You see we do; yet see you but our hands, Hath done this deed on Cæsar. For your part, With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him, Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand: First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you :— Now, Decius Brutus, yours;-now yours, Metellus ; 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; It would become me better, than to close 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 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, Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons, Our reasons are so full of good regard, 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, [Aside. That Antony speak in his funeral: Know you how much the people may be mov'd Bru. By your pardon; I will myself into the pulpit first, Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not. 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 tide1 of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! 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 All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds: 1 Enter a Servant. You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not? Ant. Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome. And bid me say to you by word of mouth,— O Cæsar! [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 chanc'd: Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay a while; 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 CESAR's body. A word formerly used in military operations, importing that no quarter should be given. 2 Fire, sword, and famine. 3 A play upon the word as pronounced in Shakspeare's time. [J. CES. 44] SCENE II.-The same. The Forum. Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of Citizens. Cit. We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied. [friends. Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience, Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here; Of Cæsar's death. 1 Cit. I will hear Brutus speak. 2 Cit. I will hear Cassius; and compare their reaWhen severally we hear them rendered. [sons, [Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens. BRUTUS goes into the rostrum. 3 Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended: Silence! Bru. Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear: believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer,-Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him: There are tears, for his love; joy, for his fortune; honour, for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a [J. Cæs. 45] |