Shall it not grieve thee dearer[72] than thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
200Most noble! in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
205Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd,[73] brave hart;[74]