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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
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Cas. I an itching palm?
Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
Cas. Chas'tisement !
Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember!
Cas. Brutus, bay not me:
Bru. Go to! you're not, Cassius.
Cas. Urge me no more : I shall forget myself:
Bru. Away, slight man!
Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.
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;
Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus;
Was that done like Cassius ?
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Cas. I denied you not.
Cas. I did not: he was but a fool
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.
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
will, it shall have scope :
Cas. Hath Cassius lived
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
heart too. Cas. O Brutus!
Bru. What's the matter ?
Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
Bru. Yes, Cassius; and henceforth,
sways, And all the widely-silent places round,
Forgive me, if my trembling pen displays
What never yet was sung in mortal lays.
I, who have spent my nights and nightly days
Nef cursed knocker plied by villain's hand,
What elegance and grandeur wide expănd,
The pride of Turkey and of Persia lănd ?
And couches stretched around in seemly band,
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.
* Pron. kăs'sl.
+ 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. I Ne, noi, * Hight, named, called; and sometimes it is used for is called.
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 :
Where was inwoven many a gentle tale,
Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale :
Reclining lovers, in the lonely dale,
Or, sighing tender passion, swelled the gale,
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
As did, alăs! with soft perdition please :
Here lulled the pensive melancholy mind;
But sidelong, to the gently waving wind,
To lay the well-tuned instrument reclined,
Beyond each mortal touch the most refined,
Who up the lofty diapason roll
Then let them down again into the soul ?