Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ant. And will no doubt with Reasons answer you.
Ant. I come not (Friends) to steale away your hearts,
Ant. I am no Orator, as Brutus is:
Ant. But (as you know me all) a plaine blunt man
Ant. That loue my Friend, and that they know full well,
Ant. That gaue me publike leaue to speake of him:
Ant. For I haue neyther writ nor words, nor worth,
Ant. Action, nor Vtterance, nor the power of Speech,
Ant. To stirre mens Blood. I onely speake right on:
Ant. I tell you that, which you your selues do know,
Ant. Shew you sweet Cæsars wounds, poor poor dum mouths
Ant. And bid them speake for me: But were I Brutus,
Ant. And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Ant. Would ruffle vp your Spirits, and put a Tongue
Ant. In euery Wound of Cæsar, that should moue
Ant. The stones of Rome, to rise and Mutiny.
All. All.
All. Wee'l Mutiny.
1 1
1 Wee'l burne the house of Brutus.