Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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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.
Cassius. Cassius.
Cassius. 'Tis iust,
Cassius. And it is very much lamented Brutus,
Cassius. That you haue no such Mirrors, as will turne
Cassius. Your hidden worthinesse into your eye,
Cassius. That you might see your shadow:
Cassius. I haue heard,
Cassius. Where many of the best respect in Rome,