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Which you

From the hard hand of peasants their vile trai
By any indirection. I did fend
'To you for gold to pay my legions,

denied me: was that done like Caffius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Call us fo?
When Marcus Brutus grow's so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts!
Dath him to pieces!

CAs. I denied you not.
BRU. - 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 the
CAS. You love me not.
BRÚ. 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 ; bray'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 breat--within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine; richer than gold !
If that thou need'ít a Roman's, take it forth,
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart :
Strike as thou didit at Cæsar; for I know,.

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When thou didit hate him worst, thou lov'dft him better
That ever thou lov'att Caffius.

BRU. Sheathe your dagger ;
Be angry when you will, it Mall have scope ;
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 enforced, shows a hafty spark,
And straight 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 spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Cai. 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 ine
Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth, When

you are overearnest with He'll think your mother chides, and leave you

ro.

SHAKSPEARE. CHAP. XXVII.

OTHELLO AND IAGO. laco. My noble LordOth. What doit thou say, Iago

Iaco. Did Michael Caffio, when you wou'd my Lady, Know of your love?

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

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

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

your Brutus,

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Orh. O yes, and went between us 'very oft.
IAGO. Indeed !

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

Iago. Honest, my Lord?
OTH. Honest! ay, honest.
Iaco. 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 shown. Thou doft mean something:
I heard thee fay but now, “ thou lik't not that,".
When Cassio left my wife. What did'st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my, counsel,
In my whole course of wooing, thou cried it, “ Indeed!"
And didit contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadft shut in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.

IAGO. My Lord, you know I love you.

Orh. I think thou doft:
And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath,
Therefore these ftops of thine fright me the more :
For fuch things in a false disloyal knave
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 Casio,
I dare be sworn, I think, that he is honeft.

Orh. I think so too.

I AGO. Men should be what they seem ; Or, those that be not, would they might feem knavesa Отн. . Certain! men should be what they seem.

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JAGO. 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 worft 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 Naves 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 Keep leets and law-days, and in feftions fit With meditation lawful?:

Oth. Thou doit conspire against thy friend, Iago.
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak't his eat
A ftranger 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,) l'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 doft thou mean?:

lago. Good name in man or woman, my dear 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 And makes me poor

indeed. Orh. 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!

IAGO. O beware, my Lord, of jealoufy!
It is a green-ey'd monster, which dosh mock
The nreat 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 Atrongly loves!

OTH. O misery!

Iago. 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 Heav'n! the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Oth. Why, why is this?
Think'it thou I'd make a life of jealousy?
'To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh fufpicions ! -'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 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, Iagn,
I'll fee, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love or jealousy.

Iago. 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 Caffio;

Wear

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