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But yesterday, the word of Cesar might Have stood against the world: now lies he there, And none so poor* to do him reverence. O masters! if I were dispos'd to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men: I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar, I found it in his closet, 'cis his will: Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) And they would go and kiss dear Cesar's wounds, And dip their napkinst in his sacred blood; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
4 Cit. We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony Cit. The will, the will; we will hear Cesar's will. Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not
4 Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony; You shall read us the will: Cesar's will.
Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay a while? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it, I fear, I wrong the honourable men, Whose daggers have stabb’d Cesar: I do fear it.
4 Cit. They were traitors: Honourable men! Cit. The will! the testament!
* The meanesi man is now too high to do reverence to Cesar.
2 Cit. They were villains, murderers: The will! Read the will!
Ant. You will compel me then to read the will?
Cit. Come down.
Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle!
2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about,seek, burn,-fire,-kill, -slay!-let not a traitor live. Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir
you up. To such a 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 reasons 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 my friend; 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 utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that, which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor
dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruftle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cesar, that should move ; The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
THE TENT SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.
Bru. You wrongʻd yourself, to write in such a case.
Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet That every
nice* offence should bear his comment. Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemnd to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold, To undeservers. Cas.
I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
Brutus, bay not me,
Go to; you're not, Cassius.
† Bait, bark at. Limit my authority $ Terms, fit to confer the offices at my disposal.
Bru. I say you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further,
Bru. Away, slight man!
Hear me, for I will speak.
Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this? Bru. All this? ay, more: Fret, till your proud
heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must 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, Though it do split you: for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. Cas.
Is it come to this?
If you did, I care not.
should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats: