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Cafar was mighty, royal, bold and loving;
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say, I fear'd Cafar, honour'd him, and lov'd him,
If Brutus will vouchfafe that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cefar hath deferv'd to lie in death:
Mark Antony fhall not love Cafar 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 presently.

[Exit Servant,

Bru. I know, that we shall have him well to friend. Caf. I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind, That fears him much; and my misgiving still

Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

S CE NE III.

Enter Antony.

Bru. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.

Ant. O mighty Cafar! 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 elfe is rank; If I myself, there is no hour so fit

As Cafar's death's hour; nor no inftrument

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

I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard,

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Now,

Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and fmoak,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I fhall not find myself fo apt to die:

"No place will please me fo, no meane 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 muft 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 business 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 Cæfar: 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 fhall 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 Cafar 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, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus ;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Tho' laft, not leaft in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all-alas, what fhall I fay?
My credit now ftands on fuch flippery 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, Cafar, oh, 'tis true;
If then thy spirit 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 corse?
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 close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius- here waft thou bay'd, brave harts
Here didft thou fall, and here thy hunters ftand
Sign'd in thy fpoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.
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·

Ant. Pardon me, Caius Caffius:

The enemies of Cæfar fhall fay this:
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

Caf. I blame you not for praifing Cæfar fo,
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 Cefar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all; Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons, Why, and wherein Cafar was dangerous.

4-crimson'd in thy Lethe.] Mr. Theobald fays, The dictio naries acknowledge no fuch word as Lethe; yet he is not without fuppofition, that Shakespear coin'd the word; and yet for all that, the L. might be a D. imperfectly wrote, therefore he will have death inftead of it. After all this pother, Lethe was a common French word, fignifying, death or deftruction, from the latin lethum. So in Anthony and Cleopatra he says,

i. e. deadly.

Ev'n to a lethi'd dulnefs.

E 2

Bru,

Bru. Or elfe this were a favage fpectacle.
Our reasons are fo full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the Son of Cæfar,
You should be fatisfied.

Ant. That's all I feek;

And am moreover fuitor, 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.
Bru. You fhall, Mark Antony.
Caf. Brutus, a word with you.-

You know not what you do; do not confent, [Afide.
That Antony speak in his funeral:

Know you, how much the People may be mov'd
By That which he will utter?

Bru. By your pardon,

I will myself into the Pulpit firft,

And fhew the reafon of our Cæfar's death.
What Antony fhall fpeak, I will proteft
He speaks by leave, and by permiffion:
And that we are contented, Cafar fhall
Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies:
It fhall advantage more, than do us wrong.

Caf. I know not what may fall, I like it not.
Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Cæfar's body:
You fhall not in your funeral speech blame us,
But fpeak all good you can devife of Cæfar;
And fay, you do't by our permiffion :
Elfe fhall you not have any hand at all
About his funeral. And you fhall speak
In the fame Pulpit whereto I am going,
After my speech is ended.

Ant. Be it fo;

I do defire no more.

Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us.

[Exeunt Confpirators.

SCENE

SCEN NE IV.

Manet Antony:

Ant. O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth! That I am meek and gentle with these butchers, Thou art the ruins of the nobleft man,

That ever lived in the tide of times.

Woe to the hand, that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophefie,

(Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue)
A curfe fhall light upon the line of men;
Domestick fury, and fierce civil ftrife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and deftruction fhall be so in use,
And dreadful objects fo familiar,

That mothers fhall but fmile, when they behold
Their infants quarter'd by the hands of war:
All pity choak'd with custom of fell deeds;
"And Cafar's fpirit, ranging for revenge,
"With Até by his fide come hot from hell,
"Shall in these confines, with a Monarch's voice,
"Cry Havock, and let flip the Dogs of war;
That this foul deed fhall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Enter Octavius's Servant.

You ferve Octavius Cæfar, do you not?
Ser. I do, Mark Antony.

Ant. Cafar did write for him to come to Rome.
Ser. He did receive his letters, and is coming;
And bid me fay to you by word of mouth-
O Cæfar!

[Seeing the Body.

5 upon the LIMBS of men ;] We should read,

i.e. human race.

LINE of men;

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