JULIUS CAESAR. William Shakespeare

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

       BRUTUS.

       I do not, till you practise them on me.

       CASSIUS.

       You love me not.

       BRUTUS.

       I do not like your faults.

       CASSIUS.

       A friendly eye could never see such faults.

       BRUTUS.

       A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear

       As huge as high Olympus.

       CASSIUS.

       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;

       Check’d like a bondman; all his faults observed,

       Set in a note-book, learn’d and conn’d by rote,

       To cast into my teeth. O, 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 Caesar; for I know,

       When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better

       Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

       BRUTUS.

       Sheathe your dagger:

       Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;

       Do what you will, dishonor shall be humour.

       O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb

       That carries anger as the flint bears fire;

       Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,

       And straight is cold again.

       CASSIUS.

       Hath Cassius lived

       To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

       When grief, and blood ill-temper’d, vexeth him?

       BRUTUS.

       When I spoke that, I was ill-temper’d too.

       CASSIUS.

       Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

       BRUTUS.

       And my heart too.

       CASSIUS.

       O Brutus,—

       BRUTUS.

       What’s the matter?

       CASSIUS.

       —Have not you love enough to bear with me,

       When that rash humor which my mother gave me

       Makes me forgetful?

       BRUTUS.

       Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth,

       When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,

       He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

       [Noise within.]

       POET.

       [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals:

       There is some grudge between ‘em; ‘tis not meet

       They be alone.

       LUCILIUS.

       [Within.] You shall not come to them.

       POET.

       [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

       [Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, and Titinius.]

       CASSIUS.

       How now! What’s the matter?

       POET.

       For shame, you generals! what do you mean?

       Love, and be friends, as two such men should be;

       For I have seen more years, I’m sure, than ye.

       CASSIUS.

       Ha, ha! How vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

       BRUTUS.

       Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!

       CASSIUS.

       Bear with him, Brutus; ‘tis his fashion.

       BRUTUS.

       I’ll know his humor when he knows his time:

       What should the wars do with these jigging fools?—

       Companion, hence!

       CASSIUS.

       Away, away, be gone!

       [Exit Poet.]

       BRUTUS.

       Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders

       Prepare to lodge their companies tonight.

       CASSIUS.

       And come yourselves and bring Messala with you

       Immediately to us.

       [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.]

       BRUTUS.

       Lucius, a bowl of wine!

       [Exit Lucius.]

       CASSIUS.

       I did not think you could have been so angry.

       BRUTUS.

       O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

       CASSIUS.

       Of your philosophy you make no use,

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