Thou haft no figures, nor no fantafies,
Which bufy care draws in the brains of men,
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found.

Portia's Speech to Brutus.

You have ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed and yefternight, at fupper,
You fuddenly arofe and walk'd about,
Mufing, and fighing, with your arms across :
And, when I afk'd you what the matter was,
You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks:
Jurg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head,
And too impatiently ftamp'd with your foot :
Yet I infifted, yet you anfwer'd not;
But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave fign for me to leave you: fo I did;
Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience,
Which feem'd too much inkindled; and, withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which fometimes hath his hour with ev'ry man!
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep;
And, could it work fo much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I fhould not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
Calpburnia to Cæfar, on the Prodigies feen the
Night before his Death.

Cal. I never ftood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me. There is one within,
Befides the things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid fights feen by the watch.
A lionefs hath whelped in the streets; [dead:
And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
In ranks, and fquadrons, and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the capitol:
The noise of battle hurtled in the air;
Horfes did neigh, and dying men did groan:
And ghofts did fhriek,and squeal about the ftreets.
O Cæfar! thefe things are beyond all ute,
And I do fear them.

Cafar. What can be avoided,
Whofe end is purpos'd by the mighty gods?
Yet Cæfar fhall go forth: for thefe predictions
Are to the world in general, as to Cæfar.
Cal. When beggars die there are no comets feen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of
princes.

Against the Fears of Death.
Cowards die many times before their death;
The valiant never tafte of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

His Addrefs to the Confpirators.

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
Who elfe must be let blood, who else is rank:
If I myself, there is no hour fo fit

As Cæfar's death's hour! nor no inftrument
Of half that worth, as those your swords made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.
I do befeech ye, if you bear me hard, [imoke,
Now, whilft your purpled hands do reek and
Fulfil your pleafure. Live a thousand years,
I fhall not find myself so apt to die;
No place will please me fo, no mean of death,
As here by Cæfar, and by you cut off,
The choice and mafter fpirits of this age.
Revenge.

With Até by his fide, come hot from hell,
Cæfar's fpirit, ranging for revenge,

Shall in thefe confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry, "Havoc !" and let flip the dogs of war.
Antony's Funreal Oration.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your

ears ;

I am come to bury Cæfar, not to praise him!
The evil, that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæfar! The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæfar was ambitious:
If it were fo, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæfar anfwer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the reft,
(For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men)
Come I to speak in Cæfar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful amd juft to me :
But Brutus fays, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whofe ranfoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæfar feem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Cæfar hath wept;
Ambition fhould be made of fterner stuff:
Yet Brutus fays, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did fee, that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice prefented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refufe. Was this ambitious?
Yet Brutus fays, he was ambitious;
And, fure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to difprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.

It feems to me moft ftrange, that men should fear, You all did love him once, not without caufe;

Seeing that death, a neceffary end,

Will come, when it will come.

Danger.

Danger knows full well,

That Cæfar is more dangerous than he.
We are two lions litter'd in one day,
And I the elder and more terrible."

Envy.

My heart laments, that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation.

Antony to the Corpfe of Cafar.

O mighty Cæfar! doft thou lie fo low?
Are all thy conquefts, glories, triumphs, fpoils,
Shrunk to this little measure? fare thee well!

What caufe with-holds you then to mourn for
Ojudgment,thou art fled to brutish beasts, [him?
And men have loft their reafon !—Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæfar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

But yesterday the word of Cæfar might
Have flood against the world: now lies he there,
And none fo poor to do him reverence.
O mafters! if I were difpos'd to ftir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I fhould do Brutus wrong, and Caffius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather chufe

To

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong fuch honourable men.
But here 's a parchment with the feal of Cafar ;
I found it in his clofet, 'tis his will;
Let but the commons bear this teftament
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read),
And they would go and kifs dead Cæfar's wounds.
And dip their napkins in his facred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him, for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
Unto their iffue.

4 Pleb. We'll hear the will: read it, Mark
Antony.

[will. All. The will, the will; we will hear Cæfar's Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I muft not read it;

It is not meet you know how Cefar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not ftones, but men ;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cafar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
For if you thould-O, what would come of it!
4 Pleb. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony:
You shall read us the will; Cælar's will.

Ant. Will you be patient? will you ftay awhile?
I have o'eribot myfelf, to tell you of it.
I fear, I wrong the honourable men
1

Whofe daggers have ftabb'd Cæfar-I do fear it.
4Pleb. They were traitors : honourable men !
All. The will ! the tetament|

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpfe of Cæfar, And let me fhew you him that made the will. Shall I defcend? and will you give me leave? All. Come down.

2 Pleb. Defcend.

[He comes down from the pulpit. Ant. If you have tears, prepare to fhed them

now.

You all do know this mantle: I remember
The first time ever Cæfar put it on ;

'Twas on a fummer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii :—

|

|

Our Cæfar's vefture wounded? look you here! Here is himself, marr'd, as you fee, with traiters. 1 Pleb. O piteous fpectacle!

2 Pleb. We will be reveng'd: revenge; About-feek-burn-fire-kill-flay I let not a traitor live.

Ant. Good friends, fweet friends, let me not ftir you up

To fuch a fudden 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 wife, and he
nourable,

And will, no doubt, with reafons anfwer 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
That give me public leave to speak of him. [well
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, or utterance, nor the power of speech,
To ftir men's blood; I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Shew you fweet Cæfar'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 fpirits, and put a tongue
In ev'ry wound of Cæfar, that should move
The ftones of Rome to rife and mutiny.
Ceremony infincere.
-—Ever note, Lucilius,
When love begins to ficken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony.

There are no tricks in plain and fimple faith;
But hollow men, like horfes hot at hand,
Make gallant show and promife of their mettle;
But when they fhould endure the bloody fpur,
They fall their crefts, and, like deceitful jades,

Look ! in this place ranCaffius' dagger through:--For taking bribes here of the Sardians;

See what a rent the envious Cafca made ;-
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus ftabb'd;
And, as he pluck'd his curfed fteel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæfar follow'd it;
As rushing out of doors, to be refolv'd
If Brutus to unkindly knock'd, or no :
For Brutus, as you know, was Cafar's angel :
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæfar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindeft cut of all:
For, when the noble Cæfar faw him tab,
Ingratitude, more frong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquifh'd him : then burft his mighty
And, in his mantle muffling up his face, [heart;
Even at the base of Pompey's ftatue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæfar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilft bloody treafon flourish'd over us,
O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity; thefe are gracious drops.
Kind fouls! what, weep you when you but behold

Wherein my letters praying on his fide,
Because I knew the man, were flighted of. [cafe.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in fucha
Caf. In fuch a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence fhould bear his comment.
Brú. Let me tell you, Caffius, you yourfelf
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm
To fell and mart your offices for gold

To undefervers.

Caf. I an itching palm ?
You know that you are Brutus that fpeak this,
Or, by the gods, this fpeech were elfe your laft.
Bru. The name of Caffius honours this cur

ruption,

And chaftisement doth therefore hide his head.
Caf. Chaftifement !

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March re

member |

Did not great Julius bleed for juftice' fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,
And not for justice? What! hall one of us,

That

That ever penury, in contempt of man, [filth;
Brought near to beaft: my face I'll grime with
Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots;
And with prefented nakedness out-face
The winds and perfecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their num'd and mortified bare arm,
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, fprigs of rofemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, fheep-cotes and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bands, fometime with
Inforce their charity.
[pray'rs,
The Fault of Infirmity pardonable.
Fiery? the fiery duke? tell the hot duke, that-
No, but not yet:-may be, he is not well:
Infirmity doth ftill neglect all office, [felves
Whereto our health is bound; we are not our-
When nature, being oppreft, commands the mind
To fuffer with the body: I'll forbear;
And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
To take the indifpos'd and fickly fit
For the found man.

I

Rifing Paffion.

Wilful Men.

O, Sir, to witful men,

The injuries that they themselves procure
Must be their fchoolmasters.

Defcription of Lear's Distress amidst the Storm.
Kent. Where's the king?

Gent. Contending with the fretful element ;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or fwell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change, or cease: tears his
white hair,

Which the impetuous blafts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of:
Strive in his little world of man to outfcorn
The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would
The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf [couch,
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all.
Lear's paffionate Exclamations amidst the Tempeft.

Blow, wind and crack your cheeks! rage!
You cataracts, and hurricanos, fpout [blow!
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd
the cocks!

You fulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking
thunder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world !
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!

I

pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad; Rumble thy belly-full! fpit, fire! fpout, rain !' will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: 'e'll no more meet, no more fee one another. it yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter, , rather, a difeafe that's in my flesh, hich I muft needs call mine; thou art a bile, plague-fore, an imbossed carbuncle, my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee; thame come when it will, I do not call it; lo not bid the thunder-bearer fhoot,

tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
- The Neceffaries of Life few.

, reafon not the deed: our basest beggars
Le in the pooreft things fuperfluous:
ow not nature more than nature needs,
n's life is cheap as beaft's.

Lear on the Ingratitude of bis Daughters. You fee me here, you gods, a poor old man, full of grief as age; wretched in both! t be you that stir thefe daughters' hearts ainst their father, fool me not fo much bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger! et not women's weapons, water-drops,

my man's cheeks! No, you unnat ral hags, ill have fuch revenges on you both, at all the world fhall-I will do fuch things

they are, yet I know not; but they fhall be errors of the earth. You think I'll weep;

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,
never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no fubfcription. Why then let fall
Your horrible pleasure; here I ftand your flave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and defpis'd old man :-
But yet I call you fervile minilters,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high-engender'd battles, 'gainft a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

Kent. Alas, Sir, are you here! Things that
love night,

Love not fuch nights as thefe; the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, [man,
And make them keep their caves: fince I was a
Such theets of fire, fach bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot
carry

The affliction nor the fear.

Lear. Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou
wretch,

Thou haft within thee undivulged crimes,[hand
Unwhipp'd of juftice: hide thee, thou bloody
Thou perjur'd, and thou fimular man of virtue,
That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake
That under covert and convenient seeming
Haft practis'd on man's life! Clofe pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These