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    Complete Plays, The

    Page 24
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      Brutus

      How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,

      That now on Pompey’s basis lies along

      No worthier than the dust!

      Cassius

      So oft as that shall be,

      So often shall the knot of us be call’d

      The men that gave their country liberty.

      Decius Brutus

      What, shall we forth?

      Cassius

      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

      Brutus

      Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony’s.

      Servant

      Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel:

      Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down;

      And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:

      Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;

      Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:

      Say I love Brutus, and I honour him;

      Say I fear’d Caesar, honour’d him and loved him.

      If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony

      May safely come to him, and be resolved

      How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death,

      Mark Antony shall not love Caesar 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.

      Brutus

      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 my honour,

      Depart untouch’d.

      Servant

      I’ll fetch him presently.

      Exit

      Brutus

      I know that we shall have him well to friend.

      Cassius

      I wish we may: but yet have I a mind

      That fears him much; and my misgiving still

      Falls shrewdly to the purpose.

      Brutus

      But here comes Antony.

      Re-enter Antony

      Welcome, Mark Antony.

      Antony

      O mighty Caesar! 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 Caesar’s death 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 Caesar, and by you cut off,

      The choice and master spirits of this age.

      Brutus

      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

      And this the bleeding business they have done:

      Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful;

      And pity to the general wrong of Rome —

      As fire drives out fire, so pity pity —

      Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part,

      To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony:

      Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts

      Of brothers’ temper, do receive you in

      With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.

      Cassius

      Your voice shall be as strong as any man’s

      In the disposing of new dignities.

      Brutus

      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 Caesar when I struck him,

      Have thus proceeded.

      Antony

      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 last 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.

      That I did love thee, Caesar, O, ’tis true:

      If then thy spirit look upon us now,

      Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,

      To see thy thy Anthony 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, brave hart;

      Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,

      Sign’d in thy spoil, and crimson’d in thy lethe.

      O world, thou wast the forest to this hart;

      And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.

      How like a deer, strucken by many princes,

      Dost thou here lie!

      Cassius

      Mark Antony,—

      Antony

      Pardon me, Caius Cassius:

      The enemies of Caesar shall say this;

      Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

      Cassius

      I blame you not for praising Caesar 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?

      Antony

      Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed,

      Sway’d from the point, by looking down on Caesar.

      Friends am I with you all and love you all,

      Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons

      Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.

      Brutus

      Or else were this a savage spectacle:

      Our reasons are so full of good regard

      That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,

      You should be satisfied.

      Antony

      That’s all I seek:

      And am moreover suitor that I may

      Produce his body to the market-place;

      And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,

      Speak in the order of his funeral.

      Brutus

      You shall, Mark Antony.

      Cassius

      Brutus, a word with you.

      Aside to Brutus

      You know not what you do: do not consent

      That Antony speak in his funeral:

      Know you how much the people may be moved

      By that which he will utter?

      Brutus

      By your pardon;

      I will myself into the pulpit first,

      And show the reason of our Caesar’s death:

      What Antony shall speak, I will protest

      He speaks by leave and by permission,

      And that we are contented Caesar shall

      Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies.

      It shall advantage more than do us wrong.

      Cassius

      I know not what may fall; I l
    ike it not.

      Brutus

      Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar’s body.

      You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,

      But speak all good you can devise of Caesar,

      And say you do’t by our permission;

      Else shall you not have any hand at all

      About his funeral: and you shall speak

      In the same pulpit whereto I am going,

      After my speech is ended.

      Antony

      Be it so.

      I do desire no more.

      Brutus

      Prepare the body then, and follow us.

      Exeunt all but Antony

      Antony

      O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

      That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

      Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

      That ever lived in the tide of times.

      Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

      Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,—

      Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,

      To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue —

      A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;

      Domestic fury and fierce civil strife

      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

      Their infants quarter’d with the hands of war;

      All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

      And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,

      With Ate by his side come hot from hell,

      Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice

      Cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war;

      That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

      With carrion men, groaning for burial.

      Enter a Servant

      You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?

      Servant

      I do, Mark Antony.

      Antony

      Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.

      Servant

      He did receive his letters, and is coming;

      And bid me say to you by word of mouth —

      O Caesar!—

      Seeing the body

      Antony

      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?

      Servant

      He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome.

      Antony

      Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced:

      Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,

      No Rome of safety for Octavius yet;

      Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile;

      Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse

      Into the market-place: there shall I try

      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 Caesar’s body

      SCENE II. THE FORUM.

      Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of Citizens

      Citizens

      We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

      Brutus

      Then follow me, and give me audience, friends.

      Cassius, go you into the other street,

      And part the numbers.

      Those that will hear me speak, let ’em stay here;

      Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;

      And public reasons shall be rendered

      Of Caesar’s death.

      First Citizen

      I will hear Brutus speak.

      Second Citizen

      I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons,

      When severally we hear them rendered.

      Exit Cassius, with some of the Citizens. Brutus goes into the pulpit

      Third Citizen

      The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

      Brutus

      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 Caesar’s, to him I say, that Brutus’ love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: — Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar 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 is 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 Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

      All

      None, Brutus, none.

      Brutus

      Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall 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.

      Enter Antony and others, with Caesar’s body

      Here comes his body, mourned 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.

      All

      Live, Brutus! live, live!

      First Citizen

      Bring him with triumph home unto his house.

      Second Citizen

      Give him a statue with his ancestors.

      Third Citizen

      Let him be Caesar.

      Fourth Citizen

      Caesar’s better parts

      Shall be crown’d in Brutus.

      First Citizen

      We’ll bring him to his house

      With shouts and clamours.

      Brutus

      My countrymen,—

      Second Citizen

      Peace, silence! Brutus speaks.

      First Citizen

      Peace, ho!

      Brutus

      Good countrymen, let me depart alone,

      And, for my sake, stay here with Antony:

      Do grace to Caesar’s corpse, and grace his speech

      Tending to Caesar’s glories; which Mark Antony,

      By our permission, is allow’d to make.

      I do entreat you, not a man depart,

      Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.

      Exit

      First Citizen

      Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.

      Third Citizen

      Let him go up into the public chair;

      We’ll hear him. Noble Antony, go up.

      Antony

      For Brutus’ sake, I am beholding to you.

      Goes into the pulpit

      Fourth Citizen

      What does he say of Brutus?

      Third Citizen

      He says, for Brutus’ sake,

      He finds himself beholding to us all.

      Fourth Citizen

      ’Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here.

      First Citizen

      This Caesar was a tyrant.

      Third Citizen

      Nay, that’s certain:

      We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

      Second Citizen

      Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.

      Antony


      You gentle Romans,—

      Citizens

      Peace, ho! let us hear him.

      Antony

      Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

      I come to bury Caesar, 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 Caesar. The noble Brutus

      Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:

      If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

      And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.

      Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest —

      For Brutus is an honourable man;

      So are they all, all honourable men —

      Come I to speak in Caesar’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 Caesar seem ambitious?

      When that the poor have cried, Caesar 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 Caesar,

      And I must pause till it come back to me.

      First Citizen

      Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

      Second Citizen

      If thou consider rightly of the matter,

      Caesar has had great wrong.

      Third Citizen

      Has he, masters?

      I fear there will a worse come in his place.

      Fourth Citizen

      Mark’d ye his words? He would not take the crown;

      Therefore ’tis certain he was not ambitious.

      First Citizen

      If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

      Second Citizen

      Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

      Third Citizen

      There’s not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

      Fourth Citizen

      Now mark him, he begins again to speak.

      Antony

      But yesterday the word of Caesar 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,

     


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