Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bru. We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.
Bru. And for Marke Antony, thinke not of him:
Bru. For he can do no more then Cæsars Arme,
Bru. When Cæsars head is off.
Cas. Cas.
Cas. Yet I feare him,
Cas. For in the ingrafted loue he beares to Cæsar.
Bru. Bru.
Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not thinke of him:
Bru. If he loue Cæsar, all that he can do
Bru. Is to himselfe; take thought, and dye for Cæsar,
Bru. And that were much he should: for he is giuen
Bru. To sports, to wildenesse, and much company.
Treb. Treb.
Treb. There is no feare in him; let him not dye,
Treb. For he will liue, and laugh at this heereafter.
Treb. Clocke strikes.
Bru. Peace, count the Clocke.