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3. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him ; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
4. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death—for his ambition. Who's here so base, that he would be a bondman? If any,--speak; for him have I offended.
5. Who's here so rude, that he would not be a Roman? If, any,-speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that he will not love his country? If any,--speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply
6. None? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. And, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I reserve the same dagger for myself, whenever it shall please my country to need my death.
ANTONY'S SPEECH OVER THE BODY OF CÆSAR.
FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN,
me your ears :
2. Noble Brutus
3. He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
4. When that the poor hath cried, Cæsar hath wept :
5. You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,
6. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke;
7. Bear with me :
8. O masters ! If I were disposed to stir
9. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar ;
10. 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,
11. “This, this was the unkindest cut of all.
12. O what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down; Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 0, now you weep; and I perceive you feel The dint of pity !—These are gracious drops. Kind souls! What, weep you
but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded ? Look
here ! Here is himself-marred, as you see, by traitors.
13. Good friends! Sweet friends! Let me not stir you up
14. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts !
15. I only speak right on;
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
ROLLA AND ALONZO.
Enter Rolla, disguised as a monk. Rolla. INFORM me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, confined in this dungeon ?
Sentinel. He is.
Rol. (Advancing towards the door.) Soldier-I must speak with him.
Sent. (Pushing him back with his gun.) Back ! back ! it is impossible.
Rol. I do entreat you but for one moment.
Rol. Look on this wedge of massy gold! Look on these precious gems ! In thy land they will be wealth for thee and thine beyond thy hope or wish. Take them; they are thine :- let me but pass one moment with Alonzo.
Sent. Away! Wouldst thou corrupt me? Me, an old Castilian ! -I know my duty better.
Rol. Soldier, hast thou a wife?
Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was born.
Rol Dost thou love thy wife and children ?
Sent. Do I love them? God knows my heart, - I do.
Rol. Soldier, imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in a strange land—What would be thy last request ?
Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying blessing to my wife and children.
Rol. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and should there be told, thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife, what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door ?
Rol. Alonzo has a wife and child ; and I am come but to receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my friend.
Sent. Go in. (Erit sentinel.)
(Enter Alonzo, speaking as he conies in.)
Rol. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; now take it thou, and fly.
Alon. And Rolla-
Alon. And die for me ! No! Rather eternal tortures rack me.
Rol. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not Rolla's; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a father ; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go, go, Alonzo; not to save thyself, but Cora and thy child.
Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend—I am prepared to die „n peace.
Rol. To die in peace; devoting her you've sworn to live for to madness, misery and death!
Alon. Merciful heavens !