Shakespeare's tragedy of Julius Caesar

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American Book Company, 1900 - 199 pages
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Page 87 - Who, you all know, are honourable men : I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men.
Page 84 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my cause ; and be silent, that you may hear : believe me for mine honour ; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Page 76 - I could be well mov'd if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me; But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.
Page 90 - And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 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...
Page 100 - You say you are a better soldier : Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well : for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong me, Brutus ; I said, an elder soldier, not a better : Did I say ' better
Page 43 - We both have fed as well; and we can both Endure the winter's cold, as well as he. For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point ? — Upon the word, Accouter'd as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow; so, indeed, he did.
Page 86 - Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man.
Page 38 - Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome : And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, . Made in her concave shores...
Page 90 - 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; 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.
Page 82 - And Caesar'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 ; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.

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