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You blocks, you stones,you worse than sensless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? |
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I am not gamesome: I do lack some part of that quick spirit that is in Antony. |
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Poor Brutus, with himself at war, forgets the shows of love to other men. |
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Set honour in one eye and death in the other, and I will look on both indifferently. |
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I was born free as caesar; so were you: we both have fed us well, and we can both endure the wionter's cold as well as he. |
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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. |
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Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a collossus; 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 not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings. |
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