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that will not love his country? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

CITIZENS. None, Brutus, none.

BRUTUS. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes his body, mourn'd by Mark Antony: who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall not ? With this I depart : that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

Antony's Oration over Cæsar's Body. 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 answer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest (For Brutus is an honourable man; So they are all, all honourable men), Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill :

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious ?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept ;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff ;
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ?
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ;,
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause ;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason !-Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it comes back to me.

But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world : now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters ! if I were disposed 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 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.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle : I remember
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 resolved ;
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd or no:
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all :
For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's 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 statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourished 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

* Impression.

Our Cæsar's vesture wounded ? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, by traitors.

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 Cæsar'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 Cæsar's, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny,

Act IV.
Ceremonious Courtesy insincere.
Ever note, Lucillus,
When love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony.
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith :

* Wrongs.

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 Quarrel Scene between Brutus and Cassius. Cassius. That you have wronged 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. Brutus. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a

CASSIUs. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice* offence should bear his comment.

Brutus. 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.

I an itching palm?
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Brutus. The name of Cassius honours this corrup-

And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

Cassius. Chastisement !
BRUTUS. Remember March, the ides of March re-

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,

* Every trivial matter.

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