More likely they thought it such a one-millionth part of a
trifle that they never dreamed of thinking of mentioning it.
(Noise within.)
Poet (within): Let me go in to see the generals; There is some
grudge between 'em--'tis not meet
They be alone.
Lucilius (within): You shall not come to them.
Poet (within): Nothing but death shall stay me.
("Within" in this case is, of course, without--outside the tent
where Lucilius and Titinius are on guard.)
Enter POET.
Cassius: How now! What's the matter?
Poet: For shame, you generals! What do you mean?
Love, and be friends, as two such men should be:
For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye.
Cassius: Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme!
Brutus: Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!
Cassius: Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion.
Brutus: I'll know his humour when he knows his time:
What should the wars do with these jingling fools?
Companion, hence!
Cassius: Away, away, be gone!
(Exit POET.)
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall inherit a black eye
(_Lawson_). Shakespeare was ever rough on poets--but stay!
Consider that this great world of Rome and all the men and women in it
were created by a "jingling fool" and a master of bad--not to say
execrable--rhymes, and his name was William Shakespeare.
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