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Página 657 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him: The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar.
Página 656 - Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude , that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Página 632 - Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Página 667 - Julius bleed for justice' sake ? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
Página 655 - Caesar, this is my answer : — Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all...
Página 442 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops : I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Página 410 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.
Página 660 - Pompey's statue (Which all the while ran blood), great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourished over us ! O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel The dint of pity. These are gracious drops. Kind souls ! What ! weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here ! Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors.
Página 658 - But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world: now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.