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Cassius. Is't possible?

Brutus. Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares?

Cassius. O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? Brutus. All this? Ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;

Go, show your slaves how cholerick 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 the 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 waspish.

Cassius.

Is it come to this?

Brutus 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.

Cassius. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus: I said an elder soldier, not a better.

Did I say better?

Brutus. If you did, I care not.

Cassius. When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me. Brutus. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him. Cassius. I durst not?

Brutus. No.

Cassius. What, durst not tempt him?

Brutus.

For your life, you durst not. Cassius. Do not presume too much upon my love,

I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Brutus. You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, 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

you

denied me ;

For I can raise no money by vile means:
I had rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did send

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius ?
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunder bolts,
Dash him to pieces!

Cassius.

Brutus. You did.
Cassius.

I denied you not.

I did not he was but a fool

That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv'd
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Brutus. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cassius. You love me not.

Brutus.

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I do not like your faults. Cassius. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Brutus. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Cassius. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come; Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is aweary of the world:

Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, 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 my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou did'st at Cæsar; for, I know,

When thou did'st hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Be

Brutus.

Sheath your dagger:
angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius! you are yoked with a lamb
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cassius.

Hath Cassius liv'd

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

Brutus. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.

Cassius. Do you confess so much; Give me your hand.
Brutus. And my heart too.

Cassius.

Brutus.

O Brutus!

What's the matter?

Cassius. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother
Makes me forgetful?

gave me

Brutus. Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

(Noise within. Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS.) Brutus. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders

Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

Cassius. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. (Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS.)

Brutus. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

Cassius. I did not think you could have been so angry.
Brutus. O Cassius! I am sick of many griefs.

Cassius. Of your philosophy you make no use,

If you give place to accidental evils.

Brutus. No man bears sorrow better:-Portia is dead.
Cassius. Ha! Portia ?

Brutus. She is dead.

Cassius. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so? O insupportable and touching loss !—

Upon what sickness?

Brutus. Impatience of my absence;

And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony

Have made themselves so strong; for with her death

That tidings came; with this she fell distract,

And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.

Cassius. And died so?

Brutus. Even so.

Cassius. O ye immortal gods. (Enter LUCIUS with wine

and tapers.)

Brutus. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

(Drinks.)

Cassius. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:

Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.—Sc. 3. (Drinks.)
Brutus. There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.—Id.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the passions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the variety of incidents, and the quick succession of one personage to another, call the mind forward, without intermission, from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the frequent changes of the scene; for except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleopatra, no character is very strongly discrimi nated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has discovered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, according to his real practice. But I think his diction not distinguishable from that of others: the most tumid speech in the play is that which Cæsar makes to Octavia. The events, of which the principal are described according to history, are produced without any art of connection or care of disposition.Johnson.

Antony. Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd .

Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;
Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome:

Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase: and taunt my faults
With such full licence, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O! then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick minds lie still: and our ills told us,
Is as our earing.-Act 1, Sc. 2.

Antony.

Most sweet queen,

Cleopatra. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going. But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,

Then was the time for words :-No going then ;

Eternity was in our lips and eyes:

Bliss in our brows' bent.-Sc. 3.

Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success

Be strew'd before your
Menecrates.

Upon your sword

feet!-Sc. 3.

Cæsar and Lepidus

Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry.

Pompey. Where have you this? 'tis false.

Menecrates.

From Silvius, sir.

Pompey. He dreams; I know they are in Rome together, Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love

Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip!

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts!
Keep his brain fuming: Epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite :
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till a Lethe'd dulness.-Act 2, Sc. 1.

Mecanas. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her.

Enobarbus. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus.

Agrippa. There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised well for her.

Enobarbus. I will tell you:

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,

Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold:

Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were lovesick with them: the oars were silver;
Which, to the tune of flutes, kept stroke, and made

The water, which they beat, to follow faster,

As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue),
O'erpicturing that Venus, where we see,
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling cupids,
With diverse-coloured fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.

Agrippa.

O! rare for Antony.
Enobarbus. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
And made their bends adornings; at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office. From the barge
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,

And made a gap in nature.

Agrippa.

Rare Egyptian!

Enobarbus. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,

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