To think that Cæfar bears fuch rebel blood,
That will be thaw'd from the true quality
With that which melteth fools; I mean fweet words,
Low-crooked-curt'fies, and bafe spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished;
If thou doft bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
I fpurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Cæfar doth not wrong, nor without cause
Will he be fatisfied.
Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own,
To found more fweetly in great Cafar's ear,
For the repealing of my banish'd brother?
Bru. I kifs thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæfar;
Defiring thee, that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Caf. What, Brutus!
Caf. Pardon, Cafar, Cafar, pardon;
As low as to thy foot doth Caffius fall,
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
Caf. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you;
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am conftant as the northern ftar. *
Let me a little fhew it, even in this;
That I was conftant Cimber should be banish'd,
And conftant do remain to keep him fo.
Caf. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Dec. Great Cæfar —
Caf. Do not, Brutus, bootless kneel.
Cafe. Speak hands for me.
- northern ftar,
Of whofe true, fixt, and refting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament;
The skies are painted with unnumber'd fparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth fhine,
But there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So, in the world,'tis furnith'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehenfive;
Yet in the number, I do know but one
That unaffailable holds on his rank,
Unshak'd of motion: and that I am he,
Let me, &.
Caf. Et tu, Brute?-then fall Cæfar!
Cin. Liberty! freedom! Tyranny is dead-
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the ftreets-
Caf. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out,
Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement.
Bru. People and Senators! be not affrighted;
Fly not, ftand ftill. Ambition's debt is paid.
Cafc. Go to the pulpit, Brutus,
Dec. And Caffius too.
Bru. Where's Publius?
Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.
Met. Stand faft together, left fome friend of Cæfar's
Bru. Talk not of ftanding. Publius, good cheer;
There is no harm intended to your perfon,
Nor to no Roman elfe; fo tell them, Publius.
Caf. And leave us, Publius, left that the people
Rufhing on us, fhould do your age fome mifchief.
Bru. Do fo, and let no man abide this deed,
But we the doers.
SCENE II.
Caf. Where's Antony?'
Treb. Fled to his houfe amaz'd.
Men, wives, and children, ftare, cry out, and run,
As it were dooms-day.
Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures;
That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.
Caf. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life,
Cuts off fo many years of fearing death.
Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit.
So are we Cafar's friends, that have abridg'd
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, ftoop,
And let us bathe our hands in Cafar's blood
Up to the elbows, and befmear our fwords;
Then walk we forth even to the market-place,
And waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, Peace! freedom! and liberty!
Caf. Stoop then, and wash how many ages hence
[Dipping their fwords in Cæfar's blood.
Shall this our lofty fcene be acted o'er,
In states unborn, and accents yet unknown!
Cafe. How many times fhall Cæfar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's bafis lyes along,
No worthier than the duft!
Bru. So oft as that shall be,
So often fhall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.
Dec. What, fhall we forth?
Caf. Ay, every man away.
Brutus fhall lead, and we will grace his heels
With the most bold, and the best hearts of Rome.
Enter a Servant.
Bru. Soft, who comes here?
Ser. A friend of Antony's.
Thus, Brutus, did my mafter bid me kneel;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down,
And being proftrate, thus he bad me fay.
Brutus is noble, wife, valiant and honeft;
Cafar was mighty, royal, bold and loving;
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;
Say, I fear'd Cæfar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchfafe that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cafar hath deferv'd to lye in death:
Mark Antony fhall not love Cæfar dead
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod state,
With all true faith. So fays my mafter Antony.
Bru. Thy mafter is a wife and valiant Roman,
I never thought him worse.
Tell him, fo please him come unto this place,
He fhall be fatisfied, and by my honour,
Depart untouch'd.
Ser. i'll fetch him prefently.
Bru. I know that we fhall have him well to friend.
Caf. I wifn we may: but yet have I a mind
That fears him much; and
Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.
Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. Ant. O mighty Cæfar! doft thou lye fo low? Are all thy conquefts, glories, triumphs, fpoils, Shrunk to this little measure? -fare thee well. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank; If I my felf, there is no hour fo fit
As Cafar's death's hour; nor no inftrument
Of half that worth as thofe your fwords, made rich
With the moft noble blood of all this world.
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,
Now whilft your purpled hands do reek and fmoak,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I fhall not find my self so apt to die :
No place will please me fo, no means of death,
As here by Cafar, and by you cut
off,
The choice and mafter fpirits of this age.
Bru. O Antony! beg not your death of us :
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands and this our present act,
You fee we do; yet fee you but our hands,
And this the bleeding bufinefs they have done :
Our hearts you fee not, they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome,
(As fire drives out fire, fo pity, pity)
Hath done this deed on Cafar. For your part,
To you our fwords have leaden points, Mark Antony;
Our arms exempt from malice, and our hearts
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Caf. Your voice shall be as ftrong as any man's
In the difpofing of new dignities.
Bru. Only be patient 'till we have appeas'd
The multitude, befide themselves with fear;
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cæfar when I ftrook him,
Proceeded thus.
Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand;
First, Marcus Brutus, will I fhake with you;
Next, Caius Caffius, do I take your hand;
Now, Decimus Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Cafca, yours;
Though laft, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all-alas, what fhall I say?
My credit now ftands on fuch flippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward, or a flatterer.
That I did love thee, Cafar, oh 'tis true;
If then thy fpirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,
To fee thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Moft noble! in the prefence of thy corfe?
Had I as many eyes as thou haft wounds,
Weeping as faft as they ftream forth thy blood,
It would become me better than to clofe
In terms of friendfhip with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius- here waft thou bay'd, brave hart,
Here dieft thou fall, and here thy hunters ftand
Sign's in thy fpoil, and crimson'd in thy death.*
Caf Mark Antony ·
Ant, Pardon me, Caius Caffius; The enemies of Cæfar fhall fay this: Then, in a friend, it is cold modefty.
Caf. I blame you not for praifing Cæfar lo,
But what compact mean you to have with us?
Will you be prick'd in number of our friends,
Or fhall we on, and not depend on you?
Ant. Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed
Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cæfar.
Friends am I with you all, and love
you all,
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons
O world! thou waft the foreft to this hart,
And this indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
How like a deer ftricken by many princes,
Doft thou here lye?
Caf. Mark Antony, &c.
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