All of Shakespeare’s plays.
The hand of death hath raught him.
Drums afar off
Hark! the drums
Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour
Is fully out.
Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
Was never yet for sleep.
Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
May concern Caesar.
If we be not relieved within this hour,
We must return to the court of guard: the night
Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle
By the second hour i' the morn.
Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;
Let's see how it will give off.
Ay; is't not strange?
Walk; let's see if other watchmen
Do hear what we do?
Peace, I say!
What should this mean?
Music i' the air.
Well, sir, good night.
Nothing. What news?
Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day.
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