But for supporting robbers; shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?—
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,

Bru. I say, you are not.1

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 choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? 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.

1 The old copy reads, "Brutus, bait not me." Theobald made the alteration, which has been adopted by all subsequent editors except Malone. Bay and bait are both frequently used by Shakspeare in the

same sense.

2 i. e. to limit my authority by your direction or censure.

3 To know on what terms it is fit to confer the offices at my disposal. 4 "This passage (says Steevens) may be easily reduced to metre if we read:

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 ;

I said an elder soldier, not a better.

Did I say, better?

Bru.

If

you did, I care not.

Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have

moved 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 armed 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

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

Dash him to pieces!

Cas.

Bru. You did.

your

thunderbolts,

I denied you not.

Cas.

I did not; he was but a fool

That brought my answer back.—Brutus hath rived 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.1
Cas. 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 appear 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; braved by his brother;
Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned, and conned 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, dishonor shall be humor.
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 lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.

1 The meaning is this :-"I do not look for your faults, I only see them, and mention them with vehemence, when you force them into my notice, by practising them on me."

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 humor, 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.
[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.1

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 humor when he knows his time. What should the wars do with these jigging fools ?2 Companion, hence.

Cas.

Away, away, be gone.

Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS.

[Exit Poet.

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

1 Shakspeare found the present incident in Plutarch. The intruder, however, was Marcus Phaonius, not a poet, but one who assumed the character of a cynic philosopher.

2 i. e. these silly poets. A jig signified a ballad or ditty, as well as a dance. See note on Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2.

3 Companion is used as a term of contempt in many of the old plays as we say at present, fellow!

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with

you, Immediately to us.

Bru.

[Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

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.
Cas. Ha! Portia ?

Bru. She is dead.

Portia is dead.

Cas. How scaped I killing, when I crossed 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, swallowed fire.1

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.

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

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

[Drinks.

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.

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.

1 This circumstance is taken from Plutarch. It is also mentioned by Valerius Maximus, iv. 6. Portia is, however, reported by Pliny to have died at Rome of a lingering illness while Brutus was abroad.