Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Bru. Sheathe your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Cas. Hath Cassius lived. To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 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 long 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. THE TRIUMPH OF JULIUS CÆSAR. · FLAVIUS MARULLUS CITIZENS. Flav. Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home: Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk, Upon a laboring day, without the sign Of your profession ?-Speak, what trade art thou? Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Mar. What trade, thou knave; thou naughty knave, what trade? if 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, be out, sir, I can mend you. you Mar. What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor woman's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather, have gone upon my handiwork. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? 2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! And do you now put on your best attire? Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Fla. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, Draw them to Tiber's banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. (Exeunt Citizens.) See, where'er their basest metal be not moved, They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way toward the capitol; If you do find them decked with ceremonies. Mar. May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. Flav. It is no matter; let no images Who else would soar above the view of men, [Shakspeare. PART V. DIALOGUES-COMIC. PASSION FOR ARGUMENT. SIR ROBERT BRAMBLE, HUMPHREY DOBBINS AND FREDERICK. Sir Robert Bramble. I tell you what, Humphrey Dobbins, there isn't a syllable of sense in all you have been saying; but, I suppose, you will maintain that there is? Humphrey Dobbins. Yes. Sir. R. Yes! Is that the way you talk to me, you old boar? What's my name? Dob. Robert Bramble. Sir. R. Ar'n't I a baronet, Sir Robert Bramble, of Blackberry Hall, in the county of Kent? 'Tis time you should know it; for you have been my clumsy, two-fisted valet-de-chambre these thirty years. Can you deny that? Dob. Umph! Sir. R. Umph! What do you mean by umph? Open the rusty door of your mouth, and make your ugly voice walk out of it. Why don't you answer my question? Dob. Because, if I contradicted you there, I should tell a lie; and whenever I agree with you, you are sure to fall out. ( 283 ) |