The Complete Works of William Shakespeare: With Historical and Analytical Prefaces, Comments, Critical and Explanatory Notes, Glossaries, and a Life of Shakespeare, Volume 11

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Page 78 - Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man.
Page 97 - There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
Page 75 - 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. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen?
Page 32 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates : The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus, and Caesar : what should be in that Caesar...
Page 73 - Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use And dreadful objects so familiar That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds : And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 270 With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry
Page 57 - 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.
Page 81 - Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him : then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
Page 27 - And do you now put on your best attire ? And do you now cull out a holiday ? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ? Be gone ! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Page 31 - I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life ; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
Page 79 - Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha! you gods, why this? What this, you gods! Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accursed; Make the hoar leprosy adored; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...

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