Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,—
Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips,260
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,—
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;264
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war,—
All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds;269
And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war;278
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
Enter Octavius' Servant.
You serve Octavius Cæsar, do you not?276
Serv. I do, Mark Antony.
Ant. Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome.
Serv. He did receive his letters, and is coming;
And bid me say to you by word of mouth—280
O Cæsar!—
Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep.
Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes,
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,284
Began to water. Is thy master coming?
268 quarter'd: hewn into pieces
269 custom . . . deeds: the mere frequency of cruel actions
271 Ate: goddess of discord
272 confines: regions
273 Havoc: the signal for killing without sparing
let slip: unleash
dogs of war; cf. n.
274 That: so that
275 With rotting corpses, too numerous for the burial that they grievously demand
283 Passion: emotion
