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For so much trash, as may be grafped thus ?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
Caf. Brutus, bay not me,
I'll not endure it; you forget your felf,
To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than your self
To make conditions.
Bru. Go to; you are not Caffius.
Caf. I am.
Bru. I say, you are not.
Caf. Urge me no more, I shall forget my felf
Have mind upon your health tempt me no farther.
Bru. Away, flight man!
Caf. 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 ftares ?
Caf. O Gods! ye Gods! must I endure all this?
Brü. All this! ay, more. Fret, 'till your proud heart
Go, Thew your faves how cholerick you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? muft I stand and crouch
Under your tefty humour? by the Gods,
You shall digeft 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 waspish.
Caf. Is it come to this?
Bru. You say, you are a better foldier ;
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,
I faid, an elder soldier ; not a better.
Did I say, better?
Bru. If you did, I care not.
Caf. When Cæfar liy'd, he durft not thus have moved
Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted
Caf. I durft not !-
Cas. What? durft not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durft not.
Caf. 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, Caffius, in your threats ;
For I am arm's so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me, as the idle wind,
Which I respect not.
I did send to you
For certain lums 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 drachma's, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile tralh,
Indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
denied me; was that done like Cafius?
Should I have answer’d Caius Caffius so ?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, Gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dalh him to pieces.
Caf. I deny'd you not.
Bry, You did.
Caf. I did not he was but a fool,
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv'd may
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.
Caf. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A fatt'rer's would not, tho they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
Cal. Come, Antony, and young Ottavius, come ;
Revenge your selves alone on Casius,
For Callius is a weary of the world;
Hated by one he loves ; bray'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 breaft- -within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' Mine, richer than gold;
If that thou beeft a Roman, take it forth.
I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart ;
Strike as thou didst at Cæfar ; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dt him
Than ever thou lov’dft Caffius.
Bru. Sheath your dagger;
when you will, it shall have scope ;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cafius, you are yoaked with a Lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforced, shews a balty spark,
And straight is cold again.
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.
Caf. Do you confess so much? give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
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.
[A noise within. Poet within. Let me go in to see the Generals ; There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet They be alone.
Luc. within. You shall not come to them.
Poet within. Nothing but death shall stay me.
Caf. How now? what's the matter ?
Poet. For shame, you Generals ; what do you mean?
Love, and be friends, as two such men should be ;
For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye.
Caf. Ha, ha-how vilely doth this Cynick rhime!
Bru. Get you hence, firrah'; faucy fellow, hence.
Caf. Bear with him, Brutus, 'tis his fashion.
Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his
What should the wars do with these jingling fools ?
Cal. Away, away, begone.
Inter Lucilius, and Titinius.
Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders
Prepare to lodge their companies to night.
Caf. And come your selves, and bring Mefala 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 Caffius, I am fick of many griefs.
Caf. Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils.
Bru. No man bears sorrow better- Porcia's dead. Caf. Ha! Porcia! Bru. She is dead. Caf. How 'scap'd I killing, when I croft you fo? O insupportable and touching loss ! Upon what sickness?
Bru. Impatient of my absence; And grief, that young O&avius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong: (for with her death That tydings came) With this the fell distract, And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire. Caf. And dy'd fo?
Bru. Even fo.
Caf. O ye immortal Gods!
Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers.
Bru. Speak no more of her : give me a bowl of wine.
In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius. [Drinks.
Caf. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-fwell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. Bru. Come in, Titinius ;-welcome, good Mel ala.
Enter Titinius, and Messala. Now fit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities.
Caf. Oh Porcia! art thou gone ?
Bru. No more, I pray you.
Mefala, I have here received letters,
That young Olavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty Power,
Bending their expedition toword Philippi.
Mes. My self have letters of the self-Came tenour.
Bru. With what addition ?
Mes. That by Profcription and bills of Outlawry,
O&avius, Antony, and Lepidus
Have put to death an hundred Senators.
Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree;
Mine speak of fev'nty Senators that dy'd
By their Profcriptions, Cicero being one.
Caf. Cicera one!-
Mes. Cicero is dead; and by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord ?
Bru. No, Meffala.
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Mefala.
Mes. That, methinks, is strange.
Bru. Why ask you hear you aught of her in yours?
Mef. No, my lord.
Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell ;
For certain the is dead, and by strange manner.