Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Dec. Nor by a hyred Knife, but that selfe‑hand
Dec. Which writ his Honor in the Acts it did,
Dec. Hath with the Courage which the heart did lend it,
Dec. Splitted the heart. This is his Sword,
Dec. I robb'd his wound of it: behold it stain'd
Dec. With his most Noble blood.
Cæs. Cæs.
Cæs. Looke you sad Friends,
Cæs. The Gods rebuke me, but it is Tydings
Cæs. To wash the eyes of Kings.
Dol. Dol.
Dol. And strange it is,
Dol. That Nature must compell vs to lament
Dol. Our most persisted deeds.
Mec. Mec.
Mec. His taints and Honours, wag'd equal with him.
Dola. Dola.
Dola. A Rarer spirit neuer
Dola. Did steere humanity: but you Gods will giue vs
Dola. Some faults to make vs men. Cæsar is touch'd.