Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look:
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous

Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault$$$ dear Brutus$$$ is not in our stars
But in ourselves$$$ that we are underlings.

Beware the Ides of March.
Made glorious summer by this sun of York.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

And live we how we can$$$ yet die we must.

Fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.

For trust not him that hath once broken faith.

Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.

My crown is in my heart$$$ not on my head.

Let me embrace the sour adversaries
For wise men say it is the wisest course.