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Sir C. All conceit, my dear! I was perfectly right. Lady R. No such thing, Sir Charles; the diamond was the play.
Sir C. Po! Po! Ridiculous! The club was the card, against the world.
Lady R. Oh! no, no, no-I say it was the diamond. Sir C. Madam, 1 say it was the club.
Lady R. What do you fly into such a passion for ? Sir G. Death and fury! Do you think I don't know what I'm about? I tell you once more, the club was the judgment of it.
Lady R. May be so-have it your own way.
Sir C. Vexation! You're the strangest woman that ever lived; there's no conversing with you.--Look 'e here, my Lady Racket-'tis the clearest case in the world I'll make it plain in a moment.
Lady R. Well, Sir; ha, ha, ha!
Sir C. I had four cards left-a trump had led-they were six-no, no, no-they were seven, and we nine then, you know-the beauty of the play was to
Lady R. Well, nw, 'tis amazing to me, that you can't see it. Give me leave, Sir Charles-your left hand adversary had led his last trump-and he had before finessed the club, and roughed the diamond-now if you had put on your diamond
Sir C. But, Madam, we play'd for the odd trick.
Sir C. Hear me, I say. Will you hear me?
Sir C. Why then you are enough to provoke the patience of a Stoic. Very well, madam! You know no more of the game than your father's leaden Hercules on the top of the house. You know no more of whist than he does of gardening.
Lady R. Ha, ha, ha!
Sir C. You're a vile woman, and I'll not sleep another night under one roof with you.
Lady R. As you please, Sir.
Sir C. Madam, it shall be as I please-I'll order my
chariot this moment. [Going.] I know how the cards should be played as well as any man in England, that let me tell you-[Going.] And when your family were standing behind counters, measuring out tape, and bartering for Whitechapel needles, my ancestors, my ancestors, Madam, were squandering away whole estates at cards; whole estates, my lady Racket-[She hums a tune] Why, then, by all that's dear to me, I'll never exchange another word with you, good, bad, or indifferent. Look ye, my lady Racket-thus it stood- -the trump being led it was then my business
Lady R. To play the diamond, to be sure.
Sir C. I have done with you forever; and so you may tell your father.
Lady R. What a passion the gentleman is in! Ha! -ha! I'll promise him I'll not give up my judgment.
Re-enter Sir Charles.
Sir C. My lady Racket-look 'ye. Ma'am, once more, out of pure good nature
Lady R. Sir, I am convinced of your good nature. Sir C. That and that only, prevails with me to tell you the club was the play.
Lady R. Well, be it so-I have no objection. Sir C. 'Tis the clearest point in the worldnine, and
Lady R. And for that very reason, you know the club was the best in the house.
Sir C. There's no such thing as talking to you. You're a base woman-I'll part with you forever, you may live here with your father, and admire his fantastical evergreens, till you grow as fantastical yourself—I'll set out for London this instant-Stops at the door] The club was not the best in the house.
Lady R. How calm you are! Well, I'll go to bed. Will you come? You had better-Poor Sir Charles. [Looks and laughs, then exit.} Sir C. That case is provoking-[Crosses the opposite door where she went out.] I tell you the diamond was not the play; and here I take my final leave of you[Walks back as fast as he can] I am resolved upon it and I know the club was not the best in the house.
VIII. Brutus and Cassius.-SHAKESPEARE.
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.
Cas. I an itching palm?
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
Cas. Ghastisement !
Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember.
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
Cas. Brutus, bay not me :
I'll not endure it. You forget yourself
Older in practice, abler than yourself
Bru. Go to! You are not, Cassius.
Bru. I say you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health: tempt me no farther
Bru. Away, slight man!
Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Bru. All this? Ay more.
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Cas. Is it come to this?
Fret till your proud heart
Bru. You say you are a better soldier;
Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Bru
I said an elder soldier, not a better.
Did I say better?
Bru. If you did I care not.
Cas. When Cæsar liv'd he durst not thus have mov'd
may do that I shall be sorry for.
Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for.
Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him.
Cas. I durst not!
Cas. What! durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durst not.
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love.
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
Cas. I denied you not.
Bru. You did.
Cas. I did not; he was but a fool
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv'd my heart.
A friend should bear a friend's infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bra. I do not like your
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they did appear As huge as high Olympus.
Cas. Come, Anthony! And young Octavius, come! Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius: For Cassius is a weary of the worldHated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ❜d, Set in a note book, learn'd and conn'd by rote— To cast into my teeth. There is my dagger, And here my naked breast-within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold; If that thou need'st a Roman's, 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'st him better Than ever thou lov'st Cassius.
Bru. Sheath your dagger,
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope,