CIN. O Cæfar,

CES. Hence? Wilt thou lift up Olympus?

DEC. Great Cæfar,

CES. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
CASCA. Speak, hands, for me.

[CASCA ftabs CESAR in the neck. CESAR catches bold of his arm. He is then ftabb'd by several other confpirators, and at laft by MARCUs Brutus. CES. Et tu, Brute ?-Then fall, Cæfar.

[Dies. The fenators and people retire in confufion. 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 fenators! be not affrighted; Fly not; ftand ftill :-ambition's debt is paid. CASCA. Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

DEC. And Caffius too.

BRU. Where's Publius?

CIN. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. MET. Stand faft together, left some friend of Cæfar's Should chance

BRU. Talk not of standing ;-Publius, good cheer; There is no harm intended to your perfon,

Nor to no Roman elfe: fo tell them, Publius.

CAS. And leave us, Publius; left that the people, Rushing on us, fhould do your age fome mifchief. BRU. Do fo;-and let no man abide this deed, But we the doers.

Re-enter TREBONIUS.

CAS. Where's Antony?

TRE. Fled to his house amaz’d:

Men, wives, and children, ftare, cry out, and run,

As it were doomfday.

BRU. Fates we will know your pleasures:—
That we shall die, 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 fo many years of fearing death.

BRU. Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
So are we Cæfar's friends, that have abridg'd
His time of fearing death.-Stoop, Romans, stoop,
And let us bathe our hands in Cæfar's blood
Up to the elbows, and befmear 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 fcene be acted over,

In states unborn, and accents yet unknown?

BRU. How many times fhall Cæfar bleed in fport, That now on Pompey's bafis lies along,

No worthier than the duft?

CAS. So oft as that shall be,

So often fhall the knot of us be call'd

The men that gave our country liberty.
DEC. What, fhall we forth?

CAS. Ay, every man away:

Brutus fhall lead; and we will grace his heels
With the most boldest and beft hearts of Rome,

Enter a SERVANT.

BRU. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's, SERV. Thus, Brutus, did my mafter bid me kneel; Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; And, being proftrate, thus he bade me say. Brutus is noble, wife, valiant, and honeft;

Cæfar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him;
Say, I fear'd Cæfar, honour'd him, and lov'd him.
If Brutus will vouchfafe, that Antony
May fafely come to him, and be refolv'd
How Cæfar hath deferv'd to lie in death,
Mark Antony fhall not love Cæfar 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 fays my master Antony.

BRU. Thy mafter is a wife and valiant Roman;

I never thought him worse.

Tell him, fo please him come unto this place,

He shall be fatisfied; and, by my honour,

Depart untouch'd.

SERV. I'll fetch him presently.

[Exit SERT.

BRU. I know, that we fhall have him well to friend. CAS. I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind, That fears him much; and my mifgiving still Falls fhrewdly to the purpose.

Re-enter ANTONY.

BRU. But here comes Antony.-Welcome, Mark An-
ANT. O mighty Cæfar! Doft thou lie fo low? [tony.
Are all thy conquefts, 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 elfe is rank:

If I myself, there is no hour fo fit

As Cæfar's death's hour; nor no inftrument

Of half that worth, as those your fwords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do befeech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and fmoke, your pleasure. Live a thousand years,

Fulfil

I fhall not find myself fo apt to die :

No place will please me so, no mean of death,
As here by Cæfar, and by you cut off,

The choice and mafter fpirits 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 fee we do; yet fee you but our hands,
And this the bleeding business they have done :
Our hearts you fee not, they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome
(As fire drives out fire, fo pity, pity,)

Hath done this deed on Cæfar. For your part,

To

you our fwords have leaden points, Mark Antony: Our arms, in ftrength of malice, and our hearts, Of brothers' temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. CAS. Your voice fhall be as ftrong as any man's, In the difpofing of new dignities.

BRU. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd The multitude, befide themselves with fear, And then we will deliver you the cause,

Why I, that did love Cæfar when I ftruck him,

Have thus proceeded.

ANT. I doubt not of your wifdom.

Let each man render me his bloody hand:

First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with

Next, Caius Caffius, do I take

your

you;hand;

Now, Decius Brutus, yours ;—now yours, Metellus; Yours, Cinna ;-and, my valiant Casca, yours;— Though laft, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.

Gentlemen all,-alas! what fhall I fay?

My credit now ftands on fuch flippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward, or a flatterer.—

That I did love thee, Cæfar, O, 'tis true :

If then thy spirit look upon us now,

Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death,
To fee 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 haft 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 waft thou bay'd, brave hart;
Here didft thou fall; and here thy hunters ftand,
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.
O world! thou waft the foreft to this hart;
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.-
How like a deer, ftricken by many princes,
Doft thou here lie?

CAS. Mark Antony,

ANT. Pardon me, Caius Caffius: The enemies of Cæfar fhall fay this; Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

CAS. I blame you not for praising Cæfar so; But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prick'd in number of our friends; Or fhall 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 Cæfar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all;

Upon this hope, that you fhall give me reasons,