We may now imagine the portico of Pompey's temple: it is crowded by the conspirators and others: Brutus, Cassius, and Casca, hastening onward before Cæsar, join them a few minutes before his arrival: as Cæsar approaches, he observes, and speaks to the soothsayer, whose reply is, that the ides of March are come, but are not gone. Artemidorus gives a paper to Cæsar-Trebonius, fearing its contents, offers another: Artemidorus speaks: [Artemidorus.] Cæsar, read mine first: for mine's a suit That touches Cæsar nearest: read it, Cæsar.

[Cæsar.] What touches us ourself, shall be last serv'd.
[Artemidorus.] Delay not, Cæsar: read it instantly.
[Cæsar.] What! urge you your petitions in the street?

Popilius, a senator, whispers Cassius, and passes on.
[Popilius.] I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.
[Brutus.] What said Popilius Lena to you, Cassius ?
[Cassius.] I fear our purpose is discover'd, Brutus:

He wish'd that we might thrive: he makes to Cæsar.
Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,
Cassius or Cæsar never shall turn back;
For I will slay myself.

[Brutus.] Cassius, be constant:

Popilius Lena speaks not of our purpose;

For look, he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change.

[Cassius.] Trebonius knows his time; for look you, Brutus, He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

[Brutus.] Where is Metellus Cimber? let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar.

[Cassius.] He is prepar'd: press near, and second him : Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

Metellus petitions Cæsar as he enters the senate: the other conspirators press round him, and in this manner they

all enter along with Cæsar-we may still imagine we stand in the portico :-there is the usual silence for a few minutes within: but suddenly there is a cry of horror; then a shout is heard; and Cinna, a conspirator, rushes with a bloody dagger into the portico:

[Cinna.] Liberty! freedom!-Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. People and senators,-be not affrighted :

Fly not; stand still; ambition's debt is paid.

The other conspirators issue into the portico, and are met by Trebonius, whom Brutus addresses:

[Brutus.] Trebonius, where is Antony?

[Trebonius.] Fled to his house amaz'd:

Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run,
As it were doomsday.

[Brutus.] Fates, we will know your pleasures;

Now 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!
Yet pause a moment: here comes one in haste,
Whom I remember as a friend of Antony's.
Would you say aught with me?

[Servant.] Ay, noble Brutus.

Mark Antony, my master, bade me kneel,
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:
If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony
May safely come to him, and be resolv'd
How Cæsar hath deserv'd 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
With all true faith: so says my master Antony.

[Brutus.] 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 mine honour,
Depart untouch'd.

I knew, Cassius,

I knew that we should have him well to friend.

[Cassius.] I wish we may; but yet I have a mind Misgives me much.

We may imagine that Brutus and the rest re-enter the senate-house to wait for Antony: Antony arrives, and we enter with him: the body of Cæsar is prostrate before us : Antony sees it, and speaks:

[Antony.] O mighty Cæsar! dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, triumphs, glories, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure? fare thee well,-
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-hour; and no instruments
Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.

I do beseech you, if you bear me hard,

Now, while your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die.

[Brutus.] O Antony! beg not your death of us.
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful;
And pity for the general wrong of Rome
Hath done this deed on Cæsar. For your part,
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony.
Only be patient till we have appeas'd

The multitude, beside themselves with fear,

And then we will deliver you the cause

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

[Antony.] 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 ;-
Decimus, yours; next give me yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna;-and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
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 more than e'en thy death,
To see thy Antony making his peace,

While yet thy corse is warm and bleeding, Cæsar?
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 death.
[Cassius.] Mark Antony,

[Antony ] Pardon me, Caius Cassius:

The enemies of Cæsar shall say this;
Then, in a friend, it is cold moderation.
[Cassius.] I blame you not for praising Cæsar so:
But say, what compact will you have with us?
Will you be rank'd in number of our friends?
Or shall we on and not depend on you?

[Antony.] Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed,
Sway'd from the point by looking down on Cæsar.
Friends am I with you all, and love you all,
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons
Why, and wherein, Cæsar was dangerous.

[Brutus.] Or else this were a savage spectacle:
Our reasons are so full of good regard,
That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar,
You should be satisfied.

Antony.] That's all I ask :

And am, moreover, suitor, that I may
Produce his body in the market-place;

And, in the rostrum, as becomes a friend,
Speak in the order of his funeral.

[Brutus.] You shall, Mark Antony.

[Cassius, in a low tone.] Brutus, a word with you,—
Do not consent; you know not what you do:
You think not how the people may be mov'd
By that which he shall utter.

:

[Brutus, in a low tone.] By your pardon :-
I will myself into the rostrum first,
And show the reason of our Cæsar's death:
What Antony shall speak, I will protest
He speaks by leave and by permission;
And that we are contented, Cæsar shall
Have all due rites and lawful ceremonies.
It shall advantage more than do us wrong.
[aloud.] Mark Antony,

You shall not in your funeral speech blame us;
But speak all good you can devise of Cæsar,
And say you do 't by our permission:
Else shall you not have any hand at all
About his funeral and you shall speak
In the same rostrum whereto I am going,
After my speech is ended.

[Brutus.] Prepare the body, then, and follow us.

[a pause.]

[Antony.] O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever liv'd upon the tide of time.

Wo to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,-
A curse shall light upon the line of men: