And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.
The torrent roared, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Cæsar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.
1, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly;
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose its lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried-Give me some drink, Titinius-
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestick world,
And bear the palm alone.
Bru. Another general shout!
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heaped on Cæsar.
Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus: and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at sometimes are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cæsar-what should be in that Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded, more than your's?
Write them together; your's is as fair a name:
Sound them; it doth become the mouth as well:
Weigh them; it is as heavy: conjure with 'em;
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once.
Upon what meats doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed:
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,
That her wide walks encompassed but one man?
O! you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once, that would have brooked
The eternal devil, to keep his state in Rome,
As easily as a king.
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous :
What you would work me to, I have some aim:
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter: for this present,
I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
Be any further moved. What you have said,
I will consider; what you have to say,
I will with patience hear, and find a time
Both meet to hear, and answer, such high things.
"Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this;
Brutus had rather be a villager,
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under such hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
Cas. I am glad that my weak words
Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus,
Address of Brutus to the Romans, justifying his assassination of Cæsar.-IBID.
ROMANS, Countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him, I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen?
As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was for
tunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears, for his love; joy, for his fortune; honour, for his valour; and death, for his ambition.-Who's here so base that would be a bondman? if any, speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? if any, speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? if any, speak; for him have I offended.-I pause for a reply
None! Then none have I offended.-I have done no more to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive-the benefit of his dying-a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not?-With this I depart; that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Antony's Address to the Romans, exciting them to revenge the death of Caesar.-IBID.
FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil, that men do, lives after them:
The good is oft interred with their bones:
So let it be with Cæsar! The noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault :-
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man,
So are they all, all honourable men ;)
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.-
He was my friend, faithful and just to me :
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus, is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown;
Which he did thrice refuse.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
And sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason.-Bear with me:
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar;
And I must pause till it come back to me.
But yesterday the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O Masters! If I were disposed 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 Cæsar;
I found it in his closet: 'tis his will.
Let but the commons hear this testament,
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,)
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins 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,
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 stabbed;
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it!
This was the most unkindest* cut of all!
For, when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquished him! Then burst his mighty heart:
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,f
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 flourished over us.
O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity:-these are gracious drops.
Kind souls! What, weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look ye here!-
Here is himself-marred, as you see, by traitors.
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 reason 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
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
This double superlative, like "the most straitest sect of our religion," (Acts xxvi. 5.) was tolerated by the best English writers, two or three centuries ago.
+ Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers.
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