LESSON CCI. The Tent-scene between BRUTUS and CASSIUS.—Ibid. Cassius. THAT you have wronged me, doth appear in this : You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians s; Wherein, my letters (praying on his side, Brutus. You wronged yourself, to write in such a case. That every nice offence should bear its comment? Cas. I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember! Cas. Brutus, bay not me: I'll not endure it. You forget yourself, Bru. Go to! you're 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 further. 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? Cas. Must I endure all this! Bru. All this! Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break: Go, show your slaves how cholerick you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Cas. 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. Did I say better? Bru. If you did, I care not. Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him. Cas. I durst not! Bru. No. Cas. What? durst not tempt him? 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. There is no terrour, Cassius, in your threats; For I am armed 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:- 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? Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Cas. I denied you not. Bru. You did. Cas. I did not: he was but a fool That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart. 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. Cas You love me not. Bru. I do not like your faults. Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Cas. Come Antony! and young Octavius, come ! For Cassius is a-weary of the world Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart. When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope: Cas. Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Cas. O Brutus ! Bru. 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 henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, LESSON CCII. Description of the Castle of Indolence, and its inhabitants.— YE gods of quiet, and of sleep profound! Forgive me, if my trembling pen displays I, who have spent my nights and nightly days So that each spacious roem was one full-swelling bed. And every where huge covered tables stood, With wines high flavoured and rich viands crowned; Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food On the green bosom of this Earth are found, Fair ranged the dishes rose, and thick the glasses played. * This poem being writ in the manner of Spenser, the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in some of the lines, which borders on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation more perfect.-Author. Ne, nor. Here Freedom reigned without the least alloy; The rooms with costly tapestry were hung, Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale: Poured forth at large the sweetly tortured heart, Each sound, too, here, to languishment inclined, At distance rising oft, by small degrees, A certain musick, never known before, Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, Hight, narmed, called; and sometimes it is used for is called. |