BRUTUS.
You did.
CASSIUS.
I did not. He was but a fool
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv’d my heart.
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
BRUTUS.
I do not, till you practise them on me.
CASSIUS.
You love me not.
BRUTUS.
I do not like your faults.
CASSIUS.
A friendly eye could never see such faults.
BRUTUS.
A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
CASSIUS.
Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the world:
Hated by one he loves; brav’d by his brother;
Check’d like a bondman; all his faults observ’d,
Set in a note-book, learn’d and conn’d by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth.
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.
BRUTUS.
Sheathe your dagger.
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
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-temper’d vexeth him?