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Ambition fhould be made of sterner stuff.

Yet Brutus fays, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.

You all did fee, that, on the Lupercal,

I thrice presented him a kingly crown ;

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?

Yet Brutus fays, he was ambitious;

And, fure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to difprove what Brutus fpoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without caufe.

What cause with-holds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beafts,
And men have loft their reafon.-Bear with me.--
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæfar,
And I muft pause till it come back to me.

If you have tears, prepare to fhed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember,
The first time ever Cæfar put it on,

'Twas on a fummer's evening in his tent,

That day he overcame the Nervii

Look! in this place ran Caffius' dagger through ;-
See what a rent the envious Cafca made.
Through this the well-beloved Brutus ftabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his curfed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæfar follow'd it!
As rushing out of doors, to be refolv'd,
If Brutus fo unkindly knock'd, or no:

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæfar's angel.
Judge, oh ye gods! how dearly Cæfar lov'd him;
This, this was the unkindeft cut of all;
For when the noble Cæfar saw him stab,


Ingratitude, more ftrong than traitors' arms,

Quite vanquish'd him; then burft his mighty heart:
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the bafe of Pompey's ftatue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæfar fell.
Oh what a fall was there, my countrymen !

Then I and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilft bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity; thefe are gracious drops.
Kind fouls; what, weep you when you but behold
Our Cæfar's vefture wounded? look you here!
Here is himfelf, marr'd, as you fee, by traitors.-
Good friends, fweet friends, let me not ftir you up
To any fudden 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 wife and honourable;
And will, no doubt, with reafon 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 utt'rance, nor the power of speech,
To ftir men's blood; I only speak right on:

I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Shew you fweet Cæfar'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 Cæfar, that should move
The ftones of Rome to rife and mutiny.




CAS. THAT you have wrong'd me doth appear in this,

You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,

For taking bribes here of the Sardians;

Wherein my letter (praying on his fide,

Because I knew the man) was flighted of.

BRU. You wrong'd yourfelf to write in fuch a cafe.
CAS. In fuch a time as this, it is not meet
That ev'ry nice offence fhould bear its comment.
BRU. Yet let me tell you, Caffius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To fell and mart your offices for gold,
To undefervers.

CAS. I an itching palm?

You know, that you are Brutus that spake this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were elfe your laft.
BRU. The name of Caffius honours this corruption,
And chaftifement doth therefore hide its head.

CAS. Chaftifement!.

BRU. Remember March, the ides of March remember!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,

And not for juftice? What, fhall one of us,
That ftruck the foremost man of all this world,
But for fupporting robbers; fhall we now
Contaminate our fingers with bafe bribes ?


And fell the mighty meed of our large honours
For fo much trash, as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than fuch a Roman.

CAS. Brutus, bay not me,

I'll not endure it; you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a foldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

BRU. Go to; you are not, Caffius.
CAS. I am.

BRU. I fay, you are not.

CAS. Urge me no more, I fhall forget myfelf

Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther.
BRU. Away, flight man!

CAS. Is't poffible?

BRU. Hear me, for I will speak.

Muft I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

CAS. O gods! ye gods! muft I endure all this?

BRU. All this? ay more. Fret till your proud heart


Go, tell your flaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?

Muft I obferve you? must I stand and crouch

Under your tefty humour? By the gods,
You fhall digeft the venom of your spleen,

Tho' it do split you: for from this day forth,

I'll ufe you for my mirth, yea for my laughter,
When you are wafpifh.

CAS. Is it come to this?

BRU. You fay, you are a better foldier;


Let it appear fo; make your vaunting true,

And it shall please me well. For mine own part,

I fhall be glad to learn of noble men.

CAS. You wrong me every way-you wrong me,
Brutus ;

I faid, an elder foldier, not a better;

Did I fay better?


BRU. If you did, care not.

CAS. When Cæfar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd me.
BRU. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted him.
CAS. I durft not!

BRU. No.

CAS. What? durft not tempt him?

BRU. For your life you durit not.

CAS. Do not presume too much upon my love;

may do what I fhall be forry for.

BRU. You have done that you should be forry for.

There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats;

For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,

That they pafs by me, as the idle wind,

Which I respect not. I did fend to you

For certain fums of gold, which you deny'd me;
For I can raise no money by vile means:

By heav'n, I had rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peafants their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did fend

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me; was that done like Caffius?
Should I have anfwer'd Caius Caffius fo?

When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous,

To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends,



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