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wife of Brutus, has, prior to this period, ended her life by poison. An eloquent tribute from Octavius and Antony to the character of Brutus ends the play.
Contempt of Cassius for Cæsar.
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
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 Cæsar : What should be in that Cæsar ? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ; Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure them, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. Now in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great ? Age, thou art sham’d: Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was fam'd with more than with one man? When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, That her wide walks encompass'd but one man?
Cæsar's suspicions of Cassius. '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 loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music: Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit, That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease, Whiles they behold a greater than themselves ; And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be fear’d, Than what I fear, for always I am Cæsar.
That could ock'd himsed smile
Ambition clad in Humility.
Conspiracy dreadful till executed.
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber :
Portents attend Royal Deaths.
The Fear of Death. Cowards die many times before their deaths : . The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
Act III. Brutus's Address to the Citizens. BRUTUS. Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour ; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus's love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer,—Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men ? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him : but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honour for his valour ; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile,