1The two men embrace here; a pause. They have practically to see their business through to the end, and there is still Antony to deal with.

2The boy Lucius has been just outside the tent off stage; Brutus calls to him.

A slight pause; the news is a staggerer to Cassius; he cannot realize it. The impending doom seems to soften his nature.

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd

too.

Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. (They both rise.)

Bru. Cas.1

Bru.

And my heart too.

O Brutus!

What's the matter?

Cas. Have not you love enough to bear with

me,

When that rash humour which my mother gave

me

Makes me forgetful?

Bru.

Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you

so.

Bru. (Sits R). Lucius, a bowl of wine!2

[Exit Lucius up L

Cas. (Sits L). 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.3

1He takes Brutus' hand. Once more we see what a much finer character is Portia than either of these two men.

2Cassius turns away, burying his face in his

hands.

They pledge each other. 4Brutus drinks.

Cas. Ha! Portia!

Bru. She is dead.

Cas. How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd

you so?

O insupportable and touching loss!1

Upon what sickness?

That tidings came; — with this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.

Re-enter Lucius, with wine and taper; he lights the big candle at back of table

Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl

of wine.

In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.3

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. (He drinks.)

Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;4

1There have been sounds outside of arms and the tramp of war. Titinius and Messala can sit if there are stools; if not they stand, Messala R of Brutus, Titinius above table C.

2The table gets covered with parchments, maps, etc. Be careful of the accents in this line; toward is one syllable. Phil-ip-pi.