Et tu, Brute?
Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.
There is plenty of time to sleep in the grave.
Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
The lady protests too much, methinks.
Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds (20) In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol.