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 frightened when a madman stares ?
Cas. Must I endure all this?
Bru. All this! ay, more. Fret till your proud heart breaks.
Go show your slaves how choleric your are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? Nay, Cassius,
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.
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?
Bru. No.
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 what 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 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:
No, Cassius, 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 answered Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock each rascal counter 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 my
A friend should bear a friend's infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do not. Still 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 did appear
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 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 my eyes! There is my dagger,
Here my naked breast.
Strike! as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou loved'st Cassius.
Bru. Sheathe your dagger.
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour;
O Cassius! you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire;
Which much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.
Cas. Has 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 my your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour 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.
THE TRIAL OF THE MACEDONIAN PRINCES.
PHILIP (the last), King of Macedon.
PERSEUS, his eldest son.
DEMETRIUS, his younger son.
DYMAS, the King's favourite.
PERICLES, the friend of PERSEUS.
ANTIGONUS, a Minister of State.
The King is seated. Dymas stands by the side of the King. The King's manner is dignified and solemn, and the peculiar circumstance of being the judge between his two sons, requires the tone of voice to be most solemn, and expressive of the feelings which must necessarily harass and distress his mind.
BRING forth the prisoners.
Strange trial this! here sit I to debate,
Which vital limb to lop, nor that to save
But render wretched life more wretched still.
What see I, but Heaven's vengeance in my sons;
Their guilty scourge for mine. 'Tis thus heaven writes
Its awful meaning plain in human deeds,
And language leaves to man.
[Enter Perseus and Demetrius in chains, from opposite sides; Perseus followed by Pericles, and Demetrius by Antigonus.
I have no sons, and that I ever had
Is now my heaviest curse. And yet, what care,
What pains I took to curb their rising rage!
How often have I ranged through history
To find examples for their private use.
The Theban brothers did I set before them-
What blood-what desolation! but in vain.
For thee, Demetrius, Did I go to Rome.
And bring thee patterns thence of brothers' love;
The Quintii and the Scipios. But in vain !
If I'm a monarch, where is your obedience?
If I'm a father, where's your duty to me?
If old, your veneration due to years?
But I have wept, and you have sworn, in vain!
I had your ear, -and enmity your heart.
How was this morning's counsel thrown away!
How happy is your mother in the grave!
She, when she suffered less,-her pangs,
Her pungent pangs throb through the father's heart.
You can't condemn me, Sire, to worse than this.
Than what, thou young deceiver? While I live,
You both with impious wishes grasp my sceptre:
Nothing is sacred, nothing dear, but Empire.
Brother, nor father, can you bear; fierce lust
Of Empire burns-extinguish'd all beside.
Why pant you for it? To give others awe?
Be therefore awed yourself, and tremble at it,
While in a father's hand.
They that should shelter me from every blast,
To be themselves the storm. O how Rome triumphs!
Oh, how they bring this hoary head to shame!
Conquest and fame, the labour of my life,
Now turn against me, and call in the world
To gaze at what was Philip, but who now
Wants e'en the wretch's privilege-a wish!
What can I wish? Demetrius may be guiltless,
What then is Perseus? Judgment hangs as yet
Doubtful o'er them: but I'm condemned already,
For both are mine.
Should these two hands wage war (these hands less dear)
What boots it which prevails? In both I bleed.
But I have done. Speak, Perseus, and at large,
You'll have no second hearing. Thou forbear.*
Perseus. Speak!+ 'Twas with utmost struggle I forbore.
These chains were scarce design'd to reach my tongue;
Their trespass is sufficient, stopping here.
+ Perseus is a villain and a consummate hypocrite, and has long been aiming at the life of his brother. His manners are plausible, but his defence breathes an expression of defiance. His hypocrisy should be rendered evident by the speaker, although it be apparently concealed by the garb of honesty.
These chains! for what? Are chains for innocence?
Not so; for see, Demetrius wears them too,
Fool that I was to tremble at vain laws,
Nor learn from him defiance of their frown;
Since innocence and guilt are used alike-
Blood-thirsty stabbers and their destined prey-
PERSEUS and HE-I will not call him brother,
He wants not that enhancement of his guilt.
But closer to the point; and lay before us
Your whole deportment this ill-fated day.
Perseus. Scarce was he cool from that embrace this morning,
Which you enjoined, and I sincerely gave,
Nor thought he planned my death within my arms,
When holding vile, oaths, honor, duty, love,
He fired our friendly sports to martial rage.
If war, why not fair war? But that has danger.
From hostile conflict, as from brother's play,
He blushed not to invite me to his banquet;
I went not; and in that was I to blame?
Think you, there nothing had been found but peace,
From whence, soon after, sallied armed men?
Think you I nothing had to fear from swords,
When from their foils I scarce escaped with life?
Or poison might his valour suit as well.-
This pass'd, as suits his wisdom, Macedonians!
Who vaults o'er elder brothers to a throne;
With an armed rout, he came to visit me,
Did I refuse to go, a bidden guest?
And should I welcome him, a threat'ning foe?
Resenting my refusal-boiling for revenge !
Antigonus. Forbear. The king.
Perseus. Had I received them,
You now had mourned my death, not heard my cause.
Dares he deny he brought an armed throng?
Call those I name; who dare this deed, dare all;
Yet will not dare deny that this is true.
My death alone can yield a stronger proof;
Will no less proof than that content a FATHER?
Pericles. Perseus, you see, has art, as well as fire;
Nor have the wars worn Athens from his tongue.
Perseus. Let him who seeks to bathe in brother's blood,
Not find well pleased the fountains whence it flow'd;
Let him, who shudders at a brother's knife,
Find refuge in the bosom of a Father.
For where else can I fly? whom else implore?
I have no ROMANS, with their eagles' wings,
To shelter me-Demetrius borrows those,
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