I

Bru. No.

Cas. What? durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love;
may do that I shall be sorry for.

you

Bru. You have done that should be sorry for There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;

you

For I am armed 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 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 Casei

Should I have answered 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 rived heart. A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me.
Cas. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do apresi

As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is a-weary of the world :

Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Checked like a bondman; all his faults cbserved,
Set in a note book, learned and conned 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.

Bru. Sheathe your dagger:

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas. Hath Cassius lived

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?
Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.

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 from henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

SHAKSPEARE

PRINCE ARTHUR OF BRETAGNE.

PRINCE ARTHUR

HUBERT -ATTENDANTS.

Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand
Within the arras; when I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch.

1 Att. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you; look to it. — (Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. (Enter Arthur.)

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.

Hub. Good morrow, little prince.

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
To be more prince) as may be ;- You are sad.
Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth. Mercy on me!

So

Methinks nobody should be sad but I :
Yet I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,
were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practices more harm to me :
He is afraid of me, and I of him:

Is it my fault that I were Geoffrey's son?
No, indeed, is 't not; and I would to heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to day.

In sooth, I would you were a little sick;

That I might sit all night, and watch with you.

I warrant I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom..

(Aside.)

Read here, young Arthur. (Showing a paper.) How now, fool

ish rheum!

Turning dispiteous torture out the door!

I must be brief, lest resolution drop

Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.

Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?
Hub. Young boy, I must.

Arth. And will you?

Hub. And I will.

(Aside.)

Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache

I knit my handkerchief about your brows,

The best I had, a princess wrought it me,)

And I did never ask it you again:

And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour,

Still and anon cheered up the heavy time;

Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?
Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,

And ne er have spoke a loving word to you:
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning: do, an if you will:

If heaven be pleased that you should use me ill,
Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?

Hub. I have sworn to do it;

And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it:
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot,

Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench its fiery indignation,

Even in the matter of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron!
An if an angel should have come to me,

And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed no tongue but Hubert's.
Hub. Come forth.

Do as I bid you.

(Reenter Attendants, with cord, ironyms.)

Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out,
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas! what need you be so boisterous-rough:

I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.

For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!
Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the irons angrily;

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go stand within; let me alone with him.

1 Att. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. (Ex. Att's.) Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend:

He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:

Let him come back, that his compassion may

Give life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.

Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. O heaven! that there were but a mote in yours,

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue.
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:
Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert!
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
So I may keep mine eyes; O, spare mine eyes,
Though to no use, but still to look on you!
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,
And would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good sooth, the fire is dead with grief — Being create for comfort

-

- to be used

In undeserved extremes: See else yourself:

There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown its spirit out,
And strewed repentant ashes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert ›
Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes,
And, like a dog, that is compelled to fight,
Snatch at his master that does tarre him on.
All things, that you should use to do me wrong,
Deny their office; only you do lack

That mercy, which fierce fire and iron extends,
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses.

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes

For all the treasure that thine uncle owns;

Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy,

With this same very iron to burn them out.

Arth. Oh, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised.

Hub. Peace: no more: Adieu ! —

Your uncle must not know but you are dead:
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports.
And pretty child, sleep dauntless, and secure
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert.
Hub. Silence: no more. Go closely in with me:
Much danger do I undergo for thee.

SUAKSIEARE