To fell, and mart your offices for gold,
To undefervers.

Caf. I an itching palm?

You know, that you are Brutus, that speak this,
Or, by the Gods, this fpeech were elfe your laft.
Bru. The name of Caffius honours this corruption,
And chaftisement doth therefore hide its head.

Caf. Chaftisement!

Bru, Remember March, the Ides of March remem-
ber!

Did not great Julius bleed for juftice fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,
And not for juftice? what, fhall one of us,
That ftruck the foremost man of all this world,
But for fupporting robbers; fhall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes?
And fell the mighty Ipace of our large honours
For fo much trash, as may be grafped thus ?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than fuch a Roman.

Caf. Brutus, bay not me,

I'll not endure it; you forget your self,
To hedge me in; I am a foldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than your self
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to; you are not Caffius,
Caf. I am.

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,
And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?

Muft

Muft I observe you? muft I ftand and crouch
Under your tefty humour? by the Gods,
You fhall digeft the venom of your spleen,
Tho' it do fplit you. For, from this day forth,
I'll ufe you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Caf. Is it come to this?

Bru. You fay, you are a better foldier

Let it appear fo; make your Vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,

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,
Which I refpect not. I did fend to you
For certain fums of gold, which you deny'd me;
For I can raise no money by vile means;
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachma's, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trafh,
By any indirection. I did fend (28)

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?
Should I have answer'd Caius Caffius fo?

When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous,
To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends,
Be ready, Gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

Caf. I deny'd you not.
Bru. You did.

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, 'till you practise them on me. (29)
Caf. You love me not.

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;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults obferv'd;
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my teeth. O I could weep

And thus do We of Wisdom and of Reach,
With Windlaces, and with Affays of Byass,
By Indirections find Directions out.

(29) I do not, till you practise them on me.
e.] But, furely, this was a
very poor Excufe for the Philofophick Brutus to make. He is accus'd
for making his Friends Faults greater than they were; he replies, I
do not; till they were injurious to my felf. Why, a Friend could
have no Motive of Intereft, or Paffion, to aggravate a Friend's Faults,
till they were directed against himself: And that was the Point, he
was to justify himself upon, why he aggravated fuch Faults: which
furely, is an unjust Practice. I read therefore;

Bru. I do not: ftill you practise them on me. i. e. I deny the
Charge; and muft tell you further, that this Charge is an Addition
to your Faults." This, if I mistake not, gives Senfe and Propriety.
Mr. Warburton.

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.
I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart;
Strike, as thou didst at Cafar; for I know,

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;
Do what you will, dishonour fhall be humour,
O Caffius, you are yoaked with a Lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who much enforced, fhews a hasty spark,
And ftraight is cold again.

Caf. Hath Caffius 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.
Caf. Do you confefs fo much? give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
[Embracing.

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,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you fo.

[A noife within,
Poet. within. Let me go in to see the Generals;
There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet
They be alone.

Luc. within. You shall not come to them.
Poet. within. Nothing but death shall stay me,
Enter Poet.

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;
For I have seen more years, I'm fure, than ye.

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.