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Cas. You love me not.
Bru. I do not like
Caf. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A fatt'rer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.
Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come;
Revenge yourselves alone on Callius,
For Caffius is a weary of the world:
Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd like a bondinan; all his faults observ'd,
Set in a notc-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My fpirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
And here my nake? breaft; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutues'inine, richer than gold.
If thou be'st a. Roman, take it forth ;
* I, that deny'd thee go d, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst at Cefar; for, I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dit him better
Than ever thou lov’dft Cassius.
Bru. Sheath your dagger:
Be angry wlien you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cufius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the fint bears fire ;
Who, much enforced, shews a hasty fpark,
And straight is cold again.
Caf. Hath Casius 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-temper'd too.
Caf. Do you confess so 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 raih 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
Enter Lucilius and Titinius.
Bru. Lucinius and Titinius, bid the commanders
Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.
Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Melala with you,
Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.
Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine.
Caf. I did not think you could have been so angry.
Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
Caf. Of your philosophy you inake no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.
Bru. No man bears forrow better. Portia's dead.
Caf. Ha! Portia!
Bry. She is dead.
Caf. How 'scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you fo?
O insupportable and touching lofs !
Upon what sickness?
Bru. Impatient of my abfence;
And grief that young O&avius, with Mark Antony,
Have made themselves so strong (for with her death
That tidings came) ; with this The fell distract,
And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.
Caf. And dy'd fo?
Bru. Even so.
Caf. O ye immortal Gods!
Bru. Speak no more of her.
No. XX.--TIMON OF ATHENS.
Act. IV, SCENE III. The Woods,
Blessed, breeding Sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity ; below thy lister's orb
Infect the air. Twinn'd brothers of one wornb,
Whose procreation, residence, and birth,
Scarce is dividant, touch with several fortunes ;
The greater scorns the lefler. Not even nature,
To whom all fores lay fiege, can bear great forlune
But by contempt of nature.
Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord ;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar native honour.
It is the paftor lards the brother's fides,
The want that makes him leave. Who dares, who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say, this mau's a flatterer? If one be,
So are they all ; for every greeze of fortune
Is fmooth'd by that below. The learned pate
Ducks to the geiden fool. All is oblique ;
There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorr'd,
All feais, societies, and throngs of men !
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains.
Destruction fang mankind -Earth, yie'd me roots !
[Digging the earth.
Who fceks for better of thee, fauce his palate
With thy most operant poison !
What's here? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold?
No, Gods, I am no idle votarist.
Roots, you clear iscavens !
Of this will make black, white ; fair, foul ; wrong, right;
Base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant.
You Gods! Why, this ---What! this, you Gods ? - Why,
this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides; Pluck ftout men's pillews from below their heads. This yellow lave Will knit and break riigions; bless th' accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them tifle, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench: this is it, That makes the wappen’d widow wed again ; She whom the spital-house, and ulcerous fores, Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices To th' April day again. Come, damned earth! Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st odds Among the rout of nations, I will make thee Do thy right nature.-[March afar off:) Ha! a drum?
- Thou'rt quick, But
yet I'll bury thee. Thou'lt go, strong thief, When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [Keeping fome goldó Enter Alcibiades, with drum and fife in warlike manner, and
Phrynia and Timandra. Alc. What art thou there? Speak.
Tim. A beast, as thou art. Cankers gnaw thy heart, For shewing me again the eyes of man!
Alc. What is thy name? Is man fo hateful to thee,
That art thyself a man?
Tim. I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
For thy part, I do with thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee fomething.
Alc. I know thee well;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd, and strange.
Tim. I know thee too, and more than that I know thee,
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum';
With man's blood paint the ground. Gules ! gules !
Religious canons, civil laws, are cruel;
Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubin look.
Phry. Thy lips rot off!
Tin. I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns To thine own lips again.
Alc. How came the noble Timon to this change?
Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to give :
But then renew I could not, like the moon;
There were no suns to borrow of.
Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?
Tim. None, but to maintain my opinion.
Alc. What is it, Timon ?
Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none.
If thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee,
For thou art a man; if thou dost perform,
Confound thee, for thou art a man!
Ale. I have heard in some sort of thy miserics.
Tim. Thou saw'ft them when I had prosperity.
Alc. I see them now; then was a blessed time.
Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
Timani Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world Voic'd fo regardfully?
Tim. Art thou Timandra?
Tim. Be a whore ftill. They love thee not that use thee,
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their luft ;
Make use of thy falt hours, season the flaves
For tubs and baths, bring down the rose-cheek'd youth
To th' tub-fast, and the diet.
Timan. Hang thee, monster!
Alc. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits
Are drown'd, and loft in his calamities.
- I have but little gold of late, brave Timon ;
The want whereof doth daily make revolt
In my penurious band. I heard and griev'd
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them.
Tim. I pr’ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
Alc. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
Tim. How dost thou pity him, whom thou doft trouble? I'd rather be alone.
Alc. Why, fare thee well.
Here's gold for thee.
Tim. Keep it, I cannot eat it.
Alc. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap-
Tin. Warr'ít thou 'gainit Athens?
Alc. Ay, Timon, and have cause.
Tim. The gods confound them all then in thy conquest, And after, thee, when thou hast conquered !
Alc. Why me, Timon?
Tim. That by killing of villains thou wast born to con-
quer my country.
Put up thy gold. Go on-Here's gold-Go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when move
Will o'er fome high-vic'd city hàng his poison
In the fick air. Let not thy sword skip one.
Pity not honour'd Age for his white beard ;
He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit marron;
It is her habit only that is honest;