The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Volume 7

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Página 45 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears ; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
Página 45 - Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see, that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And, sure, he is an honourable man.
Página 81 - NAY, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure : those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front : his captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles on his breast, reneges* all temper; And is become the bellows, and the fan, To cool a gipsy's lust.
Página 6 - I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story.— 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 m,yself. I was born free as Caesar; so were you: We both have fed as well; and we can both Endure the winter's cold, as well as he. For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to...
Página 193 - Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me; now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come: Now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.
Página 44 - Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who, though he had no hand in his death , shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; As which of you shall not ? With this I depart ; That, as I slew my bes't lover" for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Página 43 - 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 that will not love his country ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Página 109 - The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were silver ; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Página 58 - O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire ; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.
Página 48 - O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what! weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

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