Bru. A flatterer'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-braved by his brother- When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Bru. Sheathe your dagger; Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Cas. Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him? Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. 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 over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. II.-MACDUFF, PRINCE MALCOLM, AND ROSSE.-Shakspeare. Macd. See, who comes here? Mal. My countryman; but yet I know him not. Macd. My ever-gentle cousin!_welcome hither. Kind Powers! betimes remove Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas, poor country, Almost afraid to know itself!-it cannot Be called our mother, but our grave; where nothing, Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rend the air, Is there scarce asked, for whom; and good men's lives Macd. Oh, relation Too nice, and yet too true! Mal. What is the newest grief? Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does my wife? Rosse. Why, well. Macd. And all my children? Rosse. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not battered at their peace? Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did leave them. Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out, Mal. Be't their comfort We're coming thither: gracious England hath Rosse. 'Would, I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words, Macd. What concern they? The general cause? Or is it a fee-grief, Rosse. No mind that's honest But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it! Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Macd. Ah! I guess at it! Rosse. Your castle is surprised, your wife and babes Were, on the quarry of these murdered deer, Mal. Merciful Powers! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brow; Rosse. Wife. children, servants, all that could be found. Rosse. I have said. Mal. Be comforted. Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children -All my pretty ones? Did you say all? what, all?-Oh, hell-kite!--all? Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. I shall do so! But I must also feel it as a man. I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me: did heaven look on, Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword, let grief Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; III.-HENRY IV., NORTHUMBERLAND, AND HOTSPUR.-Shakspeare. King Henry. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities; And you have found me; for, accordingly, You tread upon my patience: but, be sure, I will, from henceforth, rather be myself, Mighty, and to be feared, than my condition, Which has been smooth as oil, soft as young down, Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. Those prisoners, in your highness' name demanded, Hotspur. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them-untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse, He questioned me; among the rest, demanded I, then, all smarting with my wounds-being galled, Out of my grief, and my impatience, Answered, neglectingly--I know not what- He should, or he should not; for he made me mad, And talk, so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds-O, save the mark! And, I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation, Betwixt my love and your high majesty. North. The circumstance considered, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said, To such a person, and in such a place, King Henry. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners; But with proviso and exception That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home? Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears, Hotspur. Revolted Mortimer! He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war. To prove that true, Needs no more but one tongue, for all those wounds, He did confound the best part of an hour, In changing hardiment with great Glendower. Three times they breathed, and three times did they drink, Who, then, affrighted with their bloody looks, Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Then, let him not be slandered with revolt! King Henry. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou beliest him! He never did encounter with Glendower. Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland, IV. PRINCE HENRY AND SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.-Shakspeare. Prince H. Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been? Falstaff. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? Prince H. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitifulhearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun! If thou didst, then behold that compound. Falstaff. You rogue, here's lime in this sack, too!-there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it: a villainous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and grows old. A bad world I say!-I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still! Prince H. How now, woolsack! what mutter you? Falstaff. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom, with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects before me like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales! Prince H. Why, what's the matter? Falstaff. Are you not a coward? Answer me to that. Prince H. Why, ye fat paunch, an' ye call me coward, I'll stab thee. Falstaff. I call thee coward! I'll see thee hanged ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pounds I could run as fast as |