Low, crooked crooked courtesies, and base, spaniel fawning;

Thy brother by decree is banished;

I

If thou dost bend, and pray and fawn for him,
spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Cæsar doth not wrong; nor without cause
Will he be satisfied!

But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament!”

The conspirators at this moment crowd around the doomed hero with pretended petitions—and, instanter, Casca stabs Cæsar in the neck, while several other murdering senators stab him through the body, and last Marcus Brutus plunges a dagger in the heart of his benefactor and father, when with glaring eyes and dying breath, the noble Cæsar exclaims:

"Et tu, Brute?" (And thou, Brutus?)

Thus tumbled down at the base of Pompey's statue the greatest man the world has ever known!

Then the citizens of Rome-royal, rabble and conspirators, were filled with consternation, while Brutus tried to stem the rising flood of indignation.

Mark Antony was allowed to weep and speak over the pulseless clay of his official partner and friend.

Gazing on the cold, bloody form of the amazing Julius, he utters these pathetic phrases:

"O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, 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 else is rank;
If I myself, there is no hour so fit

As Cæsar's death-hour; nor no instrument
Of half that worth, as those your swords, made

rich

With the most noble blood of all this world.
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now, while your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die;

No place will please me so, no mean of death
As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirit of this age!"

Brutus gave orders for a grand funeral, turning the body of the dead lion over to Antony, who might make the funeral oration to the people within such bounds of discretion as the conspirators dictated.

Standing alone, by the dead body of Cæsar in the Senate, Antony pours out thus, the overflowing vengeance of his soul:

"O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers; Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever lived in the tide 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 quartered with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds;
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, Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war!

The wild citizens of Rome clamored for the reason of Cæsar's death, and Brutus mounted the rostrum in the Forum and delivered this cunning and bold oration in defense of the conspirators:

"Romans, countrymen and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent that ye may hear; believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe; censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you may the better judge.

"If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his.

"If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer. Not that I loved Cæsar less; but that I loved Rome more!

“Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men?

"As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was

fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him, but as he was ambitious I slew him!

"There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor, and death for his ambition!

"Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended.

"I pause for a reply."

And then the rabble, vacillating, fool citizens said, "None, Brutus, none," and continue to yell, "Live, Brutus, live! live!"

Brutus leaves the Forum and requests the human cattle to remain and hear Antony relate the glories of Cæsar!

Finally Antony is persuaded to take the rostrum, and delivers this greatest funeral oration of all the ages:

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him;
The evil that men do live after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious;
If it were so it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honorable man,
So are they all, all honorable men);
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me;

But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor hath cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff;

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable 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 honorable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I know.
You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds 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 until it come back to me.
But, yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world, now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O, Masters! If I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honorable men.

I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you
Than I will wrong such honorable men.
But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar;