BRUTUS.
I say you are not.
CASSIUS.
Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther.
BRUTUS.
Away, slight man!
CASSIUS.
Is’t possible?
BRUTUS.
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
CASSIUS.
O ye gods, ye gods! Must I endure all this?
BRUTUS.
All this? ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;
Go show your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.
CASSIUS.
Is it come to this?
BRUTUS.
You say you are a better soldier:
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
CASSIUS.
You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus.
I said, an elder soldier, not a better:
Did I say better?