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Speak hands for me.
"Et tu, Brute?"
"Produce his body to the market place And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral."
"There is tears for his love; joy for hif fortunate; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition."
"Moreover he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors,and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, and to your heirs for ever-- common pleasures To walk abroad and recreate yourselves."
"Tear him, tear him!Come, brands ho! firebands! To brutus' to Cassius! Burn all! Some to Decius' house and some to Casca's!"
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