Julius Caesar

And leave us, Publius, in case the people storming us should harm you.

Do so. And let no one suffer for this deed except us, the perpetrators.

Where’s Antony?

He ran to his house, stunned. Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run in the streets as though it were doomsday.

We’ll soon find out what fate has in store for us. All we know is that we’ll die sometime, which is all anyone ever knows, though we try to draw out our days for as long as possible.

Why, the man who shortens his life by twenty years cuts off twenty years of worrying about death.

So, then, death is a gift, and we are Caesar’s friends, for we’ve done him a service by shortening his time spent fearing death. Kneel, Romans, kneel, and let’s wash our hands, up to the elbows, in Caesar’s blood and smear it on our swords. Then we’ll go out, even to the marketplace, and, waving our bloody swords over our heads, let’s cry, “Peace, freedom, and liberty!”

Kneel then, and wash.