That carries anger as the flint bears fire:
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.
Cassius: Hath Cassius liv’d
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus
When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?
Brutus: When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cassius: Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Brutus: And my heart too.
Cassius: O Brutus!