moved me. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. I durst not! No. What, durst not tempt him! For your life you durst not! Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd 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 answer'd 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! I denied you not. You did. 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. I do not, till you practise them on me. You love me not. I do not like your faults. A friendly eye could never see such faults. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world; Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; Cheque'd like a bondman; all his faults observed, 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. 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