Think of this life; but, for my single self

I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar; so were
you:

We both have fed as well; and we can both

Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.

For once upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Cæsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plungèd in, And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews; throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of controversy.

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink."

I, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend

his body,

If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain;

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake:

His coward lips did from their color fly;

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,

Did lose his lustre; I did hear him groan:

Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans

Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,

Alas! it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius,"

To find ourselves dishonorable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates;

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Cæsar: What should be in that Cæsar?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them,

Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.

Now in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Cæ

ANTONY OVER THE DEAD BODY OF CÆSAR.

Antony.

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 answered it.

Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,

(For Brutus is an honorable man;
So are they all, all honorable men ;)
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just

But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar,

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

Citizen. We'll hear the will; Read it, Mark Antony. Citizen. The will, the will; we will hear Cæsar's will. Antony. - Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Cæsar loved 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, O, what would come of it!

Cit.

Read the will; we will hear it, Antony,

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up

To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable;

What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,

That made them do it; they are wise and honorable,

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

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 my 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, power of speech,

nor the

To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;

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,

Dauphin. Your grace shall par-
don me, I will not back;

I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a secondary at control,
Or useful serving-man and instru-
ment,

To any sovereign state throughout the world.

Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars,

Between this chástised kingdom and myself,

And brought in matter that should feed this fire;

And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out

With that same weak wind which enkindled it.

You taught me how to know the face of right,

Acquainted me with interest to this land,

Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;

And come you now to tell me, John

hath made

His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?

I, by the honor of my marriage-bed, After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;

And, now it is half conquered, must I back,

Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?

Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, What men provided, what munition sent,

To underprop this action? Is't not I, That undergo this charge? Who else but I,

And such as to my claim are liable, Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?

Have I not heard these islanders shout out,

Vive le roy! as I have banked their towns?

Have I not here the best cards for the game,

To win this easy match played for a crown?

And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?

No, on my soul, it never shall be said.

Outside or inside, I will not re

turn

Till my attempt so much be glorified

As to my ample hope was promisèd Before I drew this gallant head of

war,