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ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Grand Apartment in the House of Brutus.
BRUTUS, ANTONY.
BRUTUS.
URGE it no more—I am fix'd.
ANTONY.
Think wiselier Brutus
BRUTUS.
Consul! when bold Oppression grapples Law,
Men, who protect the Oppressor, stab the State.
ANTONY.
Men, who so roughly dare Mischarge their Lord,
Pretending Liberty, pursue but Pride.
BRUTUS.
Caesar, however rais'd, is less than Lord.
ANTONY.
Caesar however wrong'd, is more than Friend:
Even Gratitude has made Respect, a Duty:
Present, or absent Thou—the Tribes will crown him.
BRUTUS.
Crown? whom?
ANTONY.
One, whom if Brutus knew but rightly,
BRUTUS.
I fear I do!