1.

Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear it? But I don't care;
I'll go to mother's to-morrow; I will; and what's more I'll walk every step
of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don't call me a
foolish woman; 'tis you that's the foolish man. You know I can't wear
clogs; and, with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a cold: it always
does: but what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I may be laid up for
what you care, as I dare say I shall; and a pretty doctor's bill there'll
be. I hope there will. It will teach you to lend your umbrellas again. I
shouldn't wonder if I caught my death: yes, and that's what you lent the
umbrella for.

_Douglas Jerrold._

2.

CAS. Brutus, bay not me!
I'll not endure it. You forget yourself,
To hedge me in: I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

BRU. Go to! you are not, Cassius.

CAS. I am.

BRU. I say you are not!