Cassi. Is it come to this? Bru. You say, you are a better Souldier: Let it appeare so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine owne part, I shall be glad to learne of Noble men

Cass. You wrong me euery way: You wrong me Brutus: I saide, an Elder Souldier, not a Better. Did I say Better? Bru. If you did, I care not

Cass. When Caesar liu'd, he durst not thus haue mou'd me

Brut. Peace, peace, you durst not so haue tempted him

Cassi. I durst not

Bru. No

Cassi. What? durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durst not

Cassi. Do not presume too much vpon my Loue, I may do that I shall be sorry for

Bru. You haue 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 passe by me, as the idle winde, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certaine summes of Gold, which you deny'd me, For I can raise no money by vile meanes: By Heauen, I had rather Coine my Heart, And drop my blood for Drachmaes, then to wring From the hard hands of Peazants, their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for Gold to pay my Legions, Which you deny'd me: was that done like Cassius? Should I haue answer'd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus growes so Couetous, To locke such Rascall Counters from his Friends, Be ready Gods with all your Thunder-bolts, Dash him to peeces

Cassi. I deny'd you not

Bru. You did

Cassi. I did not. He was but a Foole That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riu'd my hart: A Friend should beare his Friends infirmities; But Brutus makes mine greater then they are

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me

Cassi. You loue me not

Bru. I do not like your faults

Cassi. A friendly eye could neuer see such faults

Bru. A Flatterers would not, though they do appeare As huge as high Olympus

Cassi. Come Antony, and yong Octauius come, Reuenge your selues alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the World: Hated by one he loues, brau'd by his Brother, Check'd like a bondman, all his faults obseru'd, Set in a Note-booke, learn'd, and con'd by roate To cast into my Teeth. O I could weepe My Spirit from mine eyes. There is my Dagger, And heere my naked Breast: Within, a Heart Deerer then Pluto's Mine, Richer then Gold: If that thou bee'st a Roman, take it foorth. I that deny'd thee Gold, will giue my Heart: Strike as thou did'st at Caesar: For I know, When thou did'st hate him worst, y loued'st him better Then euer thou loued'st Cassius

Bru. Sheath your Dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall haue scope: Do what you will, Dishonor, shall be Humour. O Cassius, you are yoaked with a Lambe That carries Anger, as the Flint beares fire, Who much inforced, shewes a hastie Sparke, And straite is cold agen

Cassi. Hath Cassius liu'd To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus, When greefe and blood ill temper'd, vexeth him? Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too

Cassi. Do you confesse so much? Giue me your hand

Bru. And my heart too

Cassi. O Brutus! Bru. What's the matter? Cassi. Haue not you loue enough to beare with me, When that rash humour which my Mother gaue me Makes me forgetfull

Bru. Yes Cassius, and from henceforth When you are ouer-earnest with your Brutus, Hee'l thinke your Mother chides, and leaue you so. Enter a Poet.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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