Cæs. Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Cæsar! [Dies. Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out 80 'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement !'

Bru. People and senators, be not affrighted; Fly not; stand still: ambition's debt is paid. Casca. Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

Dec.

Bru. Where's Publius?

And Cassius too.

Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend of Cæsar's

Should chance

Bru. Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer;
There is no harm intended to your person,
Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.
Cas. And leave us, Publius; lest that the
people,

Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.
Bru. Do so: and let no man abide this deed
But we the doers.

90

Tre. Fled to his house amazed:

Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run

As it were doomsday.

77. Et tu, Brute! These words, though not clearly traceable to a classical source, were assigned by popular tradition in Shakespeare's day to the dying Cæsar, a consideration which apparently overcame Shakespeare's habitual avoidance of Latin scraps. They are found (1) in the True Tragedie of

Richard, Duke of York, where Edward appeals to the hostile Clarence with 'Et tu, Brute, wilt thou stab Cæsar too?' (2) in Nicholson's Acolastus' After Wit (1600), where the same line is quoted.

80. the common pulpits, the public platforms.

Bru. Fates, we will know your pleasures: That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
So are we Cæsar's friends, that have abridged
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,
And let us bathe our hands in Cæsar's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords :
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

Cas. Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages
hence

Shall this our lofty scene be acted over

In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

Bru. How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey's basis lies along

No worthier than the dust!

Cas.

So oft as that shall be,

So often shall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.
Dec. What, shall we forth?
Cas.
Brutus shall lead;, and we will grace his heels
With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.

Ay, every man away:

Enter a Servant.

Bru. Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's.

100. stand upon, concern

themselves about.

101, 102. Ff give this speech to Casca (Cask.'), but he takes part nowhere else in the discussion of the leaders. Pope first gave it to Cassius.

115. on Pompey's basis, at the base of Pompey's statue. This was the actual scene of the murder, according to Plutarch. Shakespeare appears to assume that it was by the Capitol.

F

Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel;

Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down;
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
Cæsar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:
Say I love Brutus and I honour him;
Say I fear'd Cæsar, honour'd him and loved him.
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
May safely come to him, and be resolved
How Cæsar hath deserved to lie in death,
Mark Antony shall not love Cæsar dead
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
Thorough the hazards of this untrod state
With all true faith. So says my master Antony.
Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman ;
I never thought him worse.

Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be satisfied, and, by my honour,
Depart untouch'd.

Serv.

I'll fetch him presently. [Exit.

Bru. I know that we shall have him well to

friend.

Cas. I wish we may: but yet have I a mind That fears him much, and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose.

Bru. But here comes Antony.

Re-enter ANTONY.

Welcome, Mark Antony.

Ant. O mighty Cæsar! dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,

130

140

purpose, comes wondrous near the mark,' is pretty closely fulfilled.

F

Shrunk to this little measure?

Fare thee well.

150

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,

Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:

If I myself, there is no hour so fit

As Cæsar's death's hour, nor no instrument

Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,

Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,

Fulfil your pleasure.

Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die:
No place will please me so, no mean of death,
As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirits of this age.

Bru. O Antony, beg not your death of us.
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As, by our hands, and this our present act,
You see we do, yet see you but our hands
And this the bleeding business they have done :
Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome-
As fire drives out fire, so pity pity-
Hath done this deed on Cæsar.

For your part,

To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony :

in

Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts
Of brothers' temper, do receive you
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's
In the disposing of new dignities.

Bru. Only be patient till we have appeased
The multitude, beside themselves with fear,

152. rank, morbidly fullblooded.

174. in strength of malice,

160

170

180

nerved with the hatred just displayed towards Cæsar, but which is innocuous to Antony.

And then we will deliver you the cause

Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him,
Have thus proceeded.

Ant.

I doubt not of your wisdom.

Let each man render me his bloody hand:
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus ;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Tre-
bonius.

Gentlemen all,-alas, what shall I say?

My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.

That I did love thee, Cæsar, O, 'tis true:

If then thy spirit look upon us now,

Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most 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.
Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd, brave
hart;

Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.
O world, thou wast the forest to this hart;
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.

181. deliver, relate to.
196. dearer, more deeply.
204. bay'd, driven to bay.
206. Sign'd in thy spoil,
bearing the badge or brand of
Cæsar's ruin, i.e. stained with

190

200

his blood. Hunters customarily stained their hands with the blood of the slain deer.

206. lethe, slaughter (Lat. 'letum,' often spelt 'lethum,' death, especially violent death).