1 I have slept, my lord, already.
2 The strings, my lord, are false.
3 My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
4 Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.
5 I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord.
6 That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
7 Alas, my lord, Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence.
8 Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
9 Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord.
10 Statilius show'd the torch-light; but, my lord, He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain.
11 Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; Say I am merry; come to me again, And bring me word what he doth say to thee.
12 Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, For he went sickly forth: and take good note What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.