ACT IV.
3. SCENE III. within the tent of Brutus.
(continued)
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!
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