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4 Cit. A ring; stand round.

i Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

2 Cit. Room for Antony ;-most noble Antony. Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off. Cit. Stand back! room! bear back!

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii :Look! in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through: See, what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb’d; And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it; As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him! This was the most unkindest cut of all: For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arins, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity:* these are gracious drops.

? For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:) This title of endearment is more than once introduced in Sidney's Arcadia,

3 Which all the while ran blood,] The image seems to be, that the blood of Cæsar flew upon the statue, and trickled down it.

* The dint of pity : ) is the impression of pity.

Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look

you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

i Cit.. O piteous spectacle!
2 Cit. O noble Cæsar!
3 Cit. O woful day!
4 Cit. O traitors, villains !
i Cit. O most bloody sight!

2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about,seek,-burn,-fire,-kill,- slay!-let not a traitor live.

Ant. Stay, countrymen.
i Cit. Peace there :-Hear the noble Antony.

2 Cit. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. 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 publick 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 Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb

mouths,
And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move

your loves?

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

Cit. We'll mutiny. i Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus. 3 Cit. Away then, come, seek the conspirators. Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me

speak. Cit. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble An

tony. Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you

know not what: Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserv'd Alas, you know not:-I must tell you then:You have forgot the will I told you

of. Cit. Most true;-the will;- let's stay, and hear

the will. Ant. Here is the will, and under Cæsar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas." 2 Cit. Most noble Cæsar!-we'll revenge his

death.
3 Cit. O royal Cæsar!
Ant. Hear me with patience.
Cit. Peace, ho!

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tyber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæsar: When comes such another?

i Cit. Never, never :-Come, away, away:
We'll burn his body in the holy place,
And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
Take up the body.

2 Cit. Go, fetch fire.

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seventy-five drachmas.) A drachma was a Greek coin, the same as the Roman denier, of the value of four sesterces, 7d. ob.

3 Cit. Pluck down benches.
4 Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.

[Exeunt Citizens, with the Body. Ant. Now let it work; Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!-How now,

fellow?

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.
Ant. Where is he?
Serv. He and Lepidus are at Cæsar's house.

Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him:
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will give us any thing.

Serv. I heard hiin say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.

Ant. Belike, they had some notice of the people, How I had mov'd them. Bring me to Octavius.

[Exeunt.

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Enter CINNA, the Poet.
Cin. I dreamt to-night, that I did feast with

Cæsar,
And things unluckily charge my fantasy:
I have no will to wander forth of doors,
Yet something leads me forth.

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things unluckily charge my fantasy:) i. e. circumstances oppress my fancy with an ill-omened weight.

2 Cit. Whither are you going?
3 Cit. Where do you dwell?
4 Cit. Are you a married man, or a bachelor?
2 Cit. Answer every man directly.
i Cit. Ay, and briefly.
4 Cit. Ay, and wisely.
3 Cit. Ay, and truly, you were best.

Cin. What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a bachelor? Then to answer every man directly, and briefly, wisely, and truly. Wisely I say, I am a bachelor.

2 Cit. That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry: You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly.

Cin. Directly, I am going to Cæsar's funeral. i Cit. As a friend, or an enemy? Cin. As a friend. 2 Cit. That matter is answered directly. 4 Cit. For your dwelling,—briefly. Cin. Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. 3 Cit. Your name, sir, truly. Cin. Truly, my name is Cinna. i Cit. Tear him to pieces, he's a conspirator. Cin. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.

4 Cit. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.

2 Cit. It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.

3 Cit. Tear him, tear him. Come, brands, ho! fire-brands. To Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all. Some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away; go.

[Exeunt.

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