Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, Bru. Sheath your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Cas. O Brutus ! Bru. 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, Luc. [within.] You shall not come to them. 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 cynick rhime! Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence. Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time: What should the wars do with these jigging fools ? Companion, hence ! Cas. Away, away, be gone. Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. [Exe. LUCILIUS and TITINIUS Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. 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 sorrows better:-Portia is dead. Cas. Ha! Portia ? Bru. She is dead. Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so ?— 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, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. 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. Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA. [Drinks 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, [8] That is, with these silly poets. A jig signified, in our author's time, a metrical composition as well as a dance. MALONE. That young Octavius, and Mark Antony, Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, 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 Bru. No, Messala. 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 once, 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. Bru. Your reason? Cas. This it is : 'Tis better, that the enemy seek us : So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, Do stand but in a forc'd affection; For they have grudg'd us contribution : The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back. Cas. Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon.-You most note beside, We, at the height, are ready to decline. Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. Cas. Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. 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. Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Luc.] [Messala ;Farewell, good Good night, Titinius :-Noble, noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose. Cas. O my dear brother! This was an ill-beginning of the night : Never come such division 'tween our souls! Let it not, Brutus. Bru. Every thing is well. Cas. Good night, my lord. Bru. Good night, good brother. Tit. Mcs. Good night, lord Brutus. Bru. Farewell, every one. [Exe. CAS. TIT. and MES. Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Luc. Here in the tent. Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch' Call Claudius, and some other of my men ; Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS. Var. Calls my lord? Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and sleep; It may be, I shall raise you by and by On business to my brother Cassius. [sure. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your pleaBru. I will not have it so lie down, good sirs; It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown. [Servants lie down, Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two? Bru. It does, my boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; Bru. It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again ; I will be good to thee. [Music, and a song This is a sleepy tune :-O murd'rous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music ?-Gentle knave, good night; If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument ; How ill this taper burns!-Ha! who comes here? That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me :-Art thou any thing? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. |