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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.--Brutus hath riy'd my

heart.
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 such faults.

BRU. A flatt'rer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come, Antony, and young O&avius, come!
Revenge yourselves alone on Caffius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the world ;
Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother ;
Check'd by a bondman; all his faults observ'd;
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. 0 I could weep
My spirit 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'ít a Roman's, take it forth.
I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou didit at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didit hate him worst, thou lov'd'ft him better
Than ever thou lov’d'it Cassius.

BRU. Sheathe your dagger;
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;

Do

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Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger, as the fint bears fire ;
Which much in forced, shews a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-tem perd vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke 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, Cassius, and from henceforth When you are over-earnest with

your

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

SHAKESPEARS

CH A P. XXVII.
O T H E L L O AND I A G O.

LAGO. Y noble Lord,
MY

Oth. What dost thou say, Iago ?
İACO. Did Michael Caffio, when you woo'd my Lady,
Know of your love?

Oth. He did, from first to last: why doft thou ask?

Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought,
No farther harm.
OTH. Why of thy thought, Iago ?
D d .

IACO. Iago. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it. OTH. Oh, yes, and went between us very oft. JAGO. Indeed !

OTH. Indeed! ay, indeed. Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honeft?

Iago. Honest, my Lord ?
Orh. Honest? ay,

honest.
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'st

me, As if there were some monster in thy thought, Too hideous to be shewn. Thou dost mean something : I heard thee fay but now, “ thou lik'ít not that,”. When Caffio left my wife. What didft not like! And when I told thee, he was of my counsel, In my whole course of wooing; thou cry'd'ft, “Indeed!"* And didft contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadft shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, Shew me thy thought.

Iaco. My Lord, you know I love you.

Oth. I think thou doft: And, for I know, thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh’it thy words before thou giv'it them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things, in a false disloyal knave, Are tricks of custom; but in a man's that's just, They're cold dilations working from the heart, That pallion cannot rule.

Iago. For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworn, I think, that he is honest.

OTH. I think so too.

Iago. Men should be what they seem ;
Or, those that be not, would they might seem knaves.

Oth. Certain ! men should be what they seem.
IAGO. Why, then I think Caffio's an honest man.

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this ;
I pray thee speak 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 slaves are free to ;
Utter my thoughts ! - Why, say, they're-vile and false ;
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keeps leets and law-days, and in feffions fit
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'it his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.

lago. I do beseech you,
Think I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
(As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To 'spy into abuse; and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not) I entreat you then,
From one that so imperfe&tly conjects,
Your wisdom would not build yourself a trouble
Out of my scattered and unsure observance :
İt were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Dd 2

No

Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Orh. What dost thou mean?
Iago. Good name in man or woman,

dear

my Lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls. Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands : But he that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor

indeed. OTH. I'll know thy thoughts Iago. You cannot,

if
my
heart were in

your

hand; Nor shall not, whilft 'tis in my custody.

OTH. Ha!

Tago. Oh, beware, my Lord, of jealousy;
It is a green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who doats, yet doubts; fufpects, yet strongly loves.

Oth. O misery!

Iaco. Poor and content, is rich and rich enough;
But riches endless, is as poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good Heaven ! the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Orh. Why, why is this?
Think'it thou I'd make a life of jealousy?
To follow itill the changes of the moon
With fresli suspicions ?—'Tis not to make me jealous,
To say, my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, fings, plays, and dances well:

Where

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