Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bru. Be not deceiu'd: If I haue veyl'd my looke,
Bru. I turne the trouble of my Countenance
Bru. Meerely vpon my selfe. Vexed I am
Bru. Of late, with passions of some difference,
Bru. Conceptions onely proper to my selfe,
Bru. Which giue some soyle (perhaps) to my Behauiours:
Bru. But let not therefore my good Friends be greeu'd
Bru. (Among which number Cassius be you one)
Bru. Nor construe any further my neglect,
Bru. Then that poore Brutus with himselfe at warre,
Bru. Forgets the shewes of Loue to other men.
Cassi. Cassi.
Cassi. Then Brutus, I haue much mistook your passion,
Cassi. By meanes whereof, this Brest of mine hath buried
Cassi. Thoughts of great value, worthy Cogitations.
Cassi. Tell me good Brutus, Can you see your face?
Brutus. Brutus.
Brutus. No Cassius:
Brutus. For the eye sees not it selfe but by reflection,
Brutus. By some other things.