Bru. You have 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 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;
For I can raise no money by vile means :
By heaven 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 you denied me: Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to 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 riv’dt

a

my heart:

A friend should bear his 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. Ças. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do apAs huge as high Olympus.

[pear Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world :

† Split.

* Coin.

BB

a

Hated by one he loves : brav'd by his brother: Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth.

0, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes !—There is my dagger, And here 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 lov’dst him Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

better Bru.

Sheath your dagger : Be angry when you will, it shall have

scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
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 liv'd
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill temper'd, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too. Cas. Do

you

confess so much; Give me your Bru. And

my
heart too.

[hand. 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, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Bru. O Cassius, I.am sick of many griefs.

Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better :-Portia is
Cas. Ha! Portia ?

[dead. Bru. She is dead.

Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you O insupportable and touching loss ! [so? Upon what sickness ? Bru.

Impatient of my absence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong ;—for with her

death That tidings came. With this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.

Cas. And died so ?
Bru. Even so.
Cas. O ye immortal gods !

Enter Lucius, with Wine and Tapers.
Bru. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl

of wine : In this I'll bury all unkindness, Cassius. [Drinks.

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge: Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus’ love. [Drinks.

OPPORTUNITY TO BE SEIZED ON ALL OCCASIONS OF

LIFE.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

a

ACT V.

THE PARTING OP BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.

Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble

Roman,
That ever Brutus will

go

bound to Rome; He bears too great a mind. But this same day Must end that work, the ides of March begun; And whether we shall meet again, I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take : For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius ! If we do meet again, why we shall smile ; If not, why then this parting was well made.

Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus !
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed ;
If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made.
Bru. Why, then, lead on.—0, that a man might

know
The end of this day's business, ere it come!
But it sufficeth, that the day will end,
And then the end is known.

MELANCHOLY, THE PARENT OF ERROR.
O hateful error, melancholy's child !
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not! O error, soon conceiv'd,
Thou never com’st unto a happy birth,
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee.

ANTONY'S CHARACTER OF BRUTUS.
This was the noblest Roman of them all :
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar ;
He, only, in a general honest thought,

And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, This was a man!

KING LEAR.

ACT I.

A FATHER'S ANGER.
Let it be so,-Thy truth then be thy dower :
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun;
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
By all the operations of the orbs,
From whence we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity* and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee from thist, for ever. The barbarous

Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes
Το

gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, As thou my sometime daughter,

BASTARDY.

Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound: Wherefore should I Stand in the plagues of custom; and permit The curiosityll of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard ? wherefore base?

a