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He draws Mark Antony out of his way.

[Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS. Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar.

Bru. He is address'd; press near and second him. Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. Cæs. Are we all ready?what is now amiss, That Cæsar and his senate must redress?

Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant

Cæsar,

Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
An humble heart.

[Kneeling.

Cæs. I must prevent thee, Cimber;
These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
Into the law of children. Be not fond,
To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood,
That will be thaw'd from the true quality

With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words;
Low crooked courtsies, and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished;

If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
I thee like a cur out of my way.

spurn

Know, Cæsar doth not wrong, nor without cause
Will he be satisfied.

Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own,
To sound more sweetly in great Cæsar's ear,
For the repealing of my banish'd brother?

Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæsar; Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may

Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Cas, What, Brutus !

Cas. Pardon, Cæsar; Cæsar, pardon;
As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

Cas. I could be well moved, if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:

But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true fix'd and resting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament:

They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
Let me a little show it, even in this ;

That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,
And constant do remain to keep him so.

Cin. O Cæsar

Cæs. Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus ?
Dec. Great Cæsar-

Cæs. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

Casca. Speak, hands, for me. [They stab CESAR.

Cas. Then fall, Cæsar!

Bru. Liberty! freedom!

[Dies.

-tyranny is dead

Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streetsCas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!

Bru. People, and senators! be not affrighted; Fly not, stand still. Ambition's debt is paid.

Enter TREBONIUS.

Cas. Where is Antony?

Tre. Fled to his house amazed.

Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run, As it were doomsday.

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. Cas. Why, he, that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit.
So are we Cæsar's friends, that have abridged
His time of fearing death.

Now walk we forth, e'en to the market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, Peace! freedom and liberty!
Dec. What shall we forth?

Cas. Ay, every man away.

Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels,
With the most boldest, and best hearts of Rome.

Enter a SERVANT.

V

Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's.
Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; [Kneeling.
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say.
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
Cæsar was mighty, royal, bold, and loving:
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;
Say, I fear'd Cæsar, honour'd him, and loved him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony
May safely come to him, and be resolved
How Cæsar hath deserved to lie in death:
Mark Antony shall not love Cæsar 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 says my master, Antony.
Bry. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman;
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be satisfied; and, by mine honour,

Depart untouch'd.

Serv. I'll fetch him presently.

[Exit SERVANT.

Bru. I know, that we shall have him well to friend.
Cas. I wish we may: but yet I have a mind,
That fears him much.

Enter ANTONY.

Bru. But here he comes. Welcome, Mark Antony!
Ant. O mighty Cæsar, dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
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 myself, there is no hour so fit,

As Cæsar's death's hour; nor no instrument

Of half that worth, as those your swords, made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die :

No place will please me so, no mean of death,
As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master-spirits 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 see we do; yet see you but our hands,
Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful;
And pity for the general wrong of Rome,
Hath done this deed on Cæsar: for your part,
To you our
swords have leaden points, Mark Antony;
And our hearts, of brothers' temper, do receive you in,
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's,
In the disposing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient till we have appeased
The multitude, beside themselves with fear;
And then we will deliver
you the cause,

Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him,
Proceeded thus.

Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.

Let each man render me his bloody hand;
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all -alas! what shall I say?

My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward, or a flatterer.

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That I did love thee Cæsar, oh, 'tis true.
If then thy spirit look upon us now,

Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most noble ! in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes, as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better, than to close

In terms of friendship with thine enemies.

Pardon me, Julius-here wast thou bay'd, good hart:

Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand,
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy death.
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,

Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Cæsar.
Friends am I with you all, and love you all;
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons,
Why, and wherein Cæsar was dangerous.

Bru. Or else this were a savage spectacle.

Our reasons are so full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar,
You should be satisfied.

Ant. That's all I seek;

And am moreover suitor, that I may
Produce his body in the market-place,
And in the rostrum, as becomes a friend,
Speak in the order of his funeral.

Bru. You shall, Mark Antony.

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