Puslapio vaizdai


Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;
It is not meet you know how Cæfar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæfar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
'Tis good you know not, that you are his heirs ;
For if you should, O what would come of it?

Read the will, we will hear it, Antony; &c.



you be patient? will you stay a while?

I have o'erfhot myself, to tell you of it.

I fear, I wrong the honourable men,

Whofe daggers have ftabb'd Cæfar. I do fear it,

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You will compel me then to read the will?
Then make a ring about the corps of Cæfar,
And let me fhew you him, that made the will.
Shall I defcend? and will you give me leave?

Come down.

3. PLE



You fhall have leave.


you have tears, prepare to shed 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 overcome the Nervii.

Look! in this place, ran Caffius' dagger through;
See, what a rent the envious Cafca made;
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his curfed fteel away,
Mark, how the blood of Cæfar follow'd it!

As rufhing out of doors, to be refolv'd,
If Brutus fo unkindly knock'd, or no :

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel,
Judge, oh you gods! how dearly Cæfar lov'd him;
This was the most unkindeft cut of all ;

For when the noble Cæfar faw him ftab,

Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,

Quite vanquifh'd him; then burst 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.

O what

O 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; these are gracious drops.

Kind fouls! what, weep you when you but behold
Our Cæfar's vefture wounded? look you here!
Here is himself, marr'd, as you fee, by traitors.


O piteous fpectacle !


Good friends, fweet friends, let me not ftir you up
To fuch a 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 reasons answer you.

I come not, friends, to fteal 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 give 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 mens blood; I only speak right on.

I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Shew you fweet Cæfar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb


And bid them fpeak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your fpirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæfar, that fhould move
The ftones of Rome to rife and mutiny.

We'll mutiny.



Why, friends, you go to do you know not what.
Wherein hath Cæfar thus deserv❜d your loves?
Alas! you know not. I must not tell you then.
You have forgot the will I told you of.


Moft true, the will.-Let's ftay, and hear the wilk.


Here is the will, and under Cæfar's feal.

To ev'ry Roman citizen he gives,

To ev'ry fev'ral man, fev'nty-five drachma's.


Moft noble Cæfar!


Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,

His private arbours, and new-planted orchards,
On that fide Tiber; he hath left them you,

And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæfar!

Is there any oration extant in which the topics are more fkilfully felected for the minds and temper of the perfons to whom it is fpoken? Does it not by the most gentle gradations arrive at the point to which it was directed? Antony first fooths his audience by affuring them, that Cæfar loved the poor, and fympathized with their dif treffes by reminding them, that he had rejected the proffered crown, he removes, from their fhallow understandings, all apprehenfion of that ambition in him which the conspirators alledged as the motive of their act: after these managements he proceeds further, and tells them of the will. There is a delicate touch in the obfervation, that Cæfar received the mortal wound in the very mantle he wore the day in which he had gained a victory over the Nervii, the fiercest


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