Let him go up into the public chair.We’ll hear him.—Noble Antony, go up.
Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile?I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it.I fear I wrong the honorable menWhose daggers have stabbed Caesar. I do fear it.
Have patience, gentle friends. I must not read it.It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar,It will inflame you, it will make you mad.'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs.For, if you should—Oh, what would come of it!