Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands:
to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius'
house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go!

Your name, sir, truly.

Ay, and truly, you were best.

Where do you dwell?

Pluck down benches.

O royal Caesar!

Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.

O woful day!

You shall have leave.

There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

Has he, masters?
I fear there will a worse come in his place.

Nay, that's certain:
We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

He says, for Brutus' sake,
He finds himself beholding to us all.

Let him go up into the public chair;
We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up.

Let him be Caesar.

The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!