
Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.
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!


Bru. What now, Lucilius? is Cassius near? Luc. He is at hand; and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his master.

[Pindarus gives a letter to Brutus. Bru. He greets me well.—Your master, Pindarus,

In his own charge, or by ill officers,
Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
Things done, undone: but if he be at hand,
I shall be satisfied.

Pin. I do not doubt,
But that my noble master will appear
Such as he is, full of regard and honour.

Bru. He is not doubted.—A word, Lucilius:
How he received you, let me be resolv'd.

Luc. With courtesy, and with respect enough;
But not with such familiar instances,
Nor with such free and friendly conference,
As he hath used of old.

Bru. Thou hast describ'd
A hot friend cooling: Ever note, Lucilius,
When love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony.
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith:
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle:
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the trial.


Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?

Gas. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reason?

Cas. This it is:
' T is better, that the enemy seek us:
So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.
The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground,
Do stand but in a forc'd affection;
For they have grudg'd us contribution:
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encourag'd;
From which advantage shall we cut him off,

If at Philippi we do face him there,
These people at our back.

Cas. Hear me, good brother.

Brti. Under your pardon.—You must note beside,
That we have tried the utmost of our friends,
Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe:
The enemy increaseth every day;
We, at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.



Cleo. O Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men.—He's speaking now, Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile V For so he calls me; Now I feed myself With most delicious poison :—Think on me, That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cassar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With his looking on his life.


Antony. All is lost;
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:

My fleet have yielded to the foe; and yonder

They cast their caps up, and carouse together

Like friends long lost.—Triple-turn'd whore! 't is thou

Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart

Makes only wars on thee.—Bid them all fly;

For when I am revenged upon my charm,

I have done all;—Bid them all fly, begone. [Exit Scams.

O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:

Fortune and Antony part here; even here

Do we shake hands.—All come to this ?—The hearts

That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave

Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets,

On blossoming Cassar; and this pine is bark'd

That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:

0 this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,

Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end;
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.


Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st me?

Eros. Ay, noble lord.

Ant. Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish; A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these signs; They are black vesper s pageants.

Eros. Ay, my lord.

Ant. That which is now a horse, even with a thought, The rack dislimns; and makes it indistinct, As water is in water.

Eros. It does, my lord.

Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is
Even such a body: here I am Antony;
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.

1 made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,—
Whose heart, I thought, I had, for she had mine;
Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't
A million more, now lost,—she, Eros, has
Pack'd cards with Csesar, and false play'd my glory

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