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Et tu, Brute?----Then fall, Cæsar!
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no.
Cowards die many times before their deaths
Å, feig er jeg, som lever til jeg ser min beste venn bli tatt rett fremfor meg!
idles of march