id stringlengths 16 16 | text stringlengths 151 2.3k | word_count int64 30 60 | source stringclasses 1 value |
|---|---|---|---|
twg_000000020500 | need, Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits A bare-ribbd death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French. LOUIS. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. BASTARD. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The same. The Field of Battle. Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020501 | KING JOHN. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. HUBERT. Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty? KING JOHN. This fever that hath troubled me so long Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick! Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your majesty to leave the field And send him word | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020502 | by me which way you go. KING JOHN. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. MESSENGER. Be of good comfort; for the great supply That was expected by the Dauphin here Are wrackd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands. This news was brought to Richard but even now. The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. KING JOHN. Ay me, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020503 | this tyrant fever burns me up And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on toward Swinstead. To my litter straight. Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. The same. Another part of the same. Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot. SALISBURY. I did not think the King so stord with friends. PEMBROKE. Up once again; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020504 | put spirit in the French. If they miscarry, we miscarry too. SALISBURY. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. PEMBROKE. They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field. Enter Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers. MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here. SALISBURY. When we were happy we had other names. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020505 | PEMBROKE. It is the Count Melun. SALISBURY. Wounded to death. MELUN. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; Unthread the rude eye of rebellion And welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out King John and fall before his feet; For if the French be lords of this loud day, He means to recompense the pains you take By cutting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020506 | off your heads. Thus hath he sworn, And I with him, and many more with me, Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; Even on that altar where we swore to you Dear amity and everlasting love. SALISBURY. May this be possible? May this be true? MELUN. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020507 | Which bleeds away even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit? Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must die here and live hence by truth? I say again, if Louis do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020508 | win the day, He is forsworn if eer those eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east. But even this night, whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated treachery Even with a treacherous fine of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020509 | all your lives, If Louis by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; The love of him, and this respect besides, For that my grandsire was an Englishman, Awakes my conscience to confess all this. In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the field, Where | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020510 | I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires. SALISBURY. We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul But I do love the favour and the form Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will untread the steps of damned flight, And like a bated | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020511 | and retired flood, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Stoop low within those bounds we have oerlookd, And calmly run on in obedience Even to our ocean, to our great King John. My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; For I do see the cruel pangs of death Right in thine eye.Away, my friends! New flight, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020512 | happy newness, that intends old right. [_Exeunt, leading off Melun._] SCENE V. The same. The French camp. Enter Louis and his train. LOUIS. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, But stayd, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measure backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020513 | of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night, And wound our tottring colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? LOUIS. Here. What news? MESSENGER. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords By his persuasion are again falln off, And your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020514 | supply, which you have wishd so long, Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. LOUIS. Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart! I did not think to be so sad tonight As this hath made me. Who was he that said King John did fly an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary powers? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020515 | MESSENGER. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. LOUIS. Well, keep good quarter and good care tonight. The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of tomorrow. [_Exeunt._] SCENE VI. An open place in the neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey. Enter the Bastard and Hubert, meeting. HUBERT. Whos there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020516 | or I shoot. BASTARD. A friend. What art thou? HUBERT. Of the part of England. BASTARD. Whither dost thou go? HUBERT. Whats that to thee? Why may I not demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? BASTARD. Hubert, I think. HUBERT. Thou hast a perfect thought. I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020517 | that knowst my tongue so well. Who art thou? BASTARD. Who thou wilt. And if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. HUBERT. Unkind remembrance! Thou and eyeless night Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should scape the true acquaintance | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020518 | of mine ear. BASTARD. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? HUBERT. Why, here walk I in the black brow of night, To find you out. BASTARD. Brief, then; and whats the news? HUBERT. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. BASTARD. Show me the very wound of this ill news. I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020519 | no woman, Ill not swoon at it. HUBERT. The King, I fear, is poisond by a monk. I left him almost speechless, and broke out To acquaint you with this evil, that you might The better arm you to the sudden time, Than if you had at leisure known of this. BASTARD. How did he take it? Who did taste | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020520 | to him? HUBERT. A monk, I tell you, a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. BASTARD. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? HUBERT. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company; At whose request the King hath pardond them, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020521 | they are all about his majesty. BASTARD. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, And tempt us not to bear above our power! Ill tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide; These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; Myself, well mounted, hardly have escapd. Away, before. Conduct me to the King; I doubt he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020522 | will be dead or ere I come. [_Exeunt._] SCENE VII. The orchard of Swinstead Abbey. Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot. PRINCE HENRY. It is too late. The life of all his blood Is touchd corruptibly, and his pure brain, Which some suppose the souls frail dwelling-house, Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretell the ending of mortality. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020523 | Enter Pembroke. PEMBROKE. His Highness yet doth speak, and holds belief That, being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality Of that fell poison which assaileth him. PRINCE HENRY. Let him be brought into the orchard here. Doth he still rage? [_Exit Bigot._] PEMBROKE. He is more patient Than when you left him; even now he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020524 | sung. PRINCE HENRY. O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes In their continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having preyd upon the outward parts, Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves. Tis strange | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020525 | that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. SALISBURY. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020526 | and so rude. Enter Bigot and Attendants, who bring in King John in a chair. KING JOHN. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room It would not out at windows nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom That all my bowels crumble up to dust. I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen Upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020527 | a parchment, and against this fire Do I shrink up. PRINCE HENRY. How fares your majesty? KING JOHN. Poisond, ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off, And none of you will bid the winter come To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, Nor let my kingdoms rivers take their course Through my burnd bosom, nor entreat the north To make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020528 | his bleak winds kiss my parched lips And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much, I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait, And so ingrateful, you deny me that. PRINCE HENRY. O, that there were some virtue in my tears That might relieve you! KING JOHN. The salt in them is hot. Within me is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020529 | a hell; and there the poison Is, as a fiend, confind to tyrannize On unreprievable condemned blood. Enter the Bastard. BASTARD. O, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleen of speed to see your majesty! KING JOHN. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye. The tackle of my heart is crackd and burnd, And all the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020530 | shrouds wherewith my life should sail Are turned to one thread, one little hair. My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou seest is but a clod And module of confounded royalty. BASTARD. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where God He knows how we shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020531 | answer him; For in a night the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the Washes all unwarily Devoured by the unexpected flood. [_The King dies._] SALISBURY. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. My liege! My lord!But now a king, now thus. PRINCE HENRY. Even so must I run on, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020532 | and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay? BASTARD. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind To do the office for thee of revenge, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020533 | Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths, And instantly return with me again, To push destruction and perpetual shame Out of the weak door of our fainting land. Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; The Dauphin rages at our very heels. SALISBURY. It seems | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020534 | you know not, then, so much as we. The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace As we with honour and respect may take, With purpose presently to leave this war. BASTARD. He will the rather do it when he sees Ourselves well | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020535 | sinewed to our defence. SALISBURY. Nay, tis in a manner done already, For many carriages he hath dispatchd To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel To the disposing of the cardinal, With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, If you think meet, this afternoon will post To consummate this business happily. BASTARD. Let it be so. And you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020536 | my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spard, Shall wait upon your fathers funeral. PRINCE HENRY. At Worcester must his body be interrd; For so he willd it. BASTARD. Thither shall it, then, And happily may your sweet self put on The lineal state and glory of the land! To whom, with all submission, on my knee, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020537 | I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly. SALISBURY. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. PRINCE HENRY. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks And knows not how to do it but with tears. BASTARD. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020538 | it hath been beforehand with our griefs. This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020539 | to itself do rest but true. [_Exeunt._] THE TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CAESAR Contents ACT I Scene I. Rome. A street. Scene II. The same. A public place. Scene III. The same. A street. ACT II Scene I. Rome. Brutus orchard. Scene II. A room in Caesars palace. Scene III. A street near the Capitol. Scene IV. Another part of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020540 | same street, before the house of Brutus. ACT III Scene I. Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting. Scene II. The same. The Forum. Scene III. The same. A street. ACT IV Scene I. A room in Antonys house. Scene II. Before Brutus tent, in the camp near Sardis. Scene III. Within the tent of Brutus. ACT V Scene I. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020541 | The plains of Philippi. Scene II. The same. The field of battle. Scene III. Another part of the field. Scene IV. Another part of the field. Scene V. Another part of the field. Dramatis Person JULIUS CAESAR OCTAVIUS CAESAR, Triumvir after his death. MARCUS ANTONIUS, M. AEMILIUS LEPIDUS, CICERO, PUBLIUS, POPILIUS LENA, Senators. MARCUS BRUTUS, Conspirator against Caesar. CASSIUS, CASCA, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020542 | TREBONIUS, LIGARIUS, DECIUS BRUTUS, METELLUS CIMBER, CINNA, FLAVIUS, tribune MARULLUS, tribune ARTEMIDORUS, a Sophist of Cnidos. A Soothsayer CINNA, a poet. Another Poet. LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, young CATO, and VOLUMNIUS, Friends to Brutus and Cassius. VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, LUCIUS, DARDANIUS, Servants to Brutus PINDARUS, Servant to Cassius CALPHURNIA, wife to Caesar PORTIA, wife to Brutus The Ghost of Caesar | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020543 | Senators, Citizens, Soldiers, Commoners, Messengers, and Servants. SCENE: Rome, the conspirators camp near Sardis, and the plains of Philippi. ACT I SCENE I. Rome. A street. Enter Flavius, Marullus and a throng of Citizens. FLAVIUS. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home. Is this a holiday? What, know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020544 | day without the sign Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? CARPENTER. Why, sir, a carpenter. MARULLUS. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you? COBBLER. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. MARULLUS. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020545 | what trade art thou? Answer me directly. COBBLER. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. MARULLUS. What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade? COBBLER. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020546 | you. MARULLUS. What meanst thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow! COBBLER. Why, sir, cobble you. FLAVIUS. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? COBBLER. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl; I meddle with no tradesmans matters, nor womens matters, but withal I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes: when they are in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020547 | great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats leather have gone upon my handiwork. FLAVIUS. But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? COBBLER. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020548 | and to rejoice in his triumph. MARULLUS. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climbd up to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020549 | walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020550 | of your sounds Made in her concave shores? 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 Pompeys blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020551 | needs must light on this ingratitude. FLAVIUS. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault Assemble all the poor men of your sort, Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [_Exeunt Citizens._] See whether their basest metal be not movd; They vanish tongue-tied | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020552 | in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I. Disrobe the images, If you do find them deckd with ceremonies. MARULLUS. May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. FLAVIUS. It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Caesars trophies. Ill about And drive away the vulgar from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020553 | the streets; So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluckd from Caesars wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men, And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The same. A public place. Enter, in procession, with music, Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calphurnia, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020554 | Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius and Casca; a great crowd following, among them a Soothsayer. CAESAR. Calphurnia. CASCA. Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. [_Music ceases._] CAESAR. Calphurnia. CALPHURNIA. Here, my lord. CAESAR. Stand you directly in Antonius way, When he doth run his course. Antonius. ANTONY. Caesar, my lord? CAESAR. Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia; for our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020555 | elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse. ANTONY. I shall remember. When Caesar says Do this, it is performd. CAESAR. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [_Music._] SOOTHSAYER. Caesar! CAESAR. Ha! Who calls? CASCA. Bid every noise be still; peace yet again! [_Music ceases._] CAESAR. Who is it in the press that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020556 | calls on me? I hear a tongue shriller than all the music, Cry Caesar! Speak. Caesar is turnd to hear. SOOTHSAYER. Beware the Ides of March. CAESAR. What man is that? BRUTUS. A soothsayer bids you beware the Ides of March. CAESAR. Set him before me; let me see his face. CASSIUS. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020557 | CAESAR. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again. SOOTHSAYER. Beware the Ides of March. CAESAR. He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass. [_Sennet. Exeunt all but Brutus and Cassius._] CASSIUS. Will you go see the order of the course? BRUTUS. Not I. CASSIUS. I pray you, do. BRUTUS. I am not gamesome: I do lack some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020558 | part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; Ill leave you. CASSIUS. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have. You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020559 | you. BRUTUS. Cassius, Be not deceived: if I have veild my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance Merely upon myself. Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors; But let not therefore my good friends be grieved (Among which number, Cassius, be you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020560 | one) Nor construe any further my neglect, Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men. CASSIUS. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? BRUTUS. No, Cassius, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020561 | the eye sees not itself But by reflection, by some other thing. CASSIUS. Tis just: And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow. I have heard Where many of the best respect in Rome, (Except immortal Caesar) speaking of Brutus, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020562 | And groaning underneath this ages yoke, Have wishd that noble Brutus had his eyes. BRUTUS. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me? CASSIUS. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear; And since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020563 | your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which you yet know not of. And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus: Were I a common laugher, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protester; if you know That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, And after scandal them; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020564 | or if you know That I profess myself in banqueting, To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. [_Flourish and shout._] BRUTUS. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Caesar for their king. CASSIUS. Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. BRUTUS. I would not, Cassius; yet I love | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020565 | him well, But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye and death i the other, And I will look on both indifferently; For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020566 | than I fear death. CASSIUS. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020567 | of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Caesar; so were you; We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winters cold as well as he: For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, Darst thou, Cassius, now Leap in with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020568 | me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point? Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow: so indeed he did. The torrent roard, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point proposd, Caesar cried, Help | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020569 | me, Cassius, or I sink! I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar. And this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020570 | him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him I did mark How he did shake: tis true, this god did shake: His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre. I did hear him groan: Ay, and that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020571 | tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius, As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone. [_Shout. Flourish._] BRUTUS. Another general | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020572 | shout? I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heapd on Caesar. CASSIUS. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020573 | not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that Caesar? 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 with em, Brutus will start a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020574 | spirit as soon as Caesar. Now in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamd! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age since the great flood, But it was famd with more than with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020575 | one man? When could they say, till now, that talkd of Rome, That her wide walls encompassd but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, When there is in it but one only man. O, you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brookd Th eternal devil to keep | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020576 | his state in Rome, As easily as a king! BRUTUS. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous; What you would work me to, I have some aim: How I have thought of this, and of these times, I shall recount hereafter. For this present, I would not, so with love I might entreat you, Be any further movd. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020577 | What you have said, I will consider; what you have to say I will with patience hear; and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020578 | like to lay upon us. CASSIUS. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. Enter Caesar and his Train. BRUTUS. The games are done, and Caesar is returning. CASSIUS. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020579 | note today. BRUTUS. I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesars brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train: Calphurnias cheek is pale; and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being crossd in conference by some senators. CASSIUS. Casca will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020580 | tell us what the matter is. CAESAR. Antonius. ANTONY. Caesar? CAESAR. Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights: Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. ANTONY. Fear him not, Caesar; hes not dangerous; He is a noble Roman and well given. CAESAR. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020581 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020582 | music. Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort As if he mockd himself and scornd his spirit That could be movd to smile at anything. Such men as he be never at hearts ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be feard Than what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020583 | I fear; for always I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou thinkst of him. [_Exeunt Caesar and his Train. Casca stays._] CASCA. You pulld me by the cloak; would you speak with me? BRUTUS. Ay, Casca, tell us what hath chancd today, That Caesar looks so sad. CASCA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020584 | Why, you were with him, were you not? BRUTUS. I should not then ask Casca what had chancd. CASCA. Why, there was a crown offerd him; and being offerd him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting. BRUTUS. What was the second noise for? CASCA. Why, for that too. CASSIUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020585 | They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? CASCA. Why, for that too. BRUTUS. Was the crown offerd him thrice? CASCA. Ay, marry, wast, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted. CASSIUS. Who offerd him the crown? CASCA. Why, Antony. BRUTUS. Tell us the manner of it, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020586 | gentle Casca. CASCA. I can as well be hangd, as tell the manner of it: it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown; yet twas not a crown neither, twas one of these coronets; and, as I told you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my thinking, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020587 | he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again: then he put it by again: but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by; and still, as he refusd it, the rabblement hooted, and clappd their | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020588 | chopt hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refusd the crown, that it had, almost, choked Caesar, for he swooned, and fell down at it. And for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. CASSIUS. But, soft! I pray | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020589 | you. What, did Caesar swoon? CASCA. He fell down in the market-place, and foamd at mouth, and was speechless. BRUTUS. Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness. CASSIUS. No, Caesar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness. CASCA. I know not what you mean by that; but I am sure Caesar fell down. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020590 | If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man. BRUTUS. What said he when he came unto himself? CASCA. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020591 | he pluckd me ope his doublet, and offerd them his throat to cut. And I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, if he had done or said | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020592 | anything amiss, he desird their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches where I stood cried, Alas, good soul! and forgave him with all their hearts. But theres no heed to be taken of them: if Caesar had stabbd their mothers, they would have done no less. BRUTUS. And, after that, he came thus sad away? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020593 | CASCA. Ay. CASSIUS. Did Cicero say anything? CASCA. Ay, he spoke Greek. CASSIUS. To what effect? CASCA. Nay, and I tell you that, Ill neer look you i the face again. But those that understood him smild at one another and shook their heads; but for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020594 | too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesars images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. CASSIUS. Will you sup with me tonight, Casca? CASCA. No, I am promisd forth. CASSIUS. Will you dine with me tomorrow? CASCA. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020595 | dinner worth the eating. CASSIUS. Good. I will expect you. CASCA. Do so; farewell both. [_Exit Casca._] BRUTUS. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school. CASSIUS. So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020596 | sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. BRUTUS. And so it is. For this time I will leave you: Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you. CASSIUS. I will do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020597 | so: till then, think of the world. [_Exit Brutus._] Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet I see, Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is disposd: therefore tis meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seducd? Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus. If I were Brutus | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020598 | now, and he were Cassius, He should not humour me. I will this night, In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely Caesars ambition shall be glanced at. And after this, let Caesar seat him sure, For we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020599 | will shake him, or worse days endure. [_Exit._] SCENE III. The same. A street. Thunder and lightning. Enter, from opposite sides, Casca with his sword drawn, and Cicero. CICERO. Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home? Why are you breathless, and why stare you so? CASCA. Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing | 60 | gutenberg |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.