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Brutus

To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony.
Our arms no strength of malice, and our hearts
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.

Cassius

Your voice shall be as strong as any man's
In the disposing of new dignities.

Brutus

Only be patient till we have appeased
The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
And then we will deliver you the cause
Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him,
Have thus proceeded.

Antony

Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed
Sway'd from the point by looking down on Caesar.
Friends am I with you all, and love you all,
Upon this hope: that you shall give me reasons
Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.

Brutus

Or else were this a savage spectacle.
Our reasons are so full of good regard
That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,
You should be satisfied.

Brutus

I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crowned —
How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder,
And that craves wary walking. Crown him that,
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
Remorse from power, and — to speak truth of Caesar —
I have not known when his affections swayed
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.
Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities;
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg —
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous —
And kill him in the shell.

Cassius

And let us swear our resolution.

Brutus

No, not an oath.  If not the face of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse —
If these be motives weak, break off betimes,
And every man hence to his idle bed;
So let high-sighted tyranny range on,
Till each man drop by lottery. But if these — 
As I am sure they do — bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to steel with valor
The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen,
What need we any spur but our own cause,
To prick us to redress?  What other bond
Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,
And will not palter? And what other oath
Than honesty to honesty engaged,
That this shall be, or we will fall for it?

Brutus

You are my true and honorable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.

Portia

If this were true, then should I know this secret.
I grant I am a woman; but withal
A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife.
I grant I am a woman; but withal
A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.
Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
Being so fathered and so husbanded?
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose ‘em.

Flavius

Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort.
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
[Exit all the Commoners.]
See whe’er their basest mettle be not moved;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
This way will I. Disrobe the images,

Flavius

Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault,
Assemble all the poor men of your sort.
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

Flavius

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

Cobbler

Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl.  I meddle
with no tradesman's matters, nor women’s matters, but
with all. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when
they are in great danger I recover them. As proper men
as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my
handiwork.

Marullus

But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

Cobbler

A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe
conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

Marullus

What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

Cobbler

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,
if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

Marullus

What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow!

Cobbler

Why, sir, cobble you.

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