Within. Stand! Caf. Moft noble brother, you have done me wrong. Bru. Judge me, you Gods! Wrong I mine enemies? And, if not fo, how fhould I wrong a brother? Bru. Brutus, this fober form of yours hides wrongs ; And when you do them Bru. Caffius, be content, Speak your griefs foftly.-I do know you well :- Which should perceive nothing but love from us, Caf. Pindarus, Bid our commanders lead their charges off Bru. Lucilius, do the like; and let no man Come to our tent, till we have done our conference. SCENE III. [Exeunt. The Infide of BRUTUS's Tent. Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS. Caf. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this : You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letter, praying on his fide, Because I knew the man, was flighted off. Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in fuch a cafe. Caf. In fuch a time as this, it is not meet That every nice offence fhould bear its comment.(2) Bru. Let me tell you, Caffius, you yourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; To fell and mart your offices for gold, To undefervers. Caf. I an itching palm ? You know, that you are Brutus that speak this, (2) i. e. Every small trifling offence. WARB. Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March, remember! Did not great Julius bleed for justice fake? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for juftice? What, fhall one of us, That ftruck the foremoft man of all this world, But for fupporting robbers; fhall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? And fell the mighty space of our large honours, For fo much trash, as may be grasped thus ?— I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,(3): Than fuch a Roman. Caf. Brutus, bay not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, To make conditions.(5) Bru. Go to; you are not, Caffius. Bru. I fay, you are not. Caf Urge me no more; I fhall forget myself; Have mind upon your health,-tempt me no further. Bru. Away, flight man ! Caf. Is't poffible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Muft I give way and room to your rash choler? Caf. O Gods! ye Gods! Muft I endure all this? break; Go, fhew your flaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge? (3) The poets and common people, who generally think and speak alike, fuppofe the dog bays the moon out of envy to its brightness; an allufion to this notion makes the beauty of the paffage in queftion. Brutus hereby infin uates a covert accufation against his friend, that it was only envy at Cæfar's glory which fet Caffius on confpiring against him; and ancient hittory feems to countenance fuch a charge. Caffius understood him in this fenfe, and with much conscious pride retorts the charge by a like infinuation, -"Brutus, bay not me." WARB (4) That is, to limit my authority by your direction or cenfure. JOHNS. (5) That is, to know on what terms it is fit to confer the offices which are at my difpofal. ib.. I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, Caf. Is it come to this? Bru. You fay, you are a better foldier: Caf. You wrong me every way; you wrong me,Brutus ; faid an elder foldier, not a better: Did I fay, better? Bru. If you did, I care not. Caf. When Cæfar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov❜d me. Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him. Caf. I durft not ! Bru. No. Caf. What! durft not tempt him? Bru. For your life, you durft not. Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my love; I may do that, I fhall be forry for. Bru. You have done that, you should be forry for. There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats; For I am arm'd fo ftrong in honefty, That they pass by me, as the idle wind, For certain fums of gold, which you deny'd me ;— To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you deny'd me: Was that done like Caffius? Caf. I deny'd you not. Bru. You did. Caf. I did not he was but a fool, (6) This is a noble fentiment, altogether in character, and expreffed in a manner inimitably happy. For to wring, implies both to get unjustly, and to ufe force in getting: and hard hands fignify both the peafant's great labour and pains in acquiring, and his great unwillingness to quit his hold. WARB. That brought my anfwer back.-Brutus, hath riv'd my heart: A friend should bear a friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not like your faults. Caf. A friendly eye could never see fuch faults. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Caffius, For Caffius is a-weary of the world: Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; When thou didst hate him worft, thou lov'ft him better Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be angry when you will, it fhall have fcope; Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Caf. O Brutus !— Bru. What's the matter? Caf. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rafh humour, which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful? (7) The meaning is this; I do not look for your faults, I only fee them, and mention them with vehemence, when you force them into my notice, by practising them on me.' JOHNS. Bru. Yes, Caffius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earneft with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. [A Noife within. Poet [within.] Let me go in to fee the generals; There is fome grudge between 'em; 'tis not meet They be alone. Luc. [within.] You fhall not come to them. Caf. How now? What's the matter? Poet. For fhame, you generals; what do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two fuch men fhould be ; For I have seen more years, I am fure, than ye. Caf. Ha, ha ;-how vilely doth this cynick rhime! Bru. Get you hence, firrah; faucy fellow, hence. Caf. Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time: What should the wars do with these jingling fools? Companion, hence. Caf. Away, away, be gone. Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Meffala with you, Immediately to us. Exe. LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Caf. I did not think, you could have been fo angry. Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs. Caf. Of your philofophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears forrow better :-Portia's dead. Caf. Ha! Portia ! Bru. She is dead. Caf. How fcap'd I killing, when I crofs'd you fo?— O infupportable and touching lofs! Upon what fickness ? Bru. Impatient of my abfence,. And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves fo ftrong; (for with her death That tidings came)-with this fhe fell diftract, Caf. And dy'd fo? VOL. VI. Y |