Enter Caffius and foldiers.

Bru. Hark, he is arriv'd;

March gently on to meet him.

Caf. Stand, ho!

Bru. Stand, ho! fpeak the word along.

Within. Stand!

Within. Stand!

Within. Stand!

Caf. Moft noble brother, you have done me wrong. Bru. Judge me, you Gods! wrong I mine enemies? And if not fo, how fhould I wrong a brother?

Caf. Brutus, this fober form of yours hides wrongs, And when you do them

Bru. Caffius, be content,

Speak your griefs foftly, I do know you well.
Before the eyes of both our armies here,

(Which should perceive nothing, but love, from us)
Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away;
Then in my Tent Caffius enlarge your griefs,
And I will give you audience.

Caf. Pindarus,

Bid our commanders lead their charges off

A little from this ground.

Bru. Lucilius, do the like; and let no man

Come to our tent, 'till we have done our conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard the door.

[Exeunt.

(27) Caf. That you bave wrong'dme, &c.] This famous QuarrellingScene, which has given rife to fo many imitations, (particularly, in the Maid's Tragedy; Mr. Dryden's alteration of Troilus and Creffida ; and in his Don Sebaftian ;) and which was receiv'd with so much applaufe, that it is fpoken of in one of the preliminary copies of verses to the first folio impreffion of Shakespeare's works,

You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein, my letter (praying on his fide,
Because I knew the man) was flighted of.

Bru. You wrong'd yourfelf to write in fuch a cafe.
Caf. I fuch a time as this, it is not meet
That ev'ry nice offence fhould bear its comment.
Bru. Yet let me tell you, Caffixs, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
To fell, and mart your offices for gold,
To undefervers.

Caf. I an itching palm ?

You know, that you are Brutus, that fpeak this;
Or, by the Gods, this fpeech were elfe your last.
Bru. The name of Caffius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.
Caf Chattifement!

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for juftice fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,
And not for juftice? what, fhall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for fupporting robbers; fhall we now
Contaminate our fingers with bafe bribes?
And fell the mighty space of our large honours
For fo much trafh, as may be grafped thus ?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than fuch a Roman.

Or till I hear a fcene more nobly take,

Than what thy half-fword parlying Romans fpake. Yet this fcene feems to me to have been fneer'd at by the fwordsmen in Beaumont and Fletcher's King and no King: as of late years it has met with a glancing attack, by way of banter, in a scene betwixt Peachum and Lockit in the Beggar's Opera-On the other hand, jour Dryden had fo juft an opinion of this fine fcene, that he has made no fcruple to prefer it to the quarrel of Agamemnon and Menelaus, in the Iphigenia in Aulis of Euripides. The particular ground-work, "Jays be, which Shakespeare has taken, is incomparably the best; "because he has not only chofen two of the greatest heroes of the "age, but has likewise interested the liberty of Rome and their own "honours, who were the redeemers of it, in the debate." Preface to Troilus and Creffida,

Caf. Brutus, bay not me,

I'll not endure it you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a foldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to; you are not Caffius.
Caf. I am.

Bru. I fay, you are not.

Caf. Urge me no more, I fhall forget myselfHave mind upon your health-tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, flight man.

Caf. Is't poffible?

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.

Muft I give way and room to your rash choler
Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares ?

Caf. O Gods! ye Gods! muft I endure all this? Bru. All this! ay, more. Fret, 'till your proud heart break;

Go fhew your flaves how cholerick you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?
Muft I obferve you? must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? by the Gods,
You fhall digeft the venom of your fpleen,
Tho' it do split you: For, from this day forth,
I'll ufe you for mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Caf. Is it come to this?

Bru. You fay, you are a better foldier; Let it appear fo; make your vaunting true, And it fhall please me well.

For mine own part,

I fhall be glad to learn of noble men.

[tus;

Caf. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Bru

I faid, an elder foldier; not a better.

Did I fay, better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

[me.

Caf. When Cafar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd

Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted him. Caf. I durft not!

Bru. No.

Caf. What? durft not tempt him ?

Bru

Bru. For your life you durft not.

Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my love; 1 may do that, I fhall be forry for.

Bru. You have done that, you should be forry for. There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats;

For I am arm'd fo ftrong in honefty.

That they pafs by me, as the idle wind,
Which I refpect not. I did fend to you
For certain fums of gold, which you deny'd me
For I can raise no money by vile means;
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachma's, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
(28) By any indirection. I did fend
To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me; was that done like Caffius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Caffius fo?

When Marcas Brutus grows fo covetous,
To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends,
Be ready, Gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dafh him to pieces!

Caf. I deny'd you not.

Bru. You did.

Caf. I did not-he was but a fool,

[heart.

That brought my anfwer back.-Brutus hath riv'd my A friend fhould bear a friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, 'till you practife them on me. (29)

Caf.

(28) By any indirectnefs.] This is a change of Mr. Pope's in both his editions; for what reason, I don't know. The old copies read, Indirection. It is a word elsewhere used by our poet; and Mr. Pope has pass'd it quietly, in Polonius of Hamlet.

And thus do we of wifdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with affays of byafs,
By Indirections find Directions cut.

(29) I do not, till you practise them on me.] But, furely, this was a very poor excufe for the philofophick Brutus to make. He is accus'd for making his friend's faults greater than they were; he replies, I do not; till they were injurious to myself. Why, a friend could have no motive of intereft, or paffion, to aggravate a friend's faults, till they were directed against himself; and that was the point he was

Caf. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Caf. A friendly eye could never fee fuch faults. Bru. A flatt'rer's would not, tho' they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come; Revenge yourselves alone on Cafus,

For Caffius is a weary of the world;

Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd like a bondman; and all his faults observ'd;
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my teeth. O I could weep,

My fpirit 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 beeft a Roman, take it forth.
I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart;
Strike, as thou didst at Cæfar; for I know,

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger;

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Caffius, you are yoaked with a Lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who much enforced, fhews a hafty fpark,
And ftraight is cold again.

Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him?
Bru. When I fpoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Caf. Do you confess so much? give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
[Embracing.

Caf. O Brutus!

to juftify himself upon, why he aggravated fuch faults; which, furely, is an unjust practice. I read therefore;

Bru. I do not: ftill you practise them on me. i. e. "I deny the "charge; and must tell you further, that this charge is an addition "to your faults." This, if I miftake not, gives fenfe and propriety.

Mr. Warburton.

Bru.