And I muft paufe 'till it come back to me.

I Pleb. Methinks there is much reafon in his fayings. If thou confider rightly of the matter,

Cafar has had great wrong.

*

3 Pleb. Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.

4 Pleb. Mark'd ye his words? he would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain, he was not ambitious.

1 Pleb. If it be found fo, fome will dear abide it.

2 Pleb. Poor foul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping. 3 Pleb. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. 4 Pleb. Now mark him, he begins again to speak. Ant. But yesterday the word of Cæfar might Have ftood against the world; now lyes he there, And none fo poor to do him reverence. O mafters! if I were difpos'd to ftir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Caffius wrong;
Who, you all know, are honourable men.
I will not do them wrong: I rather chufe
To wrong the dead, to wrong my self and you,
Than I will wrong fuch honourable men.
But here's a parchment, with the feal of Cæfar,
I found it in his closet, 'tis his Will;
Let but the Commons hear this teftament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read)
And they would go and kifs dead Cafar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his facred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And dying, mention it within their Wills,

has had great wrong.

3 Pleb. Cafar had never wrong, but with juft caufe.

If ever there was fuch a line written by Shakespear, I should fancy it might have its place here, and very humorously in the character of a Plebeian. One might believe Ben Johnson's remark was made upon no better credit than Jome blunder of an actor in speaking that verfe near the beginning of the third alt,

Know Cafar doth not wrong, nor without cause

Will he be fatisfy'd

But the verle as cited by Ben Johnfon does not connect with --- Will he be fatisfy'd. Perhaps this play was never printed in Ben Johnson's time, and fo be had nothing to judge by, but as the actor pleas'd to Speak it.

Be.

Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

Unto their iffue.

4 Pleb. We'll hear the Will; read it, Mark Antony. All. The Will, the Will: we will hear Cafar's Will. Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it, It is not meet you know how Cæfar lov'd you. You are not wood, you are not ftones, but men: And being men, hearing the Will of Cafar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad. 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs, For if you should

O what would come of it? 4 Pleb. Read the Will, we'll hear it, Antony: You fhall read us the Will, Cafar's Will.

Ant. Will you be patient? will you stay a while?
(I have o'er-fhot my felf to tell you of it.)
I fear I wrong the honourable men,

Whofe daggers have ftabb'd Cæfar-
4 Pleb. They were traitors
All. The Will! the teftament !

- I do fear it. honourable men!

2 Pleb. They were villains, murderers; the Will! read the Will!

Ant. You will compel me then to read the Will?
Then make a ring about the corps of Cæfar,
And let me fhew you him that made the Will.
Shall I defcend? and will you give me leave?
All. Come down.

2 Pleb. Defcend.

[He comes down from the pulpit.

3 Pleb. You fhall have leave. 4 Pleb. A ring; ftand round.

i Pleb. Stand from the hearfe, ftand from the body. 2 Pleb. Room for Antony·

most noble Antony!

Ant. Nay, prefs not fo upon me, ftand far off.
All. Stand back -room- bear back.

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to fhed them now.

You all do know this mantle; I remember

The first time ever Cæfar put it on,

'Twas on a fummer'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 Cafca made.

Through

Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his curfed fteel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæfar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors, to be refolv'd,
If Brutus fo unkindly knock'd, or no:
For Brutus, as you know, was Cafar's angel.
Judge, oh you Gods! how dearly Cafar lov'd him.
This, this, was the unkindeft cut of all;
For when the noble Cæfar faw him stab,
Ingratitude, more ftrong than traitors arms,
Quite vanquifh'd him; then burft his mighty heart:
And in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's ftatue which
All the while ran with blood, great Cæfar fell.
O 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 when you but behold
Our Cæfar's vefture wounded? look you here!
Here is himself, marr'd as you fee by traitors.
1 Pleb. O piteous fpectacle!

2 Pleb. O noble Cæfar!
3 Pleb. O woful day!

4 Pleb. O traitors, villains!
i Pleb. O moft bloody fight!

2 Pleb. We will be reveng'd: revenge: about-feekburn-fire-kill-flay! let not a traitor live.

Ant. Stay, Countrymen

1 Pleb. Peace there, hear the noble Antony.

2 Pleb. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with

him

Ant. Good friends, fweet friends, let me not ftir you up To fuch a fudden 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 wife and honourable ;
And will no doubt with reasons answer you.

I come not, friends, to fteal away your hearts;

I am no Orator, as Brutus is:

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well,
That give me publick leave to speak of him:
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action nor utt'rance, nor the power of speech,
To ftir mens blood; I only speak right on.
I tell you that which you your felves do know,

Shew you fweet Cafar'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 fpirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæfar, that should move
The ftones of Rome to rife and mutiny.
All. We'll mutiny.

I Pleb. We'll burn the houfe of Brutus.

3 Pleb. Away then, come, feek the confpirators. Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen, yet hear me fpeak. All. Peace, ho, hear Antony, moft noble Antony. Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. Wherein hath Caefar thus deferv'd your loves? Alas, you know not; I must tell you then: You have forgot the Will I told you of.

All. Moft true-the Will-let's ftay and hear the Will. Ant. Here is the Will, and under Cæfar's feal.

To ev'ry, Roman citizen he gives,

To ev'ry feveral man, fev'nty five drachma's.

2 Pleb. Moft noble Cæfar! we'll revenge his death. 3 Pleb. O royal Cæfar!

Ant. Hear me with patience.

All. Peace, ho!

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,

His private arbors, and new-planted orchards
On that fide Tiber, he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate your felves.
Here was a Cæfar, when comes fuch another?

1 Pleb. Never, never; come, away, away;
We'll burn his body in the holy place,
And with the brands fire all the traitors houses.
VOL. VII.

T

Take

Take up the body.

2 Pleb. Go fetch fire.

3 Pleb, Pluck down benches.

4 Pleb. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing. [Exeunt Plebeians with the body.

Ant. Now let it work; mifchief, thou art afoot;
Take thou what courfe thou wilt!-How now, fellow?
Enter a Servant.

Ser. Octavius is already come to Rome.
Ant. Where is he?

Ser. He and Lepidus are at Cafar's houfe.
Ant. And thither will I ftraight, to vifit him;
He comes upon a wifh. Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will give us any thing.

Ser. I heard him fay, Brutus and Caffius
Are rid, like madmen, through the gates of Rome.
Ant. Belike they had fome notice of the people,
How I had mov'd them. Bring me to Otavius. [Exeunt,
SCENE VII.

Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians. Cin. I dreamt to-night, that I did feaft with Cæfar, And things unluckily charge my fantafie;

I have no will to wander forth of doors:

Yet fomething leads me forth.

1 Pleb. What is your name?

2 Pleb. Whither are you going? Pleb. Where do you dwell?

Pleb. Are you a married man, or a batchelor? 2 Pleb. Anfwer every man directly.

1 Pleb. Ay, and briefly.

4 Pleb. Ay, and wifely.

3 Pleb. Ay, and truly, you were best.

Cin. What is my name? whither am I going? where do I dwell? am I a married man, or a batchelor? then to answer every man directly and briefly, wifely and truly; wifely, I fay I am a batchelor.

2 Pleb. That's as much as to fay, they are fools that marry; you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear: proceed directly.

Cin. Directly, I am going to Cæfar's funeral.