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By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hand 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 answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts !
Dash him to pieces !
Cas. I denied

you

not. Pru. You did.

Cas. I did not-he was but a fool
That brought my answer back.—Brutus hath riv’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 Octavius, come!
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the world ;
Hated by one he loves ; bravd by his brother;
Check'd by a bondman; all his faults observ'd,
Set in a notebook, learn'd and conu'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 veed'st a Roman's, take it forth.
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dst him better
Thau ever thou lov'dst 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. Hath Cassius liv'd,
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood il-temper'd, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand,
Brú. 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 overearnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

SHAKSPEARE,

CHAP. XXI.

OTHELLO AND IAGO.

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Iago. My noble Lord
Oth. What dost thou say, lago ?
Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you

woo'd

my Lady, Know of your love?

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

lago. Put for a satisfaction of my thought, No farther harm.

Oth, Why of thy thought, Iago ?
Iugo. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it.
Oth.

O yes, and went between us very oft.
Iago. Indeed !

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

Iago. Honest, my Lord ?
Oth. Honest ! ay, honest.
Iago. My Lord, for aught I know.

my counsel

Oth. What dost thou think?
Jago. 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 shown. Thou dost mean something:
I heard thee say but now," thou lik'st not that,” –
When Cassio left my wife. What did'st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, “ Indeed!
And didst contract and purse 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.

Iago. My Lord, you know I love you,

Oth. I think thou dost :
And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
For such things in a false disloyal kŋave
Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just,
They're cold dilations working from the heart,
That passion 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 kpaves.

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

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this ;
I pray thee speak to me as to thy thinkings;
As thou dost ruminate ; and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.

Iago. Good, my Lord, pardon me;
Though I am bound to ev'ry act of duty,
Lam 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

my Lord,

Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit
With meditation lawful?

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

lago. I do beseechi 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 imperfectly conjects,
Your wisdom would not build yourself a trouble
Out of my scatter'd and unsure observance:
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,
To let

you

know my thoughts. Oth. What' dost thou mean?

Iago. Good name in man or woman, dear 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, while 'tis in my custody.

Oth. Ha!

lago. O beware, my Lord, of jealousy !
It is a green-ey'd monster, wbich doth niock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss, ,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger ;
But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
Who doats, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves !

Oth. O misery!

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

Oth. Why, why is this?
Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy

To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions ?—Tis not to make me jealous
To say, my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well :
Where virtue is, these make more virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt,
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, lago,
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love or jealousy.

Tago. I'm glad of this : for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit. Therefore, as I'm bound,
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio ;
Wear your eye thus ; not jealons, nor secure!
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of self-bounty be abus'd; look to't.
I know our country disposition well;
In Venice they do let Heav'n see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands.

Oth. Dost thou say so?

Iago. She did deceive her father, marrymg you; And when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.

Oth. And so she did.

Iago. Go to then ; She that, so young, could give out such a seeming, To seal her father's eyes up, close as oakHe thought 'twas witchcraft-But I'm much to blame I humbly do beseech you of your pardon, For too much loving you. Oth. I am bound to

you

for Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. Oth. Not a jot; not a jot. Iago. Trust me, I fear it has : I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you're mov'd I am to pray you, not to strain my speech To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,

ever.

Than to suspicion.

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