Abbildungen der Seite


Within the Tent of BRUTUS.
Lucius and Titinius at some distance from it.

Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this:
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.

Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear his comment.

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn’d to have an itching palm;
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

I an itching palm ?
You know, that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement does therefore hide his head.

Cas. Chastisement!

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember. Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What! shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world, But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours, For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. Cas.

Brutus, bait not me, I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,

To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I,
Oldea in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Go to; you are not, Cassius.

I am.
Bru. I say, you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself:
Have mind upon your health; tempt me no farther.

Bru. Away, slight man!
Cas. Is 't possible?

Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares ?

Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this?

Bru. All this? ay, more? Fret, till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea , for

my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Is it come to this?
Bru. You say, you are a better soldier:
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus;
I said, an elder soldier, not a better :

better? Bru.

If you did, I care not. Cas. When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so bave tempted him. Cas. I durst not? Bru. No. Cas. What! durst not tempt him?

Did I say,


For your life you durst pot.
Cas. 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

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


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!

I denied you not.
Bru. You did.

I did not: he was but a fool,
That brought my answer back. - Brutus hath riv'd my heart :
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.

I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary 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 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 Cæsar; for, I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou loy'dst him better
Than ever thou loy’dst Cassius.

Sheath your dagger.
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour 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.

Hath Cassius liy'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.
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart, too.

O Brutus!

What's the matter?
Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour, which my mother gave me,
Makes me forgetful?

Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He ʼll 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 them; 't is not meet
They be alone.

Luc. [Within.] You shall not come to them.
Poet. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

Enter Poet.
Cas. 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 am sure, than ye.

Cas. Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme.
Bru. Get you hence, sirrah: saucy fellow, hence.
Cas. Bear with him, Brutus; 't is his fashion.

Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time.
What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
Companion, hence.

Away, away! be gone. [Exit Poet.

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

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you,
Immediately to us.

[Exeunt Lucilius and TITINIUS, Bru,

Lucius, a bowl of wine.
Cas. I did not think, you could have been so angry.
Bru. O Cassius! I am sick of many griefs.

Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better. - Portia is dead.
Cas. Ha! Portia ?
Bru. She is dead.

Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so?
0, insupportable and touching loss!
Upon what sickness?

Impatient of my absence,
And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves so strong; for with her death
That tidings came. - With this she fell distract,
And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.

Cas. And died so?
Bru. Even so.
Cas. 0, ye immortal gods!

« ZurückWeiter »