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'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 a while? I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it.
. 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!
Ant. You will compel me then 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.
Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them You all do know this mantle: I remember [now. 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 resolv'd If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel. Judge, O 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,
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 you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 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 honourAnd will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. [able, I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; I am no orator, as Brutus is: But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love
friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action nor utterance, nor the power
of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
* Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers. + Was successful. * Impression. § Grievances.
I tell you that, which you yourselves do know ; Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor
dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every
wound of Cæsar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
CEREMONY INSINCERE. 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.
THE TENT SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. Cas. That you have wrong'd me,
appear in this : You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off.
Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a
Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet That every nice* offence should bear his comment. Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
I an itching palm?
Brú. The name of Cassius honours this corrupAnd chastisement doth therefore hide his head. [tion,
Brutus, bay not me,
Go to; you're not, Cassius.
Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.
Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? * Bait, bark at.
+ Limit my authority. Terms, fit to confer the offices at my disposal.
Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? Cas. O ye gods ! ye gods! Must I endure all
this? Bru. All this ? ay, more: Fret, till your proud
heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Uunder your testy humour ? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you: for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. Cas.
Is it come to this?
If you did, I care not. Cas. When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have
mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempt
durst not. Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love, I may
do that I shall be sorry for.