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Andronicus Antony Apem Attendants bear better blood bring brother Brutus Cæs Cæsar Casca Cassius Char Cleo Cleopatra comes dead dear death deed dost doth emperor Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes fall fear follow fool fortune friends give gods gold gone hand hath hear heart heaven hold honour JOHNSON keep kind king Lavinia leave live look lord Lucius madam Marcus Mark master means nature never night noble once peace play Poet poor pray present queen Roman Rome SCENE Senators Serv Servant Sold soldier sons speak stand stay STEEVENS sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou thou art thou hast thought Timon Titus true turn WARBURTON wrong
Page 50 - Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. 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.
Page 58 - For I can raise no money by vile means : By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, By any indirection.
Page 14 - 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.
Page 56 - I an itching palm ? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement ! Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember ! Did not great Julius bleed for justice...
Page 62 - 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 178 - 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.
Page 74 - This was the noblest Roman of them all : All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caesar ; He, only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle ; and the elements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world,
Page 10 - 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?