He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse.

Was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without cause;

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason! — Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,

And I must pause, till it come back to me.

1 Cit. Methinks, there is much reason in his sayings.

2 Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,

Cæsar has had great wrong.

3 Cit.

Has he, masters?

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

4 Cit. Marked ye his words? He would not take the crown, Therefore, 'tis certain, he was not ambitious.

1 Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

2 Cit. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

3 Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome, than Antony. 4 Cit. 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 will 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 Cit.

Cit.

Ant.

We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony.
The will, the will; we will hear Cæsar's will.
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 would come of it!

4 Cit. 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.
They were traitors: Honourable men!

4 Cit. Cit.

The will! the testament!

2 Cit. 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 corse of Cæsar, And let me show you him that made the will.

Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?

1 Cit.

Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. 2 Cit. Room for Antony; -most noble Antony. Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

Cit.

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 overcome 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 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.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle!

2 Cit.

fire,

We will be revenged: revenge; about, seek, — burn,

Ant.

1 Cit.

slay!-let not a traitor live.

Stay, countrymen.

2 Cit. 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.

Cit.

1 Cit.

3 Cit.

Ant.

1 Cit.

We'll mutiny.

We'll burn the house of Brutus.

Away then, come, seek the conspirators.

Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony.

Ant. 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.

Cit. Most true; the will; - let's stay, and hear the will.

Ant. Here is the will, and under Cæsar's seal.

To every Roman citizen he gives,

To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbors, and new planted orchards,

On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæsar: When comes such another?
1 Cit Never, never: — Come, away, away;
We'll burn his body in the holy place,
And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
Take up the body.

Ant. Now let it work: Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!

RIENZI TO THE ROMANS.

Friends!

From "Rienzi."— Mary Russell Mitford.

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves!
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave: not such as, swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame,
But base, ignoble slaves!- slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots; lords,

Rich in some dozen paltry villages;

Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great

In that strange spell-a name! Each hour, dark fraud,
Or open rapine, or protected murder,

Cry out against them. But this very day,

An honest man, my neighbor, there he stands,

Was struck struck like a dog, by one who wore

The badge of Ursini! because, forsooth,
He tossed not high his ready cap in air,
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men,
And suffer such dishonor?

The stain away in blood?

Men, and wash not
Such shames are common.

I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye,
I had a brother once, a gracious boy,

Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope,

Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look

Of Heaven upon his face,

To the beloved disciple.

which limners give
How I loved

That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,

Brother at once and son!

He left my side,

A summer bloom on his fair cheeks

- a smile

Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour,