Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bru. Bru.
Bru. But heere comes Antony:
Bru. Welcome Mark Antony.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lye so lowe?
Ant. Are all thy Conquests, Glories, Triumphes, Spoiles,
Ant. Shrunke to this little Measure? Fare thee well.
Ant. I know not Gentlemen what you intend,
Ant. Who else must be let blood, who else is ranke:
Ant. If I my selfe, there is no houre so fit
Ant. As Cæsars deaths houre; nor no Instrument
Ant. Of halfe that worth, as those your Swords; made rich
Ant. With the most Noble blood of all this World.
Ant. I do beseech yee, if you beare me hard,
Ant. Now, whil'st your purpled hands do reeke and smoake,
Ant. Fulfill your pleasure. Liue a thousand yeeres,
Ant. I shall not finde my selfe so apt to dye.
Ant. No place will please me so, no meane of death,
Ant. As heere by Cæsar, and by you cut off,
Ant. The Choice and Master Spirits of this Age.