Antony.—Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.
Citizens.—Stand back; room; bear back.
Antony.—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-belovèd Brutus stabbed; And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him! 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, 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 you here, Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors.
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Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable;— What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it;—they are wise and honorable, 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 public 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.
All.—We'll mutiny.
1 Citizen.—We'll burn the house of Brutus.
3 Citizen.—Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.
Antony.—Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.
All.—Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony.
Antony.—Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not!—I must tell you, then. You have forgot the will I told you of.