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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 with-holds 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 Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember,
The first time ever Cæsar put it on,
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii-
Look! in this place ran Caffius' dagger through ;-
See what a rent the envious Casca made..
Through this the well-beloved Brutus ftabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd,
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no:
For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.
Judge, oh ye gods! how dearly Cæsar lov'd him ;
This, this was the unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Cæsar saw him ftab,


Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquilh'd him; then burft his mighty heart:
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæfar fell.
Oh what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilft bloody treason flourish'd over us.
o, now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Kind fouls; what, weep you


but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded ? look you

here! Here is himfelf, marr'd, as you fee, by traitors.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To any sudden flood of mutiny. '
They that have done this deed are honourable.
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and honourable ;
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
I am no orator, as Brutus is :
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love


and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him :
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action nor utt'rance, nor the


of speech,
To ftir men's blood; I only speak right on:
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;

you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths!
And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue

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wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.


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Cas. "HAT you have wrong'd me doth appear in this,

You have condemn’d and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letter (praying on his fide,
Because I knew the man) was flighted of.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.

Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That ev'ry nice offence should bear its comment.

Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To fell and mart your offices for gold,
To undefervers.

Cas. I an itching palm?
You know, that you are Brutus that spake this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else


laft. Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cas. Chastisement !

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for justice fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; fhall we now
Contaminate our fingers wich base bribes ?


And sell the mighty meed of our large honours
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas. Brutus, bay not me,
I'll not endure it; you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to; you are not, Caflius.
Cas. I am.
Bru. I say, you are not.

CAS. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself
Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther.

Bru. Away, slight man!
Cas. Is't possible?

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.
Muft I give way and room to your rash choler ?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?

Cas. O gods! ye gods! muft I endure all this?
BRU. All this? ay more. Fret till your proud heart

break; Go, tell


Naves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?
Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Tho'it do split you: for from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea for my laughter,
When you are wafpish.

Cas. Is it come to this?
Bru. You say, you are a better soldier ;


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Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,
I fall be glad to learn of noble men.
CAs. You wrong me every way you wrong me,

I said, an elder soldier, not a better;
Did I say better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.
CAs. When Cæfar liv’d, he durft not thus have mov'd me.
Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted him.
CAS. I durft not!
Bru. No.
Cas. What? durft not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durit not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ;
may do what I shall be sorry for.

Bru. You have done that you should be forry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in

For I am arm's so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me, as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you deny'd me;
For I can raise no money by vile means:
By heav'n, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,

you denied me; was that done like Caflius ?
Should I have answer'd Caius Caflius fo?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,


threats ;

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