me,

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; Cas.

O Brutus ! For I can raise no money by vile means :

BRU.

What's the matter? By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, When that rash humor which my mother gave me By any indirection. I did send

Makes me forgetful ? To you for gold to pay my legions,

BRU. Yes, Cassius ; and from henceforth,
Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius ? When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? He 'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Bru. O Cassius ! I am sick of many griefs.
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use,
Dash him to pieces !

If you give place to accidental evils.
CAS.
I denied you not.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better :- Portia is BRU. You did.

dead. Cas.

I did not :-- he was but a fool CAS. Ha ! Portia ? That brought my answer back. Brutus hath BRU. She is dead. rived my heart :

Cas. How ’scaped I killing, when I crossed you A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

so ? -
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. O insupportable and touching loss !

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. Upon what sickness ?
CAs. You love me not.

BRU.

Impatient of my absence, BRU.

I do not like your faults. And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony CAS. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Have made themselves so strong ; - for with her BRU. A flatterer's would not, though they do death appear

That tidings came ; -- with this she fell distract, As huge as high Olympus.

And, her attendants absent, swallowed fire, Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, CAS. And died so ? come,

BRU. Even so.
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

Cas. O ye immortal gods !
For Cassius is a-weary of the world :
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; Enter LUCIUS, with wine and tapers.
Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,

Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep

of wine : My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. (Drinks.) And here my naked breast; within, a heart

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold :

pledge. If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ;

Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart.

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. (Drinks.) 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.

THE ROYAL GUEST. BRU.

Sheath your dagger :

They tell me I am shrewd with other men ; Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;

With thee I’m slow, and difficult of speech. Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb

With others I may guide the car of talk:

Thou wing'st it oft to realms beyond my reach. That carries anger, as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,

If other guests should come, I'd deck my hair, And straight is cold again.

And choose my newest garment from the shelf; CAS.

Hath Cassius lived when thou art bidden, I would clothe my heart To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

With holiest purpose, as for God himself. When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. For them I while the hours with tale or song, Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your Or web of fancy, fringed with careless rhyme ; hand.

But how to find a fitting lay for thee, BRU. And my heart too.

Who hast the harmonies of every time ?

SHAKESPEARE.

COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION.