To fell, and mart your offices for gold, Caf. I an itching palm? You know, that you are Brutus, that speak this, Caf. Chaftisement! Bru, Remember March, the Ides of March remem- Did not great Julius bleed for juftice fake? Caf. Brutus, bay not me, I'll not endure it; you forget your self, Bru. Go to; you are not Caffius, Bru. I fay, you are not. Caf. Urge me no more, I fhall forget my felf Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, flight man. Caf. Is't poffible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Muft I give way and room to your rafh choler? Shall I be frighted, when a madman ftares? Caf. O Gods! ye Gods! muft I endure all this? Bru. All this! ay, more. Fret, 'till your proud heart break; Go fhew your flaves how cholerick you are, Muft Muft I observe you? muft I ftand and crouch Caf. Is it come to this? Bru. You fay, you are a better foldier Let it appear fo; make your Vaunting true, I fhall be glad to learn of noble men. Caf. You wrong me every way you wrong me, Brutus; I faid, an elder foldier; not a better, Did I fay, better? I Bru. If you did, I care not. Caf. When Cefar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted him, Caf. I durft not! Bru. No. Caf. What? durft not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durft not. Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my love; may do that, I fhall be forry for. Bru. You have done that, you should be forry for, There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats; For I am arm'd fo ftrong in honesty, That they pass by me, as the idle wind, Τα (28) By any Indirectnefs ] This is a Change of Mr. Pope's in both his Editions for what Reafon, I don't know. The Old Copies read, Indirection. It is a Word elsewhere uled by our Poet; and Mr. Pope has pais'd it quietly, in Polonius of Hamlet. And To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me; was that done like Caffius? When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous, Caf. I deny'd you not. Caf. I did not he was but a fool, Brutus hath riv'd my That brought my answer back. heart. A friend fhould bear a friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not like your faults. Caf. A friendly eye could never fee fuch faults. Bra. A flatt'rer's would not, tho' they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Caf Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come; Revenge your felves alone on Caffius, For Caffius is a weary of the world; Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; And thus do We of Wisdom and of Reach, (29) I do not, till you practise them on me. Bru. I do not: ftill you practise them on me. i. e. I deny the My My fpirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' Mine, richer than gold; And here my naked breaft If that thou beeft a Roman, take it forth. When thou didft hate him worst, thou lov'dft him better Than ever thou lovd'st Caffius. Bru. Sheath your dagger; Be angry when you will, it fhall have scope; Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Caf. O Brutus! Bru. What's the matter? Caf. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rafh humour, which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful? Bru. Yes, Caffius, and from henceforth When you are over-earneft with your Brutus, [A noife within, Luc. within. You shall not come to them. Caf. How now? what's the matter? Peet. For fhame, you Generals; what do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two fuch men fhould be; Caf. Ha, ha how vilely doth this Cynick rhime! Bru. Get you hence, firrah; fawcy fellow, hence. Caf. Bear with him, Brutus, 'tis his fashion. Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time; What should the wars do with thefe jingling fools? Companion, hence. Caf. Away, away, be gone. Enter Lucilius, and Titinius. [Exit Poet, Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to night. Caf. And come your felves, and bring Meffala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Caf. I did not think, you could have been fo angry. Bru. Caffius, I am fick of many griefs. Caf. Of your philofophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears forrow better Caf. Ha! Porcia! Bru. She is dead. Porcia's dead. Caf. How fcap'd I killing, when I croft you so? O infupportable and touching lofs! Upon what fickness? Bru. Impatient of my abfence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves fo ftrong: (for with her death That tydings came) With this fhe fell diftract, And (her attendants abfent) swallow'd fire, Caf. And dy'd so? Bru. Even fo. Caf. O ye immortal Gods! Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers. Bru. Speak no more of her: give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius. [Drinks. Caf. |