The fault (dear Brutus) is not in our stars,
But in ourselves that we are underlings (I.ii)
Go bid the priests do present sacrifice
And bring me options of success (II.i)
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
Omitted, all the voyages of their life
Is bound in shallows and miseries (IV.iii)
I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it. It was mere foolery. I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown. . . and, as I told you, he put it by once. . . And then he offered it the third time. He put it the third time by. And still, as he refused it, the rabblement hooted. . . and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar— (1.2.234-244)
I cannot tell what you and other menThink of this life, but, for my single self,I had as lief not be as live to beIn awe of such a thing as I myself.I was born free as Caesar. So were you. (1.2.95-99)
For once upon a raw and gusty day,The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,Caesar said to me, “Darest thou, Cassius, nowLeap in with me into this angry floodAnd swim to yonder point?” Upon the word,Accoutred as I was, I plungèd inAnd bade him follow. …With lusty sinews, throwing it asideAnd stemming it with hearts of controversy.But ere we could arrive the point proposed,Caesar cried, “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!” (1.2.102-113)
And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?Poor man! I know he would not be a wolfBut that he sees the Romans are but sheep.He were no lion were not Romans hinds.Those that with haste will make a mighty fireBegin it with weak straws. What trash is Rome,What rubbish and what offal, when it servesFor the base matter to illuminateSo vile a thing as Caesar! (1.3.104-112)
If he be so resolved,I can o'ersway him. For he loves to hearThat unicorns may be betrayed with trees,And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.But when I tell him he hates flatterers,He says he does, being then most flatterèd.Let me work. (2.1.210-217)
I could be well moved if I were as you.If I could pray to move, prayers would move me.But I am constant as the northern star,Of whose true-fixed and resting qualityThere is no fellow in the firmament.The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks.They are all fire and every one doth shine,But there’s but one in all doth hold his place.So in the world. 'Tis furnished well with men,And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive,Yet in the number I do know but oneThat unassailable holds on his rank,Unshaked of motion. And that I am heLet me a little show it even in this:That I was constant Cimber should be banished,And constant do remain to keep him so. (3.1.63-78)
With this I depart: that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself when it shall please my country to need my death. (3.2.42-44)
Caesar shall forth. The things that threatened meNe'er looked but on my back. When they shall seeThe face of Caesar, they are vanishèd. (2.2.10-12)
How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,That now on Pompey’s basis lies alongNo worthier than the dust! (3.1.124-126)
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swordsIn our own proper entrails. (5.3.100-102)