Julius Caesar

by William Shakespeare

And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow.

Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard. It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;

CINNA THE POET Truly, my name is Cinna. First Citizen Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator. CINNA THE POET I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. Fourth Citizen Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses. CINNA THE POET I am not Cinna the conspirator. Fourth Citizen It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.

'Tis better that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness.