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Casca gave him the first cut, in the neck, which was not mortal nor dangerous, coming, as it did, from one who at the beginning of such a bold action was probably very much disturbed. Caesar immediately turned about, and laid his hand upon the dagger and kept hold of it.
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. ''T is Caesar that you mean: Is it not, Cassius? 'Let it be WHO IT is: for Romans now Have thewes and limbs like to their ancestors.
'You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman, you do want, Or else you use not. For as to these extraordinary phenomena in nature, he says, 'If you would consider the true cause
"Yes, unless he found Brutus, Cassius, and Casca on his path." "So," said Bonaparte, sadly, "my enemies are reckoning on assassination, are they? In that case the thing is easy, and you, my enemy, have the first chance. What hinders you at this moment, if you feel like Brutus, from striking me as he struck Caesar?
Casca gave him the first cut, in the neck, which was not mortal nor dangerous, as coming from one who at the beginning of such a bold action was probably very much disturbed. Caesar immediately turned about, and laid his hand upon the dagger and kept hold of it.
And it happened that at the same moment he who was struck cried out in the Roman language, "You villain, Casca, what are you doing?" and he who had given the blow cried out to his brother in Greek, "Brother, help."
Such men as he are never at heart's ease, Whiles they behold a greater than themselves; And therefore are they very dangerous, I rather tell thee what is to be feared, Than what I fear, FOR ALWAYS I AM CAESAR. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. Casca. You pulled me by the cloak: would you speak with me? Brutus.
But one can hear, in that wild lurid night, in the streets of Rome, amid the cross blue lightnings, what could not have been whispered in the streets of England then, or spoken in the ear in closets. Why are you breathless? and why stare you so? Casca. Are you not moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm?
Fight earthquakes in the entrails of the earth, And eastern whirlwinds in the hellish shades; Some foul contagion of the infected heavens Blast all the trees, and in their cursed tops The dismal night-raven and tragic owl Breed and become forerunners of my fall! Casca dwells especially on the 'bird of night.
On the news of his departure Cicero returned to Rome, where he arrived on the ninth of December. He was again addressed with earnest solicitations by the friends of Octavius, who, to confirm his belief in his good intentions, allowed Casca, who had been one of the slayers of Caesar, and had himself given him the first blow, to enter on his office as tribune of the people on the tenth of December.
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