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brave hart;

      Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,

      Sign’d in thy spoil, and crimson’d in thy lethe.

      O world, thou wast the forest to this hart;

      And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.

      How like a deer, strucken by many princes,

      Dost thou here lie!

      CASSIUS

      Mark Antony, —

      ANTONY

      Pardon me, Caius Cassius:

      The enemies of Caesar shall say this;

      Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

      CASSIUS

      I blame you not for praising Caesar so;

      But what compact mean you to have with us?

      Will you be prick’d in number of our friends;

      Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

      ANTONY

      Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed,

      Sway’d from the point, by looking down on Caesar.

      Friends am I with you all and love you all,

      Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons

      Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.

      BRUTUS

      Or else were this a savage spectacle:

      Our reasons are so full of good regard

      That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,

      You should be satisfied.

      ANTONY

      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.

      BRUTUS

      You shall, Mark Antony.

      CASSIUS

      Brutus, a word with you.

      Aside to BRUTUS

      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?

      BRUTUS

      By your pardon;

      I will myself into the pulpit first,

      And show the reason of our Caesar’s death:

      What Antony shall speak, I will protest

      He speaks by leave and by permission,

      And that we are contented Caesar shall

      Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies.

      It shall advantage more than do us wrong.

      CASSIUS

      I know not what may fall; I like it not.

      BRUTUS

      Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar’s body.

      You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,

      But speak all good you can devise of Caesar,

      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.

      ANTONY

      Be it so.

      I do desire no more.

      BRUTUS

      Prepare the body then, and follow us.

      Exeunt all but ANTONY

      ANTONY

      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 quarter’d with the hands of war;

      All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

      And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,

      With Ate 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;

      That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

      With carrion men, groaning for burial.

      Enter a Servant

      You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?

      Servant

      I do, Mark Antony.

      ANTONY

      Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.

      Servant

      He did receive his letters, and is coming;

      And bid me say to you by word of mouth-

      O Caesar! —

      Seeing the body

      ANTONY

      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?

      Servant

      He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome.

      ANTONY

      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

      In my oration, how the people take

      The cruel issue of these bloody men;

      According to the which, thou shalt discourse

      To young Octavius of the state of things.

      Lend me your hand.

      Exeunt with CAESAR’s body

      Scene II

      The

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