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answer Antony arms bear better blood bring brother Cæsar cause Cleo comes crown daughter dead dear death dost doth duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fall farewell father fear fight follow fool fortune friends give gods gone grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry hold honour hope I'll keep king lady lago Lear leave live look lord madam master means mind mother nature never night noble once peace play poor pray present prince queen rest Rich Rome SCENE Serv soldiers soul speak stand stay sweet sword tears tell thank thee thine thing thou thou art thought tongue true unto York young
239 psl. - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii : Look ! In this place ran Cassius...
425 psl. - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
234 psl. - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.
84 psl. - Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
158 psl. - A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done: perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
226 psl. - And do you now put on your best attire ? And do you now cull out a holiday ? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey 's blood? Be gone ! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
418 psl. - GHOST. I am thy father's spirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood...
435 psl. - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.