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Achilles Æno Ajax anſwer Antony arms bear better blood bring brother Brutus Cæfar Cæſar Caffius Caſca Changes Char Cleo Clot comes dead dear death doth Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall Farewel fear fight firſt follow fool fortune friends give gods gone Guid hand hath head hear heart Hector himſelf hold honour I'll Italy keep King Lady leave live look Lord Madam Mark matter mean meet moſt muſt myſelf never night noble once peace Pleb Poft poor pray Prince Queen Roman Rome ſay SCENE ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſpeak ſtand ſtrong ſuch ſweet ſword tell tent thee Ther there's theſe thing thoſe thou thought Troi Troilus true What's whoſe worthy
19 psl. - It must be by his death: and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crown'd: How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking.
47 psl. - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood : I only speak right on...
46 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...
55 psl. - Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces! Cas. I denied you not. Bru. You did. Cas. I did not: he was but a fool that brought My answer back.
42 psl. - CAESAR'S body. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not?
47 psl. - I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
45 psl. - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
279 psl. - But when the planets, In evil mixture, to disorder wander, What plagues, and what portents ! what mutiny ! What raging of the sea! shaking of earth! Commotion in the winds ! frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture...