Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Stra. Stra.
Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you.
Octa. Octa.
Octa. Do so, good Messala.
Messa. Messa.
Messa. How dyed my Master Strato?
Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it.
Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee,
Messa. That did the latest seruice to my Master.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all:
Ant. All the Conspirators saue onely hee,
Ant. Did that they did, in enuy of great Cæsar:
Ant. He, onely in a generall honest thought,
Ant. And common good to all, made one of them.
Ant. His life was gentle, and the Elements
Ant. So mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp,
Ant. And say to all the world; This was a man.