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For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquishi’d him; then burst his mighty heart ;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
While bloody treason flourish'd over us.
0! now you weep; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity ; these are gracious drops.
Kind souls; what! weep you when
hut behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? look you here! Here is himself, marr’d, as you see, by traitors.
Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To any
sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable. What private griefs they have, alas ! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise and honourable ; And will, no doubt, with reason answer you, I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; I am no orator, as Brutus is : But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend : and that they know full well, hat gave me public leave to speak of him : For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action sor utt'rance, nor the pow'r of speech, To stir men's blood; I only speak right on : I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Cæsar's wounas, poor, poor dumb mouths ! And bid them speak for me. But were 1 Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In ev'ry wound of Cæsar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.
Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this,
You have condemu'd and noted Lucius Pella
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letter (praying on his side,
Because I knew the man) was slighted of.
Bru. You wrong’d yourself, to write in such a case.
Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet,
That ev'ry nice offence should bear it's comment.
Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemu'd to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for goid,
Cas. I an itching palm?
You know that you are Brutus that spake this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your
Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide it's head.
Cas. Chastisement !
Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember!.
Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?
What villain touch'd bis body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers ; shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ?
And sell the mighty meed of our large honours
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ?
I'd rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
Cas. Brutus, bay not me,
I'll not endure it ; you forget yourself,
To bedge me in ; I am a soldier 1,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
Bru. Go to; ou anot, Cassius.
Pru. I say you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself
Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther.
Bru. Away, slight man!
Cas. Is't possible?
Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?
Cas. O gods! ye gods! must I endure all this?
Bru.' All this? ay more.- Fret till your proud heart
Go, tell your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you ? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest tlie venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you : for from this day forth
I'll use you for my mirth, yea for my laughter,
When you are waspisli.
Cas. Is it come to this?
Bru. You say, you are a better soldier :
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well.
For mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
Cas. You wrong me ev'ry way—you wrong ine,
I said an elder soldier, not a better ;
Did I say better?
Bru. If you did, I care not.
Cas. When Cæsar liv’d, he durst not thus have mov'd me.
Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him.
Cas. I durst not!
Cas. What? durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your
Cas. Do not presuine too much upon my love;
do what I shall be
for. Bru. You have done that
slould be sorry for.
There is no terrour, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not.
I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which yoli
denied me; For I can raise no money by vile means.
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hand of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your
Dash him to pieces !
Cas. I denied
you not. Bru. You did.
Cas. I did not he was but a fool
That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath riv'd my heart.
A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do not.-Still you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.
Bru. I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A flatt'rer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the world ;
Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd by a bondman ; all his faults observd,
Set in a notebook, learn'd and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O! I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes !—There is my dagger,
And here ny naked breast-within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold !
If that thou need'st a Roman's, take it forth.
1, that denied thee gold, will give my heart :
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dst him better
Thau ever thou lov’dst Cassius.
Bru. Sheathe your dagger;
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humoirr.
O Cassius ! you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Which, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.
Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd,
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
Cas. O Brutus!
Bru. What's the matter?
Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful ?
Bru. Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth, When you are overearnest with
your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
Iago. My noble Lord
Oth. What dost thou say, Iago ?
Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my Lady, Know of
Oth. He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?
Iago. But for a satistaction of my thought,
No farther harm.
Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?
Iugo. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it.
Oth. O yes, and went between us very oft.
Iago. Indeed !
Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed. Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest?
Iago. Honest, my Lord ?
honest. Iago. My Lord, for anght I know.