QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.
Cassius.-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 letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off.
Brutus.-You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.
Cassius. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offense should bear his comment.
Brutus.-Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.
I an itching palm?
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Brutus.-The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
Cassius.-Chastisement!
Brutus.-Remember March, the Ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for justice's sake?
What villain touch'd 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.
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.
Brutus.. Cassius.-I am.
Brutus.-I say you are not.
Go to; you are not, Cassius.
Cassius.-Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.
Brutus.-Away, slight man!
Cassius.-Is't possible?
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
Cassius.-O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this?
Brutus.—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? By the gods,
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.
Cassius.-Is it come to this?
Brutus.-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.
Cassius.-You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus
I said an elder soldier, not a better;
Did I say "better?"
Cassius.-When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Brutus.-Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. Cassius.-I durst not?
Cassius.-What? Durst not tempt him?
Cassius.-Do not promise too much upon my love;
I may do that I shall be sorry for.
Brutus. 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 thunder-bolts;
Dash him to pieces'
Cassius.-
Brutus.-You did.
Cassius.-I did not: he was but a fool that brought
My answer back. Brutus hath rived my
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Brutus.-I do not, till you practice them on me.
Cassius.-You love me not.
I do not like your faults.
Cassius. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Brutus. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
Cassius.-Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world:
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. Oh, 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 lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.
Sheathe 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.
Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus
When grief and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him?
Brutus.-When I spoke that I was ill-temper'd, too.
Cassius. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Brutus.-And my heart, too. (Embracing.)
What's the matter?
Cassius.-Have you not love enough to bear with me
When that rash humor which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?
Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
-Shakspere.
ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.
"Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,
In the sunshine, bright and strong,
For this world is fading, Pompey,
Massa won't be with you long;
And I fain would hear the south wind
Bring once more the sound to me,
Of the wavelets softly breaking
On the shores of Tennessee.
"Mournful though the ripples murmur,
As they still the story tell,
How no vessels float the banner
That I've loved so long and well.
I shall listen to their music,
Dreaming that again I see
Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop
Sailing up the Tennessee.
"And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting
For Death's last dispatch to come,
If that exiled starry banner
Should come proudly sailing home, You shall greet it, slave no longerVoice and hand shall both be free That shout and point to Union colors On the waves of Tennessee."
"Massa's berry kind to Pompey;
But old darkey's happy here,
Where he's tended corn and cotton
For dese many a long gone year.
Over yonder Missis' sleeping-
No one tends her grave like me.
Mebbe she would miss the flowers
She used to love in Tennessee.
""Pears like she was watching MassaIf Pompey should beside him stay, Mebbe she'd remember better
How for him she used to pray; Telling him that way up yonder White as snow his soul would be, If he served the Lord of heaven While he lived in Tennessee."
Silently the tears were rolling
Down the poor old dusky face,
As he stepped behind his master,
In his long accustomed place.
Then a silence fell around them
As they gazed on rock and tree
Pictured in the placid waters
Of the rolling Tennessee.
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