_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 honorable:
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise, and honorable,
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 your 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.

_All._ We'll mutiny!

_1 Ple._ We'll burn the house of Brutus.

_3 Ple._ Away, then! Come, seek the conspirators.

_Ant._ Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

_All._ Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony.

_Ant._ Why, friends, you go to do you know not what.
Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserv'd your loves?
Alas! you know not!--I must tell you then.
You have forgot the will I told you of.

_Ple._ 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.

_2 Ple._ Most noble Cæsar!--we'll revenge his death.

_3 Ple._ O royal Cæsar!

_Ant._ Hear me with patience.

_All._ Peace, ho!

_Ant._ Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs forever, common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cæsar! When comes such another?