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9 O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.
10 And there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets.
11 A common slave, you'd know him well by sight, Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand, Not sensible of fire remain'd unscorch'd.