Beware the Ides of March
...he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves...
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed
That he s grown so great?
Let me have men about me that are fat...
But for mine own part, it was Greek to me.
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Danger knows full well
That Caesar is more dangerous than he.
We are two lions littered in one day,
And I the elder are more terrible.
Know: Caesar doth now wrong, nor without cause
Will he be satisfied.
Et tu, Brute--Then fall, Caesar.
O mighty Caesar, dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils
Shrunk to this little measure?
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dog of war...
Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause...
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason!
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune...
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet;
Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.
This was the noblest Roman of them all...
His life was gentle and the elements
So mixed in him that nature might stand up
And say to all the world "This was a man."