I shall not find myself so apt to die; no place will please me so, no mean of death, as here by Caesar, and by you cut off, the choice and master spirits of this age.
To you our swords have leaded points, Mark Antony. Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts of brother's temper, do receive you in with all kind of love, good thoughts, and reverence.
Your voice shall be as strong as any man's in the disposing of new dignities.
I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand. First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand; now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus; yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours. Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Pardon me, Caius Cassius. The enemy of Caesar shall say this; then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.
I am blame you not for praising Caesar so: But what compact mean you have with us?
Or else were this is a savage spectacle.
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; domestic fury and fierce civil strife shall cumber all the parts of Italy; blood and destruction shall be so in use and dreadful objects so familiar.
Here is a mourning in Rome, a dangerous Rome. No Rome of safety for Octavius yet. According to which thou shall discourse to young Octavius of the states of things, lend me your hand.