CAS. O gods! ye gods! must I endure all this?

CRU. All this? ay more. Fret till your proud heart break; Go, tell your flaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?
Muft I obferve you? Muft I fland and crouch
Under your tefty humour? By the gods,
You shall digeft the venom of your fpleen,
Tho' it do split you: for froin this day forth,
I'll ufe you for my mirth, yea for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

CAS. Is it come to this?

BRU. You fay, you are a better foldier ;
Let it appear fo; make your vaunting true,
And it fhall please me well. For mine own part,

I fhall be glad to learn of noble men.

CAS. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder foldier, not a better;

Did I fay better?

BRU. If you did, I care not.

CAS. When Cæfar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd

me.

BRU. Peace, peace; you durft not fo have tempted him. CAS. I durft not!

BRU. NO.

CAS. What? durft not tempt him?

BRU. For your life you durit not.

CAS. Do not prefume too much upon my love;

I may do what I fhall be forry for.

BRU. You have done that you should be forry for, There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats;

For I am arm'd fo strong in honefty,

That they pass by me as the idle wind,

Which I refpect not. I did fend to you

For certain fums of goid, which you deny'd me;

For I can raise no money by vile means.

By heav'n, 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 fend

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you deny'd me: was that done like Caffius ?
Should I have answer'd Caius Caffius fo?
When Marcus Brutus grows fo`covetous,
To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
Dash him to pieces.

CAS. I deny'd you not.

BRU. You did.

CAS. I did not-he was but a fool

That brought my answer back.

heart.

Brutus hath riv'd my

A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
BRU. I do not. Still you practise them on me.
CAS. You love me not.

BRU. I do not like your faults.

CAS. A friendly eye could never see fuch faults. BRU. A flatt'rer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

CAS. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge yourfelves alone on Caffius,

For Caffius is a-weary of the world;

Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd by a bondman; all' his faults obferv'd,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my teeth. O, I could weed

My fpirit from mine eyes!There is my dagger,.
And here my naked breaft-within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold!

If that thou need'st a Roman's, take it forth.
I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou did'st at Cæfar; for I know,

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'd'ft him better Than ever thou lov'd'ft Caffius.

BRU. Sheathe your dagger,

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour fhall be humour.
O Caffius; you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Which, much enforc'd, fhows a hafty fpark,
And ftraight is cold again.

CAS. Hath Caffius liv'd

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?
BRU. When I fpoke that, I was ill-temper'd 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 love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful?

BRU. Yes, Caffius, and from henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, -
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OTHELLO AND IAGO..

IAGO. My noble Lord,

Отн. What dost thou say, Iago?

SHAKSPEARE..

IAGO. Did Michael Caffio, when you woo'd my lady,

Know of your love?

Oтн. He did, from first to laft: why doft thou ask? IAGO. But for a fatisfaction of my thought, No farther harm.

Oтн. Why of thy thought, Iago?

IAGO. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it.
Отн. Oh, yes, and went between us very oft.
IAGO. Indeed!

Cтн. Indeed! ay, indeed. Difcern'ft thou aught in that?

Is he not honeft?

JAGO. Honest, my Lord?

OTH. Honeft! ay, honeft.

IAGO. My Lord, for aught I know.

OTH. What doft thou think?

IAGO. Think, my Lord!

OTH. Think, my Lord! Why, by Heav'n, thou

echo'ft me,

As if there were some monster in thy thought

Too hideous to be fhown.
I heard thee fay but now,
When Caffio left my wife.

Thou doft mean fomething: "thu lik'dft not that,"

What did❜ft not like?

And when I told thee, he was of my counfel,

In my whole courfe of wooing, thou cry'dft, "Indeed!" And didft contract and purfe thy brow together,

As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain

Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,

Show me thy thought.

JAGO. My Lord, you know I love you.

OTH. I think thou doft:

And, for I know, thou art full of love and honefty,

And weigh'ft thy words before thou giv'ft them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more.

For fuch things in a falfe difloyal knave

Are tricks of cuftom; but in a man that's juft,
They're cold dilations working from the heart,

That paffion cannot rule.

IAGO. For Michael Caffio,

I dare be fworn, I think, that he is honeft.

OTH. I think fo too.

IAGO. Men should be what they seem;

Or, those that be not, would they might feem knaves. Отн. Certain ! men fhould be what they seem. IAGO. Why, then I think Caffio's an honest man. Отн. Nay, yet there's more in this;

I pray thee fpeak to me as to thy thinkings;

As thou doft ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.

IAGO. Good, my Lord, pardon me : Though I am bound to every act of duty,

I am not bound to that all flaves are free to;

Utter my thoughts!-Why, fay, they're vile and false;
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breaft fo pure
But fome uncleanly apprehenfions

Keep leets and law-days and in feffions fit

With meditations lawful?

OTH. Thou doft confpire against thy friend, lago, If thou but think'it him wrong'd, and mak'ft his ear A ftranger to thy thoughts.

IAGO. I do beseech you,

Think I, perchance, am vicious in my guefs,
(As I confefs it is my nature's plague
To 'fpy into abufe; and oft my jealoufy
Shapes faults that are not) Lintreat you then,
From one that fo imperfectly conjects,
Your wisdom would not build yourself a trouble
Out of my scatter'd and unfure obfervance :
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.