All of Shakespeare’s plays. More…
Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.
Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?
What, Brutus!
I must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance and first decree Into the law of children. Be not fond, To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood That will be thaw'd from the true quality With ...
Are we all ready? What is now amiss That Caesar and his senate must redress?
What, is the fellow mad?
What touches us ourself shall be last served.
To the Soothsayer The ides of March are come.
Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me; And we, like friends, will straightway go together.
Bid them prepare within: I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius! I have an hour's talk in store for you; Remember that you call on me to-day: Be near me, that I may remember you.
I thank you for your pains and courtesy. Enter ANTONY See! Antony, that revels long o' nights, Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony.
Welcome, Publius. What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too? Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy As that same ague which hath made you lean. What is 't o'clock?
How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. Enter PUBLIUS, BRUTUS, LIGARIUS, METELLUS, CASCA, TREBONIUS, and CINNA And look where Publius is come to fetch me.
And this way have you well expounded it.
The cause is in my will: I will not come; That is enough to satisfy the senate. But for your private satisfaction, Because I love you, I will let you know: Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home: She dreamt to-night she saw my statua, Which, like a fountain ...
Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth? Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.
And you are come in very happy time, To bear my greeting to the senators And tell them that I will not come to-day: Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser: I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius.
Mark Antony shall say I am not well, And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. Enter DECIUS BRUTUS Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.
The gods do this in shame of cowardice: Caesar should be a beast without a heart, If he should stay at home to-day for fear. No, Caesar shall not: danger knows full well That Caesar is more dangerous than he: We are two lions litter'd in one day, And ...
Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard. It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. Re-enter Servant What say ...
What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions Are to the world in general as to Caesar.
Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see The face of Caesar, they are vanished.
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice And bring me their opinions of success.
Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night: Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, 'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!' Who's within?
Would he were fatter! But I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he ...
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.
Antonius!
He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.
Set him before me; let me see his face.
What man is that?
Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.
Ha! who calls?
Set on; and leave no ceremony out.
Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse.
Stand you directly in Antonius' way, When he doth run his course. Antonius!
Calpurnia!