Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. Bru. pear As huge as high Olympus. Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world: Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; better Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger, as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him? Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. What's the matter? Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour, which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful? Bru.. Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. [Noise within. Poet. [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals; There is some grudge between them, 'tis not meet They be alone. Luc. [Within] You shall not come to them. Poet. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me. Enter Poet. Cas. 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 am sure, than ye. Cas. Ha, ha; how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! What should the wars do witli the jigging fools? Cas. Away, away; begone. Enter Lucilius and Titinius. [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucinius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you, Immediately to us. Bru. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Lucius, a bowl of wine, * Fellow. Cas. I did not think, you could have been so angry. - Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears sorrow better:- Portia is dead. Cas. Ha! Portia? Bru. She is dead. Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you O insupportable and touching loss! Upon what sickness? Bru. Impatient of my absence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong;- for with her death That tidings came;-With this she fell distract, Cas. And died so? Bru. Even so. Cas. O ye immortal gods! Enter Lucius, with wine and tapers. Bru. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl of wine: In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. [Drinks. Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks. Re-enter Titinius, with Messala. Bru. Come in, Titinius:- Welcome, good Messala. Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. Cas. Portia, art thou gone? Bru. No more, I pray you. Messala, I have here received letters, That young Octavius, and Mark Antony, Mes. Myself have letters of the self same tenour. Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Mes. Ay, Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? Mes. That, methinks, is strange. Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours? Mes. No, my lord. Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell : For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. Bru. Why, farewell, Portia.-We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die oncet, I have the patience to endure it now. Mes. Even so great men great losses should endure. Cas. I have as much of this in art‡ as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so. Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? Cas. I do not think it good. • Force. † At some time. Theory. Bru. Cas. Your reason? This it is: 'Tis better, that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back. Cas. Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note be side, That we have try'd the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe : We, at the height, are ready to decline. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune Cus. Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity; Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say? Cas. No more. Good night; Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. |