And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;
I am no orator, as Brutus is:

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,

That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
I tell you that, which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb
mouths,

And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

ACT IV.

CEREMONY INSINCERE.

EVER note, Lucilius,

When love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony.

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith:
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,

Make gallant show and promise of their mettle:
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the trial.

THE TENT SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.

Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this: You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein, my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a case.

Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet That every nice* offence should bear his comment. Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold,

To undeservers.

Cas.

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 Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
Cas. Chastisement!

[ber!
Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remem-
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes?
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 in‡; 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?

Limit my authority.

Trifling. + Bait, bark at.
Terms, fit to confer the offices at my disposal.

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 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.

[Brutus ; Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, 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.

[him..

Bru. Peace, peace: you durst not so have tempted Cas. 1 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

* Coin.
BB

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 answer'd Caius Cassins 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 *

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.
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 apAs huge as high Olympus.

[pear
Cus. 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 lovd'st him
better

Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

* Split.

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.

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!