1 Pleb. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. 2 Pleb. If thou consider rightly of the matter,

Cæsar has had great wrong.

3 Pleb.

Has he, masters?

I fear, there will a worse come in his place.

4 Pleb. Marked ye his words? He would not take the crown:

Therefore, 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

1 Pleb. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. 2 Pleb. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

3 Pleb. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. 4 Pleb. Now mark him! he begins again to speak. Ant. 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 would 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,

Unto their issue.

4 Pleb. We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. All. The will, the will; we will hear Cæsar's will. Ant. Have patience, gentle friends; I must not read it:

It is not meet you know how Cæsar loved you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men:
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar,
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 will come of it?

4 Pleb. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony: You shall read us the will-Cæsar's will!

Ant. Will you be patient? will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it:

I fear I wrong the honourable men,

Whose daggers have stabbed Cæsar: I do fear it. 4 Pleb. They were traitors. Honourable men! All. The will! the testament!

2 Pleb. They were villains-murderers! The will! read the will!

Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the will?
Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar,
And let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend! and will you give me leave?
All. Come down.

2 Pleb. Descend.

[He comes down from the pulpit.

3 Pleb. You shall have leave.

4 Pleb. A ring! stand round!

1 Pleb. Stand from the hearse! stand from the body! 2 Pleb. Room for Antony! most noble Antony! Ant. Nay, press not so upon me: stand far off. All. Stand back! room! bear back!

Ant. 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;
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 statue,

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.
1 Pleb. O piteous spectacle!

2 Pleb. O noble Cæsar!

3 Pleb. O woeful day!
4 Pleb. O traitors! villains!
1 Pleb. O most bloody sight!

2 Pleb. We will be revenged! Revenge! AboutSeek-burn-fire-kill-slay-let not a traitor live! Ant. Stay, countrymen.

1 Pleb. Peace, there! Hear the noble Antony. 2 Pleb. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.

Ant. 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 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.

SHAKSPERE.

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.

ACT I., SCENE 3.

Venice.-A Council Chamber.

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.

[Exeunt two or three.

Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the

place.

And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.

[Exit IAGO.

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still questioned me the story of my life,

From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have passed.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it,
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth 'scapes, i' the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, deserts idle,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whose heads touched heaven,

It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
And of the Cannibals that each other eat;

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,

She'd come again, and with a greedy ear

Devour up my discourse. Which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively. I did consent;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke,
That my youth suffered. My story being done,
She gave me, for my pains, a world of sighs:
She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing
strange: