Portia! What mean you? Wherefore rise you now?Hyperbaton & Quaesitio
It is not for your health thus to commit
Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
O hateful error, melancholy’s child,
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not?
But Cassius is no more. O setting sun,
As in thy red rays thou dost sink tonight,
So in his red blood Cassius’ day is set!
This day I brèathed first: time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end;
My life is run his compass.
Now, most noble Brutus,
The gods today stand friendly, that we may,
Lovers in peace,
Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch’d,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers’ hands,
The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
O Cassius, you are yokèd with a lambMetaphor
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the world;
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Do not presume too much upon my love,
I may do that I shall be sorry for.
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
A word, Lucilius,
How he receiv’d you; let me be resolv’d.
With courtesy and with respect enough,
We are at the stake,
And bay’d about with many enemies,
And some that smile have in their hearts,
This is a slight unmeritable man,
Meet to be sent on errandsAlliteration;
Friends, Romans, countrymenExordium, lend me your ears!Synecdoche
I come to bury Caesar,
Romans, countrymen, and lovers,Exordium hear me for my cause,
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand.
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure?
How many ages hence
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
Fates, we will know your pleasures.Personification
That we shall die, we know, ’tis but the time,
I could be well mov’d, if I were as you;
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me;
Alas, my lord,
Your wisdom is consum’d in confidence.
Do not go forth today;
When beggars die there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter,
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.Alliteration & Metaphor
Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
Never fear that. If he be so resolv’d,
I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betray’d with trees,
But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.
And let us swear our resolution.
No, not an oath!
They are the faction. O Conspiracy,
Sham’st thou to show thy dang’rous brow by night,
When evils are most free?
Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion,
It must be by his death; and for my part,
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
O, he sits high in all the people’s hearts;
And that which would appear offense in us,
And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
Poor man, I know he would not be a wolf,
I know where I will wear this dagger then;
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius.
Therein, ye gods,
You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of life
That should be in a Roman you do want,
Or else you use not.
Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time;
But men may construe things after their fashion,
Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep a-nights.
That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
What you would work me to,
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a ColossusSimile, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs,
Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have.
Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?
Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet I see
Thy honorable mettle may be wrought
From that it is dispos’d;
Such men as he be never at heart’s ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am armed so strong in honesty
That they pass by me as the idle wind,