In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words. Witness the hole you made in Caesar’s heart, Crying “Long live, hail, Caesar!” (5.1.30-32)
Come, come, the cause. If arguing make us sweat, The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look, I draw a sword against conspirators. When think you that the sword goes up again? Never, till Caesar’s three and thirty wounds Be well avenged, or till another Caesar Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. (5.1.49-55)
No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman, That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome. He bears too great a mind. But this same day Must end that work the ides of March begun. And whether we shall meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take. Forever and forever farewell, Cassius. If we do meet again, why, we shall smile. If not, why then this parting was well made. (5.1.112-120)
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords In our own proper entrails. (5.3.100-102)
Are yet two Romans living such as these? —The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow.—Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay. —I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. —Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body. (5.3.104-110)