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But yesterday, the word of Cesar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor* to do him reverence.
O masters! if I were dispos'd to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar,
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 dear Cesar's wounds,
And dip their napkinst 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.

4 Cit. We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony. Cit. The will, the will; we will hear Cesar's will. Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;

It is not meet you know how Cesar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;.
And, being men, hearing the will of Cesar,
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!
4 Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony;
You shall read us the will: Cesar's will.

Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay a while? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it,

I fear, I wrong the honourable men,

Whose daggers have stabb'd Cesar: I do fear it. 4 Cit. They were traitors: Honourable men! Cit. The will! the testament!

* The meanest man is now too high to do reverence to Cesar. † Handkerchiefs.

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 Cesar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? Ånd will you give me leave? Cit. Come down.

2 Cit. Descend. [He comes down from the pulpit.

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Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Cesar 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 Cesar 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 Cesar's angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cesar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all:

For when the noble Cesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,*
Which all the while ran blood, great Cesar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.†
O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold
Our Cesar's vesture wounded? Look
you here,
Here is himself, marr'd as you see with traitors.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle!

* Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers.
† Was successful.
+ Impression.


2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about,seek,-burn,-fire,-kill,-slay!-let not a traitor


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 honourable,
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, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;

I tell you that, which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb


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 Cesar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.



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.

* Grievances.


Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth 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 case.
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,
To sell and mart your offices for gold,

To undeservers.

Cas. I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement!

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; shall we now,
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes?
And sell the mighty space of our large honours,
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?-
I had rather be a dog, and bayt the moon,
Than such a Roman.


Brutus, bay not me,
I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
To hedge me in;t I am a soldier, I
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.§


Go to; you're not, Cassius.

Cas. I am.


† Bait, bark at.

Limit my authority.

§ Terms, fit to confer the offices at my disposal.

Bru. I say you are not.

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?


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
Under 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.


Is it come to this? Bru. You say, you are a better soldier:

Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,

And it shall please me well: For mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me,

I said, an elder soldier, not a better:

Did I


say, better?

If you did, I care not.

Cas. When Cesar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me.

Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not thus have tempt

ed him.

Cas. I durst not?

Bru. No.

Cas. What? durst not tempt him?


For your life you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love,

I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats:

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