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ALAS! they had been friends in youth:
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above;

And life is thorny; and youth is vain ;
And to be wroth with one we love

Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline!
Each spoke words of high disdain

And insult to his heart's best brother;
They parted, ne'er to meet again!

But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining.
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;
A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder
Shall wholly do away, I ween,

The marks of that which once hath been.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND
CASSIUS.

FROM "JULIUs cæsar.'

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CAS. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself:
Have mind upon your health; tempt me no further.
BRU. Away, slight man!
CAS. Is 't possible?
BRU.

Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

CAS. O ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this?

BRU. 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 humor? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you; for from this day forth

CAS. That you have wronged me doth appear I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,

in this :

You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

When you are waspish.

CAS.

Is it come to this?
BRU. 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,

BRU. You wronged yourself to write in such a I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

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You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
BRU. The name of Cassius honors this corrup-
tion,

And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
CAS. Chastisement !

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CAS. What! durst not tempt him?
BRU.
For your life you durst not.
CAS. Do not presume too much upon my love;

BRU. Remember March, the ides of March re- I may do that I shall be sorry for.

member!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touched his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What! shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers, shall we now

-

BRU. You have done that you should be sorry
for.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am armed so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me;
For I can raise no money by vile means:
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me: Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

CAS.

I denied you not.

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Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

For Cassius is a-weary of the world:
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned 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 Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst
him better

Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

BRU.
Sheath your dagger:
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.

O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;

Who, much enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

CAS.

Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him? BRU. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. CAS. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

BRU. And my heart too.

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THEY tell me I am shrewd with other men ; With thee I'm slow, and difficult of speech. With others I may guide the car of talk :

Thou wing'st it oft to realms beyond my reach. If other guests should come, I'd deck my hair, And choose my newest garment from the shelf; When thou art bidden, I would clothe my heart With holiest purpose, as for God himself.

For them I while the hours with tale or song,

Or web of fancy, fringed with careless rhyme; But how to find a fitting lay for thee,

Who hast the harmonies of every time?

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COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION.

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Her demeaning,
In everything
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write,
Of merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon

Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of good-will,
As fair Isiphil,
Coliander,
Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander;
Steadfast of thought,

Well made, well wrought;
Far may be sought
Ere you can find

So courteous, so kind,

As merry Margaret,

This midsummer flower,

Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower.

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"Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore Heaven nature charged
That one body should be filled
With all graces wide enlarged:
Nature presently distilled
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty,
Atalanta's better part,

Sad Lucretia's modesty.

Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was devised;

Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave.

SHAKESPEARE.

PHILLIS THE FAIR.

On a hill there grows a flower,

Fair befall the dainty sweet! By that flower there is a bower Where the heavenly muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,

Fringed all about with gold, Where doth sit the fairest fair

That ever eye did yet behold.

It is Phillis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherd's joy,
She that Venus did despite,

And did blind her little boy.

Who would not that face admire?
Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire?
Though he thought to see no more.
Thou that art the shepherd's queen,
Look upon thy love-sick swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.

NICHOLAS BRETON

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