McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader Part 35

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas. O ye G.o.ds! ye G.o.ds! 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 G.o.ds, 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.

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, I shall be glad to learn of n.o.ble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say "better"?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.

Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

Cas. I durst not?

Bru. No.

Cas. What! durst not tempt him?

Bru. For your life, you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for.

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

There is no terror, Ca.s.sius, in your threats; For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pa.s.s 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 Ca.s.sius?

Should I have answered Caius Ca.s.sius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, G.o.ds, with an your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces!

Cas. I denied you not.

Bru. You did.

Cas. I did not: he was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me.

Cas. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Ca.s.sius, For Ca.s.sius is aweary of the world; Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed, Set in a notebook, learned, and conned by rate, To cast into my teeth. Oh, 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 Ca.s.sius.

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

O Ca.s.sius, 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.

Cas. Hath Ca.s.sius 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.

238 ECLECTIC SERIES.

Bru. And my heart, too.

Cas. O Brutus!

Bru. What's the matter?

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humor which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Ca.s.sius; and, from henceforth, When you are over earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Shakespeare.--Julius Caesar, Act iv, Scene iii.

NOTES.--Ides (pro. idz) was a term used in the Roman calendar. It fell on the fifteenth day of March, May, July, and October, and on the thirteenth of other months. On the ides of March, 44 B. C., Julius Caesar was murdered by Brutus, Ca.s.sius, and other conspirators. The populace were aroused to indignation, and the conspirators were compelled to fly.

Indirection; i. e., dishonest means.

Antony and Octavius, who, with Lepidus, formed the triumvirate now governing Rome, were at this time marching against the forces of Brutus and Ca.s.sius.

Plutus, in ancient mythology, the G.o.d of wealth.

LXII. THE QUACK. (238)

John Tobin, 1770-1804, a solicitor, was born at Salisbury, England, and died on s.h.i.+pboard near Cork. He wrote several comedies, the most popular being "The Honeymoon," from which this extract is taken; it was published in 1805.

SCENE--The Inn. Enter HOSTESS followed by LAMPEDO, a Quack Doctor.

Host. Nay, nay; another fortnight.

Lamp. It can't be.

The man's as well as I am: have some mercy!

He hath been here almost three weeks already.

Host. Well, then, a week.

Lamp. We may detain him a week. (Enter BALTHAZAR, the patient, from behind, in his nightgown, with a drawn sword.) You talk now like a reasonable hostess, That sometimes has a reckoning with her conscience.

Host. He still believes he has an inward bruise.

Lamp. I would to heaven he had! or that he'd slipped His shoulder blade, or broke a leg or two, (Not that I bear his person any malice,) Or luxed an arm, or even sprained his ankle!

Host. Ay, broken anything except his neck.

Lamp. However, for a week I'll manage him, Though he had the const.i.tution of a horse-- A farrier should prescribe for him.

Balth. A farrier! (Aside. ) Lamp. To-morrow, we phlebotomize again; Next day, my new-invented patent draught; Then, I have some pills prepared; On Thursday, we throw in the bark; on Friday-- Balth. (Coming forward.) Well, sir, on Friday--what, on Friday? Come, Proceed.

Lamp. Discovered!

They (Host.,Lamp.) fall on their knees.

Host. Mercy, n.o.ble sir!

Lamp. We crave your mercy!

Balth. On your knees? 'tis well!

Pray! for your time is short.

Host. Nay, do not kill us.

Balth. You have been tried, condemned, and only wait For execution. Which shall I begin with?

Lamp. The lady, by all means, sir.

Balth. Come, prepare. (To the hostess.) Host. Have pity by the weakness of my s.e.x!

Balth. Tell me, thou quaking mountain of gross flesh, Tell me, and in a breath, how many poisons-- If you attempt it--(To LAMPEDO, who is making off) you have cooked up for me?

Host. None, as I hope for mercy!

Balth. Is not thy wine a poison?

Host. No indeed, sir; 'T is not, I own, of the first quality; But-- Balth. What?

Host. I always give short measure, sir, And ease my conscience that way.

Balth. Ease your conscience!

I'll ease your conscience for you.

Host. Mercy, sir!

Balth. Rise, if thou canst, and hear me.

Host. Your commands, sir?

Balth. If, in five minutes, all things are prepared For my departure, you may yet survive.

Host. It shall be done in less.

Balth. Away, thou lumpfish. (Exit hostess.) Lamp. So! now comes my turn! 't is all over with me!