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And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

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Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's.

Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!

He gave his honours to the world again,

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Activ. Sc. 2.

His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.

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He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading :
Lofty, and sour, to them that loved him not;
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.

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One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,

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I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but for my single self,

I had as lief not be, as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

Dar'st thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood,

Acti. Sc. 2.

And swim to yonder point?—Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Ye gods, it doth amaze me,

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world,
Like a Colossus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates;
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights;
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit,
That could be moved to smile at any thing. Acti. Sc. 2.

But, for mine own part, it was Greek to me. Act i. Sc. 2.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
He says he does; being then most flattered.

You are my true and honourable wife,

As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.

Act . Sc. I.

Act ii. Sc. I.

When beggars die, there are no comets seen ;

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of

princes.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Cowards die many times before their deaths;

The valiant never taste of death but once. Act ii. Sc. 2.

But I am constant as the northern star,

Of whose true-fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.

Act iii. Sc. I.

The choice and master spirits of this age. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Though last, not least, in love.

Act iii. Sc. I.

Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.

Act iii. Sc. I.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my

cause; and be silent, that you may hear.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome

more.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.

Act iii. Sc. 2:

The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.

For Brutus is an honourable man ;

Act iii. Sc. 2.

So are they all, all honourable men.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept ;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

See, what a rent the envious Casca made! Act iii. Sc. 2.

This was the most unkindest cut of all.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Great Cæsar fell.

O what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Act iii. Sc. 2.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;

I am no orator, as Brutus is.

I only speak right on.

Put a tongue

In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.

Activ. Sc. 2.

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