Cas. Hath Cassius lived
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.
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 not you love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother gave me 120