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Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, THE QUARREL OF FRIENDS.

And sell the mighty space of our large honors FROM “CHRISTABEL."

For so much trash as may be grasped thus ?

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, ALAS ! they had been friends in youth:

Than such a Roman. But whispering tongues can poison truth;


Brutus, bay not me, And constancy lives in realms above ;

I'll not endure it : you forget yourself, And life is thorny; and youth is vain;

To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I, And to be wroth with one we love

Older in practice, abler than yourself Doth work like madness in the brain.

To make conditions. And thus it chanced, as I divine,


Go to ; you are not, Cassiuc. With Roland and Sir Leoline !

Cas. I am. Each spoke words of high disdain

Bru. I say you are not. And insult to his heart's best brother ;

CAS. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself : They parted, - ne'er to meet again !

Have mind upon your health; tempt meno further. But never either found another

Bru. Away, slight man ! To free the hollow heart from paining.

Cas. Is 't possible ? They stood aloof, the scars remaining,


Hear me, for I will speak. Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;

Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? A dreary sea now flows between,

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder

Cas. O ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all Shall wholly do away, I ween,

this? The marks of that which once hath been.

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? THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND

Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch CASSIUS.

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 Cas. That you have wronged me doth appear I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, in this :

When you are waspish. You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, CAS.

Is it come to this ? For taking bribes here of the Sardians ;

BRU. You say you are a better soldier : Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, Because I knew the man, were slighted off. And it shall please me well : For mine own part, Bru. You wronged yourself to write in such a I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me, every way you wrong me, Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet

That every nice offence should bear his comment. I said an elder soldier, not a better;

Brv. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Did I say, better?
Are much condemned to have an itching palm, BRU.

If you did, I care not. To sell and mart your offices for gold,

CAS. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus To undeservers.

have moved me. Cas. I an itching palm ?

Bru. Peace, peace ! you durst not so have You know that you are Brutus that speak this, tempted him. Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Cas. I durst not ? BRC. The name of Cassius honors this corrup BRU. No. tion,

Cas. What! durst not tempt him?
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. BRU.


durst not. Cas. Chastisement !

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; Bro. Remember March, the ides of March re- I may do that I shall be sorry for. member!

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ?

for. What villain touched his body, that did stab, There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; And not for justice? What ! shall one of us, For I am armed so strong in honesty, That struck the foremost man of all this world, That they pass by me as the idle wind, But for supporting robbers, shall we now

Which I respect not.

I did send to you



For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; Cas.

O Brutus !
For I can raise no money by vile means :


What's the matter ?
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring me,
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, When that rash humor which my mother gave me
By any indirection. I did send

Makes me forgetful ?
To you for gold to pay my legions,

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and from henceforth,
Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius? When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? He 'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Bru. O Cassius! I am sick of many griefs.
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, CAs. Of your philosophy you make no use,
Dash him to pieces !

If you give place to accidental evils.
I denied you not.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better :- Portia is
BRU. You did.

dead. Cas.

I did not :

he was but a fool Cas. Ha! Portia ? That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath BRU. She is dead. rived my heart :

Cas. How 'scaped I killing, when I crossed you
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

so? -
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. O insupportable and touching loss !

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. Upon what sickness ?
Cas. You love me not.


Impatient of my absence,

I do not like your faults. And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Have made themselves so strong ; for with her
BRU. flatterer's would not, though they do death

That tidings came ; - with this she fell distract,
As huge as high Olympus.

And, her attendants absent, swallowed fire.
Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, CAS. And died so ?

BRU. Even so.
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

Cas. O ye immortal gods !
For Cassius is a-weary of the world :
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; Enter Lucius, with wine and tapers.
Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,

Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl

of wine : -
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. (Drinks.)
And here my naked breast; within, a heart

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold :

pledge. If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ;

Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. (Drinks.)
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 better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.


Sheath your dagger :

THEY tell me I am shrewd with other men ;
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;

With thee I'm slow, and difficult of speech.
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb

With others I may guide the car of talk :

Thou wing'st it oft to realms beyond my reach.
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ;
Who, inuch enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,

If other guests should come, I'd deck my hair,
And straight is cold again.

And choose my newest garment from the shelf ; Cas.

Hath Cassius lived when thou art bidden, I would clothe my heart To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

With holiest purpose, as for God himself. When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him ?

Bru. When I spokethat, I was ill-tempered too. For them I while the hours with tale or song,
Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your Or web of fancy, fringed with careless rhyme ;

But how to find a fitting lay for thee,
Bru. And my heart too.

Who hast the harmonies of every time ?



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MERRY Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,
Or hawk of the tower ;
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,
So maidenly,
So womanly
Her demeaning,
In everything
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write,
Of merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of good-will,
As fair Isiphil,
Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander ;
Steadfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought;
Far may be sought
Ere you can find
So courteous, so kind,
As merry Margaret,
This midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,
Or hawk of the tower.


'Twixt the souls of friend and friend : But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence' end, Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite

Heaven would in little show. Therefore Heaven nature charged

That one body should be filled With all graces wide enlarged :

Nature presently distilled Helen's cheek, but not her heart,

Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part,

Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was devised; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave.



On a hill there grows a flower,

Fair befall the dainty sweet ! By that flower there is a bower

Where the heavenly muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,

Fringéd all about with gold, Where doth sit the fairest fair

That ever eye did yet behold.

It is Phillis, fair and bright,

She that is the shepherd's joy, She that Venus did despite,

And did blind her little boy.

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Who would not that face admire ?

Who would not this saint adore ! Who would not this sight desire ?

Though he thought to see no more.

Why should this desert silent be ?

For it is unpeopled ? No; Tongues I 'll hang on every tree,

That shall civil sayings show: Some, how brief the life of man

Runs his erring pilgrimage; That the stretching of a span

Buckles in his sum of age : Some, of violated vows

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