1 O Antony, beg not your death of us.
2 O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
3 Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov'd him.
4 O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel The dint of pity.
5 O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit That touches Caesar nearer.
6 O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
7 O world, thou wast the forest to this hart; And this indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
8 O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers.
9 If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.
10 O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.
11 O, name him not; let us not break with him; For he will never follow anything That other men begin.
12 O setting sun, As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night, So in his red blood Cassius' day is set.
13 O yes, and soundless too, For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting.
14 O, let us have him, for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion, And buy men's voices to commend our deeds.
15 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.
16 O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early, Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil, Whilst we by Antony are all enclos'd.