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; Wherein,

my letters (praying on his side, Because I knew the man) were slighted off.

Brutus. You wronged yourself, to write in such a case.

Cas. At such a time as this, is it not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment ?

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

Cas. 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 honors this corruption,
And chas'tisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cas. Chas'tisement !

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake ?
What villain touched 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 honors,
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, bay not me:
I'll not endure it. You forget yourself,
To hedge me in: I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to! you're not, Cassius.
Cas. 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 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?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas. 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 humor! 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.

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

for.
There is no terror, 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:-
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

To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him in pieces.

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.

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 a-weary of the worldHated by one he loves ; braved by his brother; Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, Set in a note-book, learned and conned, by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from my eyes !—There is my dagger, And liere 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 lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be angry when

you

will, it shall have scope :
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
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.

Cas. Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand.
Bru. And

heart too. Cas. O Brutus!

my

Bru. What's the matter ?

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humor which my mother gave me,
Makes me forgetful ?

Bru. Yes, Cassius; and henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

LESSON CCII.
Description of the Castle* of Indolence, and its inhabitants.

Thomson.
Ye gods of quiet, and of sleep profound !
Whose soft dominion o’er this castle

sways, And all the widely-silent places round,

Forgive me, if my trembling pen displays

What never yet was sung in mortal lays.
But how shall I attempt such arduous string,

I, who have spent my nights and nightly days
In this soul-deadening place, loose-loitering?
Ah! how shall I for this uprear my moulted wing?
The doors, that knew no shrill alarming bell,

Nef cursed knocker plied by villain's hand,
Self-opened into halls, where, who can tell

What elegance and grandeur wide expănd,

The pride of Turkey and of Persia lănd ?
Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread,

And couches stretched around in seemly band,
And endless pillows rise to prop the head;
So that each spacious room was one full-swelling bed.
And every where huge covered tables stood,

With wines high flavored and rich viands crowned ; Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food

On the green bosom of this Earth are found,

And all old Ocean genders in his round: Some hand unseen these silently displayed,

Even undemânded by a sign or sound ; You need but wish, and, instantly obeyed, Fair rānged the dishes rose, and thick the glăsses played.

the lyre,

Here Freedom reigned without the least alloy ;

Nor gossip's tale, nor ancient maiden's gall, Nor saintly spleen, durst murmur at our joy,

And with envenomed tongue our pleasures pall.

For why? there was but one great rule for all :
To wit, that each should work his own desire,
And eat, drink, study, sleep, as it may

fall,
Or melt the time in love, or
And carol what, unbid, the Muses might inspire.
The rooms with costly tă pestry were hung,

Where was inwoven many a gentle tale,
Such as of old the rural poets sung,

Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale :

Reclining lovers, in the lonely dale,
Poured forth at large the sweetly tortured heart;

Or, sighing tender passion, swelled the gale,
And taught charmed Echo to resound their smart,
While flocks, woods, streams, around, repose and peace im.

part. Each sound, too, here, to languishment inclined,

Lulled the weak bosom, and induced ease : Aërial music in the warbling wind,

At distance rising oft, by small degrees,

Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees
It hung, and breathed such soul-dissolving airs

As did, alăs! with soft perdition please :
Entangled deep in its enchănting snares,
The listening heart forgot all duties and all cares.
A certain music, never known before,

Here lulled the pensive melancholy mind;
Full easily obtained. Behoves no more,

But sidelong, to the gently waving wind,

To lay the well-tuned instrument reclined,
From which, with airy-flying fingers light,

Beyond each mortal touch the most refined,
The god of winas drew sounds of deep delight,
Whence, with just cause, the harp of Æolus it hight.*
Ah me! what hand can touch the string so fine ?

Who up the lofty diapason roll
Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine,

Then let them down again into the soul ?