Julius Caesar

by William Shakespeare

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

—Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

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.

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

Ha. Told you so.