Octavius, I have seen more days than you. And though we lay these honors on this man To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, To groan and sweat under the business, Either led or driven, as we point the way. And having brought our treasure where we will, Then take we down his load and turn him off, Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears And graze in commons. (4.1.19-28)
Thou hast described A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucillius, When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforcèd ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith. But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle. But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests and, like deceitful jades. Sink in the trial. (4.2.19-28)
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. . . . I “an itching palm”! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. (4.3.9-14)
What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What, shall one of us That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be graspèd thus? I had rather be a dog and bay the moon Than such a Roman. (4.3.20-28)
How ill this taper burns!—Ha, who comes here? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me.—Art thou any thing? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare? Speak to me what thou art. . . . Thy evil spirit, Brutus. (4.3.281-288)
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