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"But what trade art thou? Answer me directly."
"A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscence, which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles."
"Forget not your speed, Antonious, To touch Calpurnia, for our elders say the barren, touched in this holy chase, shake off their sterile curse."
"Beware the Ides of March."
'Tis just. And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turnYour 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 And groaning underneath this age’s yoke Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes
"Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, and look you lay it in the praetor's chair where Brutus may find in. And throw this it at his window. Set this up with wax upon old Brutus' statue. All this done repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us."
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