Bru.
They stand, and would have parley.

Cas.
Stand fast, Titinius, we must out and talk.

Octa.
Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battel?

Ant.
No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge.
Make forth, the Generals would have some words.

Octa.
Stir not until the signal.

Bru.
Words before blows: is it so, countrymen?

Octa.
Not that we love words better, as you do.

Bru.
Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

Ant.
In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words.
Witness the hole you made in Cæsar's heart,
Crying, long live, hail Cæsar.

Cas.
Antony,
The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
But for your words, they rob the Hibla bees,
And leave them honeyless.

Ant.
Not stingless too.* ^note

Bru.
You threat before you sting.

Ant.
Villains! you did not so, when your vile daggers
Hack'd one another in the sides of Cæsar.
You shew'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds,

And bow'd like bond-men, kissing Cæsar's feet;
Whilst damned Caska, like a cur, behind
Struck Cæsar on the neck. O flatterers!

Cas.
Flatterers! now Brutus thank your self;
This tongue had not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might have rul'd.

Octa.
Come, come, the cause. If arguing make us sweat,
The proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Behold I draw a sword against conspirators;
When think you that the sword goes up again?
Never 'till Cæsar's three and thirty wounds
Be well aveng'd; or 'till another Cæsar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

Bru.
Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors hands,
Unless thou bring'st them with thee.

Octa.
So I hope;
I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.

Bru.
O if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.

Cas.
A peevish school-boy, worthless of such honour,
Join'd with a masker and a reveller.

Ant.
Old Cassius still.

Octa.
Come, Antony, away;
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
If you dare fight to-day, come to the field,
If not, when you have stomachs. [Exe. Octavius, Antony, and army.

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