Cassius-Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Brutus-Hear me for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Cassius-O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Cassius-Is it come to this? Brutus-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 noble men. Cassius-You wrong me every way; you wrong me, I said an elder soldier, not a better; Did I say "better"? Brutus-If y Brutus; Cassius-When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me. Brutus-Peace, peace! you durst not thus have tempted him Cassius-I durst not? Brutus-No. Cassius- What? Durst not tempt him? Brutus-For your life you durst not. Cassius-Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. Brutus--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; 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? 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! Cassius-I denied you not Brutus-You did. Cassius-I did not: he was but a fool That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Brutus-I do not like your faults. heart. Cassius-A friendly eye could never see such faults. Brutus-A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Cassius-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; When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Brutus-Sheathe your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire: Cassius-Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him? Brutus-When I spoke that I was ill-tempered, too. Cassius-Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. Brutus-And my heart, too. [Embracing.] Cassius-O Brutus! Brutus-What's the matter? Cassius-Have you not love enough to bear with me. When that rash humor which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful? Brutus-Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so "FATHER, TAKE MY HAND."-HENRY N. COBB. The way is dark, my Father! Cloud on cloud The day goes fast, my Father! and the night The way is long, my Father! and my soul Lead to heaven's gate The path is rough, my Father! Many a thorn The throng is great my Father! Many a doub And foes oppress me sore. I cannot stand The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne Lead to the crown Thy child! THE GRACIOUS ANSWER.-HENRY N. COBB. The way is dark, my child! but leads to light. The day goes fast, my child! But is the night The way is long, my child! But it shall be Lead to heaven's gate The path is rough, my child! But oh! how sweet Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet, When thou shalt reach the borders of that land To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand, And safe and blest With me shalt rest The throng is great, my child! But at thy side The cross is heavy, child! Yet there was One My well-beloved. For him bear thine; and stand Receive a crown, My child! HEPSY'S AMBITION.-ESTELLE THOMSON. Some folks thought Hepsy had talent. Perhaps she had. At all events she was tired of such a humdrum life as she led, and longed to be doing something in the world that people might be aware of the fact that she lived. And then she wanted money, too. To be sure, she might sew. But she disliked close confinement to a sewing-room. She might secure a situation as governess or housekeeper. But that was too commonplace. Hepsy was ambitious. Why not be an authoress? People did make a living in that way. Who knew but she might become a poetess of renown? The very idea caused her heart to beat with unaccustomed rapidity, as she thought of herself flattered and admired for the charms of her mind. Yes, she would immediately commence a poem which should be no merely commonplace affair of rhyme and jingle, but a beautiful drawing out and blending in harmony of all the finest thoughts and fancies of her brain. She would begin her task right away while the inspiration was upon her. So she wheeled up an easy chair before the writing-desk, drew forth pen and paper, ran her fingers several times frantically through her hair, after the manner of literary characters, and-tried to think. She did hope no one would intrude. She must of course put all the minor responsibilities of worldly life entirely out of her mind. Well, she would call her poem-let's see! what would she call it? How surprised her friends would be when they read it! Wouldn't it be delightful, though, to create such a sensation! Oh, but about the title! Well, as this was the first, she would-she would-oh, yes! she knew now. She would dedicate it to some unknown friend. Ah, but that was such a brilliant idea! How nicely it would look written! And she wrote it "To my unknown friend." Now how should she begin? How did other famous au thors usually begin? She really could not recall any fine poems just then. She took a volume of choice selections in poetry from the book-shelf, and ran her eye over the first |