And sell the mighty space of our large honours,
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?—
I had 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 hedge me int; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions .

Bru.

Cas. I am.

Go to; you're not, Cassius.

Bru. I say, you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. 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 ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this? Bru. 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.

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 every way, you wrong me, Brutus;

Bait, bark at.

+ Limit my authority.

Terms, fit to confer the offices at my disposal.

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?

Bru. No.

Cas. What? durst not tempt him?

Bru.

For your life you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love,

I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Bru. 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:
By heaven, 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

Το

you for gold to pay my legions,

Which 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 thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

Cas.

Bru. You did.

Cas.

I denied you not.

I did not: he was but a fool,

That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath riv'd t

my heart:

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cus. You love me not.

Bru.
I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do ap-

pear

As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. 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 observ'd,
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 didst at Cæsar; for, I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him

better

Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be 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.

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.

Bru.

O Brutus!

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, henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. [Noise within.

Poet. [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals; There is some grudge between them, 'tis not meet They be alone.

Luc. [Within.] You shall not come to them. Poet. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

Enter Poet.

Cas. How now? What's the matter?

Poet. For shame, you generals; What do you mean?

Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; For I have seen more years, I am sure, than ye.

Cas. Ha, ha; how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence. Cas. Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his

time:

What should the wars do with the jigging fools?
Companion, hence.

Cas.

Away, away; begone.

[Exit Poet.

Enter Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru. Lucinius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you,

Immediately to us.

Bru.

[Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

* Fellow.

Cas. I did not think, you could have been so

angry.

Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use,

If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better:- Portia is

dead.

Cas. Ha! Portia?

Bru. She is dead.

Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so?

O insupportable and touching loss !

Upon what sickness?

Bru.

Impatient 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.

Cas. And died so?

Bru. Even so.

Cas. O ye immortal gods!

Enter Lucius, with wine and tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl of

wine:

In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

[Drinks.

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'ers well the cup;

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks.

Re-enter Titinius, with Messala.

Bru. Come in, Titinius :- Welcome, good Messala.

Now sit we close about this taper here,

And call in question our necessities.
Cas. Portia, art thou gone?
Bru.

No more, I pray you.