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Seite 111 - 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...
Seite 51 - 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.
Seite 105 - 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 ? With this I depart ; That, as I slew my bes't lover" for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Seite 19 - Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And, when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake...
Seite 104 - Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : — Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Seite 110 - Caesar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
Seite 115 - Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar: When comes such another? 1 Cit. Never, never: — Come away, away: We'll burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire the traitors
Seite 100 - O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers; Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood ! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy (Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips, To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue...