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Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new planted orchards,
On that fide Tiber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Cafar! When comes fuch another?
1 Pleb. Never, never! Come, away, away!
We'll burn his body in the holy place,

And with the brands fire all the traitors' houses!
Take up the body.

2 Pleb. Go, fetch fire!

3 Pleb. Pluck down benches!

4 Pleb. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing!

[Exeunt Plebeians with the body. Ant. Now let it work. Mifchief, thou art a foot; Take thon what courfe thou wilt!

No. XIX.-JULIUS CÆSAR.

ACT IV. SCENE III. The infide of Brutus's Tent.

Brutus and Caffius.

CASSIUS.

THAT you have wrongs, doth appear in this,

wrong'd me,

You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letter, praying on his fide,
Because I knew the man, was flighted off.

Bru. You wrong'd yourfelf to write in fuch a cafe.
Caf. In fuch a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence fhould bear its comment.
Bru. Let me tell you, Caffius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
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 speech were else your last.

Bru.

Bru. The name of Caffius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.
Caf. Chastisement !

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

Caf. Brutus, bait not me;

I'll not endure it. You forget yourself,
To edge me in. I am a foldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
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 myselfHave mind upon your health-tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, flight man!

Caf. Is't poffible?-

Bru Hear me, for I will fpeak;

Muft I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares?

Caf. O Gods! ye gods! muft I endure all this?
Bru. All this! ay, more. Fret, till your proud heart

breaks;

Go, fhew your flaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?
Muft I obferve you? Muft I ftand and crouch
Under your tefty humour? By the Gods,
You fhall digeft the venom of your spleen,
Though 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.

Bru. You fay, you are a better foldier: Let it appear fo; make your vaunting true, And it fhall 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 said, an elder foldier; not a better.

Did I fay better?

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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 presume too much upon my love;

may do that I shall be forry for.

Bru. You have done that you
fhould be forry for.
There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats;
For I am arm'd fo ftrong in honesty,
That they pafs 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 raife 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 fend

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you deny'd me.

Was that done like Caffius?
Should I have anfwer'd Caius Cafius fo?
When Marcus Brutus grows lo 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

That brought my anfwer back.-Brutus hath riv'd my heart:
A friend fhould bear his friend's infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do not, till you practife them on me.

Caf.

Caf. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Caf. A friendly eye could never fee fuch faults. Bru. A flatt'rer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come; Revenge yourselves 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
My fpirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold.
If thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ;

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

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dít him better
Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger:

Be angry when you will, it fhall have scope;
Do what you will, difhonour fhall be humour.
O Caffius, you are yoked 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 lived

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?
Bru. When I fpoke 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 rash humour, which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Caffius; and from henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you fo.

Enter

Enter Lucilius and Titinius.

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

Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Meffala with 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. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs.

Caf. Of your philofophy you make no ufe,
If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears forrow better. Portia's dead.
Caf. Ha! Portia!

· Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How 'fcap'd I killing, when I crofs'd you fo? 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 tidings came); with this fhe fell distract,
And, her attendants abfent, fwallow'd fire.
Caf. And dy'd fo?

Bru. Even fo.

Caf. O ye immortal Gods!

Bru. Speak no more of her.

N°. XX.-TIMON OF ATHENS.

ACT. IV. SCENE III. The Woods.

Enter Timon.

ΤΙΜΟΝ.

Bleffed, breeding Sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity; below thy fifter's orb
Infect the air. Twinn'd brothers of one womb,
Whofe procreation, refidence, and birth,
Scarce is dividant, touch with feveral fortunes;
The greater fcorns the leffer. Not even nature,
To whom all fores lay fiege, can bear great fortune

But

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