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, Cas. Chas'tisement ! 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 choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch You shall digest the venom of your spleen, When you are waspish. Cas. Is it come to this? my laughter, 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. 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? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 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 A friend should bear a friend's infirmities; Bru. I do not like your faults. my heart. 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; 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 humor 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 room was one full-swelling bed. With wines high flavored and rich viands crowned; 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 ranged the dishes rose, and thick the glasses played. * Pron. kǎs'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. + Ne, no:. Here Freedom reigned without the least alloy; And eat, drink, study, sleep, as it may fall, The rooms with costly tapestry 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, Aërial music in the warbling wind, At distance rising oft, by small degrees, Here lulled the pensive melancholy mind; Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, *Hight, named, called; and sometimes it is used for is called. |