Bru. Let me tell you Cassius, you your selfe
Are much condemn'd to haue an itching Palme,
To sell, and Mart your Offices for Gold
To Vndeseruers
Cassi. I, an itching Palme?
You know that you are Brutus that speakes this,
Or by the Gods, this speech were else your last
Bru. The name of Cassius Honors this corruption,
And Chasticement doth therefore hide his head
Cassi. Chasticement?
Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March reme[m]ber:
Did not great Iulius bleede for Iustice sake?
What Villaine touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for Iustice? What? Shall one of Vs,
That strucke the Formost man of all this World,
But for supporting Robbers: shall we now,
Contaminate our fingers, with base Bribes?
And sell the mighty space of our large Honors
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a Dogge, and bay the Moone,
Then such a Roman
Cassi. Brutus, baite not me,
Ile not indure it: you forget your selfe
To hedge me in. I am a Souldier, I,
Older in practice, Abler then your selfe
To make Conditions
Bru. Go too: you are not Cassius
Cassi. I am
Bru. I say, you are not
Cassi. Vrge me no more, I shall forget my selfe:
Haue minde vpon your health: Tempt me no farther
Bru. Away slight man