O, he sits high in all the people’s hearts, . . .

I am not gamesome. I do lack some part / Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world / Like a Colossus.

And thus unbracèd, . . . / Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone.

O, let us have him, for his silver hairs / Will purchase us a good opinion . . .

. . . We shall find of him / A shrewd contriver. . . .

I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

I am a woman well-reputed… / I have made strong proof of my constancy.

. . . And for my part / I know no personal cause to spurn at him, . . .

Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, / And as a suitor will I give him this.

My ancestors did from the streets of Rome / The Tarquin drive when he was called a king.

. . . He reads much, / He is a great observer, and he looks / Quite through the deeds of men.

Let me work, / For I can give his humor the true bent, / And I will bring him to the Capitol.

And so near will I be / That your best friends shall wish I had been further.

Why do you cross me in this exigent?

I had rather be a dog and bay the moon / Than such a Roman.

. . . you yourself / Are much condemned to have an itching palm.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.

This is a slight, unmeritable man.

I am a soldier, older in practice, abler than yourself.

He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, / To groan and sweat under the business.

To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

So I am free, yet would not so have been.

O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth.