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Ant. Therefore I took your hands; but was, in

deed,

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.—

[aside.

You know not what you do: do not consent

That Antony speak in his funeral:

Know you how much the people may be moved
By that which he will utter?

Bru.

By your pardon ;-
I will myself into the pulpit first,

And show 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 true rites and lawful ceremonies.
It shall advantage more than do us wrong.
Cas. I know not what may fall; I like it not.

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Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you 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: Else shall you not 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.

I do desire no more.

Be it so;

Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us.

[Exeunt all but Antony. Ant. O, pardon me, thou piece of bleeding earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man,

That ever lived in the tide 1 of times.

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,—
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue ;-
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction, shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,

That mothers shall but smile, when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

1 Course.

And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

With Até by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry Havock!'1 and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Enter SERVANT.

You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not?
Ser. I do, Mark Antony.

Ant. Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome.

Ser. He did receive his letters, and is coming; And bid me say to you by word of mouth,

O Cæsar!

[seeing the body. Ant. Thy heart is big; get thee apart and weep. Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming?

Ser. He lies to-night within seven leagues of

Rome.

Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced:

Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
No Rome of safety for Octavius yet:

Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet stay awhile:
Thou shalt not back, till I have borne this corse
Into the market-place: there shall I try,

1 A word, by which declaration was made that no quarter would be granted.

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