Bru. What’s the matter?
Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humor which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?
Bru. Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
[CURTAIN.]
Shakespeare.
TABLEAU.—Friendship Restored.