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 my self, 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 smoak,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,

I shall not find my self so apt to die:
No place will please me so, no means 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 ^{a note}exempt from malice, and our hearts
Of brother's 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,
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.
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, brave hart,
Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy ^{b note}death.* ^note

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 were this 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 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—
You know not what you do, do not consent [Aside.
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 my self into the pulpit first,
And shew the reason of our Cæsar's death.
What Antony shall speak, I will protest
He speaks by leave, and by permission;
And that we are contented Cæsar shall
Have all due rites, and lawful ceremonies:
It shall advantage more, than do us wrong.

Cas.
I know not what may fall, I like it not.

Bru.
Mark Antony, here take your 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:
You shall not else 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.

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