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      CASSIUS.

       You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus.

       I said, an elder soldier, not a better:

       Did I say “better”?

      BRUTUS.

       If you did, I care not.

      CASSIUS.

       When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.

      BRUTUS.

       Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

      CASSIUS.

       I durst not?

      BRUTUS.

       No.

      CASSIUS.

       What, durst not tempt him?

      BRUTUS.

       For your life you durst not.

      CASSIUS.

       Do not presume too much upon my love;

       I may do that I shall be sorry for.

      BRUTUS.

       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

       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 Cassius 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!

      CASSIUS.

       I denied you not.

      BRUTUS.

       You did.

      CASSIUS.

       I did not. He was but a fool

       That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart:

       A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities,

       But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

      BRUTUS.

       I do not, till you practise them on me.

      CASSIUS.

       You love me not.

      BRUTUS.

       I do not like your faults.

      CASSIUS.

       A friendly eye could never see such faults.

      BRUTUS.

       A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear

       As huge as high Olympus.

      CASSIUS.

       Come, Antony and young Octavius, come,

       Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

       For Cassius is a-weary of the world;

       Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;

       Check’d like a bondman; all his faults observed,

       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 Caesar; for I know,

       When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better

       Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

      BRUTUS.

       Sheathe your dagger:

       Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;

       Do what you will, dishonor 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.

      CASSIUS.

       Hath Cassius lived

       To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

       When grief, and blood ill-temper’d, vexeth him?

      BRUTUS.

       When I spoke that, I was ill-temper’d too.

      CASSIUS.

       Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

      BRUTUS.

       And my heart too.

      CASSIUS.

       O Brutus,—

      BRUTUS.

       What’s the matter?

      CASSIUS.

       —Have not you love enough to bear with me,

       When that rash humor which my mother gave me

       Makes me forgetful?

      BRUTUS.

       Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth,

       When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,

       He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

       [Noise within.]

      POET.

       [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals:

       There is some grudge between ‘em; ‘tis not meet

       They be alone.

      LUCILIUS.

       [Within.] You shall not come to them.

      POET.

       [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

       [Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, and Titinius.]

      CASSIUS.

       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.

      CASSIUS.

       Ha, ha! How vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

      BRUTUS.

       Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!

      CASSIUS.

       Bear with him, Brutus; ‘tis his fashion.

      BRUTUS.

       I’ll know his humor when he knows his time:

       What should the wars do with these jigging fools?—

       Companion, hence!

      CASSIUS.

       Away, away, be gone!

      

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