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Brutus. If thou deny me this, thou giv'st me nothing. Yes, Titus, since the gods have so decreed That I must lose thee, I will take the advantage Of thy important fate; cement Rome's flaws, And heal her wounded freedom with thy blood. I will ascend myself the sad tribunal, And sit upon my son — on thee, my Titus: Behold thee suffer all the shame of death, The lictor's lashes, bleed before the people; Then, with thy hopes and all thy youth upon thee, See thy head taken by the common axe, Without a groan, without one pitying tear (If that the gods can hold me to my purpose), To make my justice quite transcend example. Titus. Scourged like a bondman! But I deserve it all; yet, here I fail; The image of this suffering quite unmans me. O, Sir! O, Brutus! must I call you Yet have no token of your tenderness? No sign of mercy? What! not bate me that? Can you resolve on all the extremity
Ha! a beaten slave!
Of cruel rigor? To behold me, too;
To sit, unmoved, and see me whipped to death!
Ah, Sir, why should you make my heart suspect
Brutus. Think that I love thee, by my present passion,
Nor shake my solid virtue from her point,
Titus. O, rise, thou violated majesty !
For want of spirits, grovelling in the dust,
CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON IMMORTALITY. — Addison. Born, 1672; died, 1719.
Ir must be so. - Plato, thou reasonest well!
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
I'm weary of conjectures, this must end 'em.
Thus am I doubly armed. My death and life,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
23. QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.-Shakspeare.
Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this:
Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case.
Cas. At such a time as this, it is not meet
+ Plato's Treatise
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Cas. I an itching palm?
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember
Cas. Brutus, bay not me!
I'll not endure it. You forget yourself,
Bru. Go to! you are not, Cassius.
Bru. I say you are not!
Cas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health; tempt me no further! Bru. Away, slight man!
Cas. Is 't possible?
Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
Cas. Must I endure all this?
Bru. All this? ay, more! Fret till your proud heart break!
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Cas. Is it come to this?
Bru. 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. Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus ; I said, an elder soldier, not a better. Did I say better?
Bru. If you did, I care not!
Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me Bru. Peace, peace: you durst not so have tempted him! Cas. I durst not?
Cas. What? durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life, you durst not!
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for.
Bru. You have done that you should be sorry
Το you for gold to pay my legions,
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
Cas. I denied you not.
Bru. You did.
Cas. I did not: - he was but a fool
Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Brutus hath rived my heart.
Bru. I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
As huge as high Olympus.
Cas. 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;
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. O Brutus!
Bru. What's the matter?
Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
Bru. Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth,
24. REGRETS OF DRUNKENNESS.-Shakspeare.
Tago. What! be you hurt, Lieutenant ?
Iago. Marry, Heaven forbid!
Cassio. Reputation! reputation! reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself; and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!
Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound: there is more offence in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving. What, man! There are ways to recover the General again. Sue to him, and he is yours.