Mark Antony

You gentle Romans. Gentle Romans, hear me. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! I come to *bury* Caesar, 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 Caesar.

Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man.

When Caesar says "do this," it is performed.

That's all I seek, and am moreover suitor that I may produce his body to the marketplace, and in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, speak in the order of his funeral.

O mighty Caesar, dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.

Let slip the dogs of war.

Woe 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 limbs of men. Domestic fury and fierce civil strife shall cumber all the parts of Italy. Blood and destruction shall be so in use, and dreadful objects so familiar, that mothers shall but *smile* when they behold their infants quartered with the hands of war! All pity *choked* with custom of fell deed. And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, with Ate by his side come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch's voice cry "*Havoc!*"

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 lived in the tide of times.

I fear I wrong the honorable men whose daggers have stabbed Caesar.

O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason!

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 loved 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 Caesar'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 Caesar that should move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny!

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.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle. I remember the first time ever Caesar put it on. It was 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 Caesar followed it, as rushing out of doors, to be resolved if Brutus so unkindly knocked or no. For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel! Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all! For when the noble Caesar 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 Caesar 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!

Why, friends, you go to do you know not what! Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your love? Alas, you know not! I must tell you then. You have forgot the will I told you of. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, to every several man, 75 drachmas!

This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators save only he, did what they did in envy of great Caesar. He only, in a general honest thought, and common will for all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him that the nature might stand up and say to all the world, "This was a man."