Speeches (Lines) for Cinna in "The Tragedy of Julius Caesar"

Cassius. 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;
He is a friend.
[Enter CINNA]
Cinna, where haste you so?

Cinna. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

Cassius. No, it is Casca; one incorporate
To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

Cinna. I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.

Cassius. Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

Cinna. Yes, you are.
O Cassius, if you could
But win the noble Brutus to our party--

Cassius. Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper,
And look you lay it in the praetor's chair,
Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this
In at his window; set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

Cinna. All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.

Casca. No.

Cinna. O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines
That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

Casca. Let us not leave him out.

Cinna. No, by no means.

Brutus. By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?

Cinna. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Brutus. He is address'd: press near and second him.

Cinna. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

Cassius. I could be well moved, if I were as you:
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire and every one doth shine,
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little show it, even in this;
That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,
And constant do remain to keep him so.

Cinna. O Caesar,--

Caesar. Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.

Cinna. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

Brutus. Where's Publius?

Cinna. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.