Cæsar.
The ides of March are come.

Soo.
Ay, Cæsar; but not gone.

Art.
Hail, Cæsar! Read this &dagger2; schedule.

Dec.
Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read,

At your best leisure, this &dagger2; his humble suit.

Art.
O, Cæsar, read mine first; for mine's a suit
That touches Cæsar nearer: Read it, great Cæsar.

Cæs.
What touches us ourself, shall be last serv'd.

Art.
Delay not, Cæsar; read it instantly.

Cæs.
What, is the fellow mad?

Pub.
Sirrah, give place.

Cas.
What, urge you your petitions in the street?
Come to the capitol. [Artemidorus is push'd back. Cæsar, and the rest, enter the Senate: The Senate rises. Popilius presses forward to speak to Cæsar; and passing Cassius, says,

Pop.
I wish, to-day your enterprise may thrive.

Cas.
What enterprise, Popilius?

Pop.
Fare you well. [leaves him, and joins Cæsar.

&clquo;Bru.
&clquo;What said Popilius Lena?&crquo;

&clquo;Cas.
&clquo;He wish'd, to-day our enterprise might thrive.&crquo;
&clquo;I fear, our purpose is discovered.&crquo;

&clquo;Bru.
&clquo;Look, how he makes to Cæsar: Mark him.&crquo;

&clquo;Cas.
&clquo;Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.&crquo;—
&clquo;Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,&crquo;
&clquo;Cassius, or Cæsar, never shall turn back,&crquo;
&clquo;For I will slay myself.&crquo;

&clquo;Bru.
&clquo;Cassius, be constant:&crquo;
&clquo;Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; ^note&crquo;
&clquo;For, look, he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change.&crquo;

&clquo;Cas.
&clquo;Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus,&crquo;
&clquo;He draws Mark Antony out of the way.&crquo; [Exeunt Antony and Trebonius, ^note conversing. Cæsar takes his Seat; the Senate, theirs: and Metellus advances towards Cæsar.

&clquo;Dec.
&clquo;Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go,&crquo;

&clquo;And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar.&crquo;

&clquo;Bru.
&clquo;He is address'd: press near, and second him.&crquo;

&clquo;Cin.
&clquo;Casca, you are the first that rear your hand.&crquo; [The Conspirators range themselves about Cæsar; Casca, ^note on the right hand of his Chair, behind.

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:— [prostrating himself.

Cæs.
I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings ^note, and these lowly courtesies,
Might fire the blood of ordinary men;
And turn pre-ordinance, and first decree,
Into the lane 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 curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished:
If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn, for him,
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Cæsar doth not wrong; nor without cause
Will he be satisfy'd.

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.

Cæs.
What, Brutus!

Cas.
Pardon, Cæsar; Cæsar, pardon:

As low as ^note to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

Cæs.
I could be well mov'd, 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-fixt, and resting quality,
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
So, in the world; 'Tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
Yet, in the number, I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshak'd of motion: and, that I am he,
Let me a little shew 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 ^note Brutus bootless kneel?

Cas^ca.
Speak, hands, for me. [stabbing him in the Neck. Cæsar rises, catches at the Dagger, and struggles with him: defends himself, for a time, against him, and against the other Conspirators; but, stab'd by Brutus,

Cæs.
Et tu, Brute?—Then fall, Cæsar. [he submits; muffles up his Face in his Mantle; falls, and dies. Senate in Confusion.

Cin.
Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!—
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

Cas.
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 pay'd.

Cas^ca.
Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

Dec.
And Cassius too.

Bru.
Where's Publius?

Cin.
Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

Met.
Stand fast together, lest some friend of Cæsar's
Should chance—

Bru.
Talk not of standing:—Publius, good cheer;
There is no harm intended to your person,
Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.

Cas.
And leave us, Publius; lest that the people,
Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.

Bru.
Do so;—and let no man abide this deed,
But we the doers. [Exeunt All but Conspirators. Re-enter Trebonius.

Cas.
Where's Antony?

Tre.
Fled to his house amaz'd:
Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run,
As it were doom's-day.

Bru.
Fates, we will know your pleasures:—
That we shall dye, 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 abridg'd
His time of fearing death.—Stoop, Romans, stoop,14Q1035
And let us bath our hands in Cæsar's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:

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!

Cas.
Stoop then, and wash.—How many ages hence,
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over,
In states unborn, and accents yet unknown?

Bru.
How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport,
That now on Pompey's basis lyes ^note along,
No worthier than the dust?

Cas.
So oft as that shall be,
So often shall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.

Dec.
What, shall we forth?

Cas.
Ay, every man away: ^note
Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels
With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. Enter a Servant.^b.

Bru.
Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's.

Ser.
Thus, Brutus, † did my master bid me kneel;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down;
And, being prostrate, thus he bad me say.
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
Cæsar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;
Say, I fear'd Cæsar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony
May safely come to him, and be resolv'd
How Cæsar hath deserv'd to lye 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.

Bru.
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 satisfy'd; and, by my honour,
Depart untouch'd.

Ser.
I'll fetch him presently. ^note [Exit Servant.

Bru.
I know, that we shall have him well to friend.

Cas.
I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind
That fears him much; and my misgiving still
Falls shrewdly to the purpose. Re-enter Antony.

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

Ant.
O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lye 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 purpl'd hands do reek and smoak,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to dye:
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,
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 Cæsar. For your part,
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony,
Our arms no strength ^note of malice;14Q1036 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 appeas'd
The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
And then we will deliver you the cause,
Why I, that did love Cæsar when I strook him,
Have thus proceeded.

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.—
That I did love thee, Cæsar, o, '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, brave hart; ^note
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 ^note thee.—
How like a deer, strooken by many princes,
Dost thou here lye?

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 compáct 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 were this a savage spectacle:
Our reasons are so full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar,
You should be satisfy'd.

Ant.
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.

Bru.
You shall, Mark Antony.

Cas.
Brutus, a word with you.
&clquo;You know not what you do; Do not consent,&crquo;
&clquo;That Antony speak in his funeral:&crquo;
&clquo;Know you how much the people may be mov'd&crquo;
&clquo;By that which he will utter?&crquo;

&clquo;Bru.
&clquo;By your pardon;—
&clquo;I will myself into the pulpit first,&crquo;
&clquo;And shew the reason of our Cæsar's death:&crquo;
&clquo;What Antony shall speak, I will protest&crquo;
&clquo;He speaks by leave and by permission;&crquo;
&clquo;And that we are contented, Cæsar shall&crquo;
&clquo;Have all true rites ^note, and lawful ceremonies.&crquo;
&clquo;It shall advantage more, than do us wrong.&crquo;

&clquo;Cas.
&clquo;I know not what may fall; I like it not.&crquo;

Bru.
Mark Antony, here, take you Cæsar's body.
You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,
But speak all good you can devise of Cæsar;
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.

Ant.
Be it so;
I do desire no more.

Bru.
Prepare the body then, and follow us. [Exeunt All but 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 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 shall14Q1037 light upon the limbs of ^note 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 choak'd with custom of fell deeds:
And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry, Havock, 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.^c.
You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not?

Ser.
I do, Mark Antony.

Ant.
Cæsar did write to him, to come to Rome ^note.

Ser.
He did receive his letters, and is coming:
And bid me say to you by word of mouth,—
O Cæsar!— [Seeing the Body.

Ant.
Thy heart is big; get thee apart and weep.
Passion, I see, is catching; for mine ^note eyes,
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
Began to water. Is thy master coming?

Ser.
He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome.

Ant.
Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanc'd:
Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
No Rome of safety for Octavius yet;
Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay a while;
Thou shalt not back, 'till I have born 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 the Body.

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