Julius Caesar Quotes - Page 2 | Just Great DataBase

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."You're on Earth. There's no cure for that." - - Samuel Beckett

Fill till the wine o'erswell the cup

A piece of work that will make sick men whole.

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

Of your philosophy you make no use,If you give place to accidental evils.

Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know / When though didst hate him worst, thou loved’st him better / Than ever thou loved’st Cassius.

These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of menAnd keep us all in servile fearfulness.

I thrice presented him a kingly crown. Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?

But are not some whole that we must make sick?

And Caesar shall go forth.

For he is superstitious grown of late,Quite from the main opinion he held onceOf fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies.

There is a tide in the affairs of men.Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;Omitted, all the voyage of their lifeIs 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.

Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:Is this a holiday? what! know you not,Being mechanical, you ought not walkUpon a labouring day without the signOf your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

When love begins to sicken and decayIt useth an enforced ceremony.There are no tricks in plain and simple faith:But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,Make gallant show, and promise of their mettle.

What means this shouting? I do fear, the peopleChoose Caesar for their king.

You see we do, yet see you but our handsAnd this the bleeding business they have done:Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful

Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference,Conceptions only proper to myself,Which gives some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt.

Is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humors Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night?

And as he plucked his cursed steel away,Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it,As rushing out of doors, to be resolvedIf Brutus unkindly knocked or no.

The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.

I am not gamesome: I do lack some partof that quick spirit that is in Antony.

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 than I fear death.

Between the acting of a dreadful thingAnd the first motion, all the interim isLike a phantasm or a hideous dream.The genius and the moral instruments Are then in council, and the state of a man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers thenThe nature of an insurrection.

What, Lucius, ho!I cannot, by the progress of the stars,Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say!I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius!

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,They are all fire and every one doth shine

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,Knew you not Pompey?

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus

Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,Assemble all the poor men of your sort;Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tearsInto the channel, till the lowest streamDo kiss the most exalted shores of all.

Therein, ye gods, ye make the weak most strong;Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat.Nor stony wall, nor walls of beaten brass,Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,Can be retentive to the strength of spirit:But life being weary of these worldly barsNever lacks power to dismiss itself.

To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards. For Antony is but a limb of Caesar. 165    Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.

Brutus    No, Cassius. For the eye sees not itself But41 by reflection, by some other things.

And graves have yawned and yielded up their dead. Fierce

And tell them that I will not come today. Cannot is false, and that I dare not, falser. I will not come today. Tell them so,

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? Brutus. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, 140 But by reflection, by some other things.

But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man….

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

As with all literature, the play should be read through the eyes of the author, as far as this is possible, which in Shakespeare’s case means reading it through the eyes of an orthodox Christian living in Elizabethan England.

The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.

I should not urge thy duty past thy might.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for mycause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe mefor mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, thatyou may believe: censure me in your wisdom, andawake your senses, that you may the better judge.

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 75By any indirection.

Men at some time are masters of their fates;      The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,114 [140]      But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Cassius has a lean and hungry look;      He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

O that a man might know      The end of this day’s business ere it come!      But it sufficeth that the day will end,      And then the end is known.

but for mine own part, it was Greek to me.

This was the noblest Roman of them all.      All the conspirators save only he      Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; [70]      He only in a general honest thought      And common good to all made one of them.      His