O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. —I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank. If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar’s death’s hour, nor no instrument
But here comes Antony.—Welcome, Mark Antony.
Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die. No place will please me so, no mean of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age.
Blah, blah, blah
That’s all I seek. Produce his body to the marketplace, And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral.
Sure, but you will not sway the public's mind on the matter, for I will speak first to reinforce the lies I have fed them!
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.
Mark Antony, a friend of Julius learns of his death from none other than the traitor himself. Seemingly not so bothered about his death, Antony goes on to say how everyone will die eventually and it was just Caesar's time.
Antony offers for Brutus to kill him now, if he has a grudge against him, however, Brutus denies the opportunity.
As a last request to honour his dead friend, Anthony requests to speak at Julius' funereal, Brutus agrees under the condition he speaks first.