SCENE III. Within the Tent of BRUTUS. LUCIUS and TITINIUS at some distance from it. Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this: Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. You know, that you are Brutus that speak this, Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement does therefore hide his head. 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, Bru. Cas. I am. Go to; you are not, Cassius. 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? Bru. 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 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: Did I say, Bru. better? If you did, I care not. Cas. When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me. Bru. For your life you durst not. 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 for. That they pass by me as the idle wind, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, Cas. Bru. You did. Cas. I denied you not. I did not he was but a fool, - That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath riv'd my heart: But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not like your faults. Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 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; brav'd by his brother; Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, My spirit from mine eyes. There is my dagger, Dearer than Plutus' mine, within, a heart 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 lov'dst him better Bru. Sheath your dagger. Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. Cas. Bru. 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? Bru. 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. There is some grudge between them; 't is not meet Luc. [Within.] You shall not come to them. Poet. For shame, you generals! What do you mean? [Exit Poet. Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. 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. Bru. [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. 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? O, insupportable and touching loss! Upon what sickness? Bru. Impatient of my absence, for with her death And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong; That tidings came. With this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. Cas. Bru. And died so? Even so. Cas. O, ye immortal gods! |