Puslapio vaizdai

Caf. I an itching palm?
You know that you are Brutus, that speak this ;
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

Bru. The name of Calius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide its head:

Cas. Chastisement !
Bru. Remember March, the ides of March re.

Did not great Julius bleed for justice fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,
And not for justice? What! shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers ; fhall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ?
And fell the mighty space of our large honours
For so much

th, as may be grasped thus ? 1 had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

Caf. Brutus, bay not me,
l'll not endure it; you forget yourself,
To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
Brt. Go to ; you are not, (15) Caffius.

Caf: (15) You are net, Cafius.] See Mr. Warburton's note on the place; upon which Mr. Edwards in his Canons of Criticism, p. 93. obferves thus, “ If Mr. Warburton had not been giddy with his ideas of bravery, disinterestedness, philosophy, honour, and patriotism, which have nothing to do here, he would have seen, that Caffius is the vocative case, not the nominative ; and that Brutus does not mean to say, you are not an able foldier ; but he says, you are not an. abler than I; a point which it was far. from being beneath his character to infifton.

If the words, you are not Caffius, meant a new imputation on him for degeneracy, his mere denial of it is very flat, and Brutus replying to that denial, by a mere repetition of his former asertion, without adding any reason for it, is still worse ; whereas, if the words mean only a denial of what Caffius had just said, it is natural enough for each of them to maintain his ground, by a con

Caf. I am.
Bru. I say, you are not.

Caf. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself Have mind upon your health--tempt me no farther.

Bru. Away, flight man.
Caf. Is't poflible -

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rafh choler ?
Shall I be frighted, when a mad-man stares ?

Cas. O gods! ye gods! must I endure all this?
Bru. All this ! ay more. Fret, 'till your proud

heart breaks ; Go shew


saves 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, Tho'it do split you. For, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are wafpich.

Caf. 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.
Caf. You wrong me every way -you wrong me,

Brutus ;
I said, an elder soldier not a better.

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fident assertion of the truth of his opinion. And that the su. periority of soldiership was the point of their dispute, is most manifestly evident; by Brutus' resuming it a little lower,

You say you are a better foldier, &c.
Upon which Caffius answers,

You wrong me ev'ry way; you wrong me, Brutus,
I said an elder soldier ; not a better,
Did I say better "


Did I say, better?

Bru. If you did, I care not
Cal. When Cæsar liv'd, he durft not thus have

mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted

Caf. I durst not?
Bru. No.
Caf. What? durft not tempt him?
Bru. For



durft not.
Caf. Do not presume too much upon my love?
I may do that, I shall be forry for.

Bru. You have done that, you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your 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 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 drachmas, (16) than to

wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, By any indirection. I did fend To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me ; was that done like Cassius? Should I have answer'd Caius Caffius fo ? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends,

(16) Than to wring, &c.] This inimitable paffage is not only highly in character, but as Mr. Warburton has observ’d, is most happily exprefled. To wring implies both to get unjustly, and to use force in getting : And bard hands fignify both the peasants great labour and pains in acquiring, and his great unwillingness to quit his hold.”


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,
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv'd

my heart.

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A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, 'till you practise them on me.
Caf. You love me not.
Bru. I do not like your faults.

Casi. A friendly eye could never see such faults..
For Cassius is a weary 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 con’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's mine, richer than gold;
If that thou beest a Roman, take it forth.
I that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart;
Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar ; for I know,
When thou didst hate him. worst, thou lov'dít him

Than ever thou lov'd'ft Caflius,

Bru. Sheath your dagger ;
Be angry wiien you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour fall be humour.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger, as the fint bears fire
Who much enforced, thews a hafty spark,
And straight is cold again..


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Caf. Do

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.


confess so much ? Give me your hand. Bru. And my heart too.

Embracing. Cas. O Brutus ! Biu, What's the matter? Caf. 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


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

Caf. Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears forrow better--Porcia's dead,
Cas. Ha! Porcia !
Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How 'fcap'd I killing, when I croft you 0?
O insupportable and touching loss!
Upon what sickness ?

Bru. Impatient of my absence ;
And grief, that young Oétavius 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.

Caf. And dy'd fo?
Bru. Even so.
Caf. O ye immortal gods !

Enter boy with wine and tapers.
Bru. Speak no more of her ; give me a bowl of



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