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Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, 'Alas, good soul! and forgave him with all their hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. Brutus. And after that, he came thus sad away? Casca. Ay. Cassius. Did Cicero say anything? Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek. Cassius. To what effect? Casca.
Cimber, then, with both hands, pulled his gown off his neck, which was the signal for the attack. Casca gave him the first blow. It was a stroke upon the neck with his sword, but the wound was not dangerous; for in the beginning of so tremendous an enterprise he was probably in some disorder. Cæsar therefore turned upon him and laid hold of his sword.
Brutus says of Casca, when he is gone, 'He was quick mettle when he went to school'; and Cassius replies, 'So he is now however he puts on this tardy form.
To this Brutus, in great discomposure replied, "Why then, Casca, do you ask me about it, and not do yourselves what you think fitting?" This answer of Brutus was taken for his consent to the death of these wretched men; so they were carried away and slain.
Casca was the first to strike him on the neck with his sword, a blow neither mortal nor severe, for as was natural at the beginning of so bold a deed he was confused, and Cæsar turning round seized the dagger and held it fast.
The conspirators seconded him with great earnestness; and Cimber, seeming to sue with still greater submission, took hold of the bottom of his robe; holding him, so as to prevent his rising. 11. This was the signal agreed on; when Casca, who was behind, instantly stabbed him in the shoulder, Cæsar sprung around, and, with the steel of his tablet, wounded him in the arm.
The sun of knowledge and liberty is already high in the heavens it is peeping into every dark nook and corner of the earth and the African cannot be always excluded from its beams. The advocates of slavery remind me of a comparison I once heard differently applied: Even thus does a dog, unwilling to follow his master's carriage, bite the wheels, in a vain effort to stop its progress. Casca.
'Now could I, Casca, Name to thee a man most like this dreadful night; That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars As doth the lion in the Capitol: A man no mightier than thyself, or me, In personal action, yet prodigious grown, And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. Casca. Tis Caesar that you mean: Is it not, Cassius? Cassius.
Over the beautiful blue bay, where the moon had laid her pavement of gold, floated a low sweet song, a simple barcarolle, that came from a group of happy souls in a small boat "Che cosi vual que pesci Fiduline! L'anel que me cascá Nella bella mia barca Nella bella se ne vá. Fiduline."
And all the rest look like a chidden train: Calphurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes, As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being crossed in conference by some senators. Cassius. Casca will tell us what the matter is. Caesar. Antonius. Antony. Caesar. Caesar.
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