le Brutus
Thorough the hazards of this untrod state
With all true faith. So says my master Antony.

BRUTUS. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman;
I never thought him worse. 140
Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be satisfied, and, by my honour,
Depart untouch'd.

SERVANT. I'll fetch him presently. [_Exit_]

BRUTUS. I know that we shall have him well to friend.

CASSIUS. I wish we may: but yet have I a mind 145
That fears him much, and my misgiving still
Falls shrewdly to the purpose.

[Note 132: /resolv'd/: informed. This meaning is probably
connected with the primary one of 'loosen,' 'set free,'
through the idea of setting free from perplexity. 'Resolve'
continued to be used in the sense of 'inform' and 'answer'
until the beginning of the nineteenth century. Shakespeare
uses the word in the three main senses of (1) 'relax,'
'dissolve,' _Hamlet_, I, ii, 130; (2) 'inform,' as here; and
(3) 'determine,' _3 Henry VI_, III, iii, 219.]

[Note 137: /Thorough/. Shakespeare uses 'through' or
'thorough' indifferently, as suits his verse. The two are but
different forms of the same word. 'Thorough,' the adjective,
is later than the preposition.]

[Note 141: /so please him come/: provided that it please him
to come. 'So' is used with the future and subjunctive to
denote 'provided that.']

[Note 146-147: /still Falls shrewdly to the purpose/: always
comes cleverly near the mark. See Skeat under 'shrewd' and
'shrew.']

[Page 91]

_Re-enter_ ANTONY

BRUTUS. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.

ANTONY. O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 150
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 155
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,
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 160
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.

[Note 148: Scene