Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’ nights;
Yond’ Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus
But, for my own part, it was Greek to me.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
But I am constant as the northern star,
Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Caesar!
Cry, ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!
This was the most unkindest cut of all
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
