Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

when it will come.
And I perceive you feel the dint of pity.
to beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
but in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Thus must I piece it out.
Joy once fled cannot return
and I am sure it did not lie there when I went to bed.
Know I these men that come along with you?
low-crooked courtesies and base spaniel fawning.
I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it.
Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
Boy, Lucius! Lucius, awake!
by some other things.
Do not go forth today.
do stand but in a forced affection.
None, Brutus. None!
he'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
alas, it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius, as a sick girl.
I will do so. Till then, think of the world.
But I fear him not.
and that I am he. Let me a little show it, even in this.
O ye immortal gods.
Or, if you will, come home to me, and I will wait for you.
with a teacher's voice cry, "havoc!"
Fellow, come from the throng.
You forget yourself to hedge me in.
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Speak, strike, redress!
I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well.
Yours, Metellus.
through the hazards of this untrod state
scorning the base degrees by which he did ascend.
Upon the word, accoutered as I was, I plunged in and bade him follow,
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart.
What other bond than secret Romans that have spoke the word
What, durst not tempt him?
I will, my lord.
O masters!
fall upon your knees,
My lord.
Caesar!
So let high-sighted tyranny range on
You have some sick offense within your mind,
and touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well.
- Who's there? - A Roman.
There's tears for his love, joy for his fortune,
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.
We have tickets that will Breach soon just an FYI
Who ever knew the heavens menace so?
You blocks, you stones,
If not, why then, this parting was well made.
When went there by a time, since the great flood,
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
If there be any in this assembly,
Gentle knave, good night. I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
to cut the head off and then hack the limbs,
wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at.
Therefore I took your hands,
By the gods, you shall digest the venom of your spleen,
I am not gamesome. I do lack some part of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
They would not have you to stir forth today.
- Good night, Lucilius. - Good night, my lord.
O Caesar, these things are beyond all use,
Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
No, my Brutus.
They murdered Caesar!
but speak all good you can devise of Caesar,
What mean you, Caesar?
Ay.
The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
Caesar's better parts shall be crowned in Brutus!
Shall no man else be touched but only Caesar?
And do you now put on your best attire?
for we will shake him,
Lucius, my gown!
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, and bring me their opinions of success.
Fear him not, Caesar. He is not dangerous.
Yet I insisted, yet you answered not,
100 ghastly women, transformed with their fear,
Cassius, be content. Speak your griefs softly.
Casca, by your voice.
Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, in which so many smiling Romans bathed,
and the state of man,
Do not presume too much upon my love. I may do that I shall be sorry for.
I should not need if you were gentle Brutus.
that it serves for the base matter to illuminate
- Cassius, what night is this? - A very pleasing night to honest men.
And is it physical to walk unbraced
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
and Brutus is an honorable man.
Time is come round,
But wherefore art not in thy shop today?
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
knew you not Pompey?
Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarves off Caesar's images, are put to silence.
- No, my lord, I saw nothing. - Nor I, my lord.
but withal a woman that Lord Brutus took to wife.
I'll have them sleep on cushions by my tent.
Have patience, gentle friends. I must not read it.
Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die.
I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.
I could tell you more news, too.
Did Cicero say anything?
Farewell, good Messala.
And friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember what you have said,
though it do split you, for, from this day forth,
that what he is, augmented, would run to these and these extremities.
and we then shall determine how to cut off some charge in legacies.
I found no man but he was true to me.
Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead so well as Brutus living,