That brought my answer back.—Brutus hath riv'd my heart:
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.

Bru.

I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
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;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd,
Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes!—There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou beest a Roman, take it forth;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar; for, I know,

When thou didst hate him worst thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Sheath your dagger;

Bru.
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.
Bru. And my heart too.

Cas.

Bru.

Oh, Brutus!

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, from 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!
Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!
Cas. Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion.
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.

Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

[Exit Poet.

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you, Immediately to us. [Exeunt 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 sorrow better:-Portia is dead.
Cas. Ha! Portia?

Bru. She is dead.

Cas. How 'scap'd I killing when I cross'd you so?— Oh 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.

LL

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.

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.

[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?

No more, I pray you.—

Bru.
Messala, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward Philippi.

Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor.
Bru. With what addition?

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
Mine speak of seventy senators that died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.
Cas. Cicero one?

And by that order of proscription.—

Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

Bru. No, Messala.

Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

Bru. Nothing, Messala.

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.

Cas.

Your reason?

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 reason 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,
Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encourag'd;
From which advantage shall we cut him off,
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 beside,
That we have tried the utmost of our friends,
Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe:
increaseth every day,

The

enemy

We, at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;

And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

Cas.

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.

Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit LUCIUS.] Farewell, good

Messala;

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!

Cas. Good night, my lord.
Bru.

Good night, good brother.

Tit., Mes. Good night, lord Brutus.
Bru.

Farewell, every one.

[Exeunt CAS., TIT., and MES.

Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown.

What, thou speak'st drowsily?

Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
Luc. Here in the tent.

Bru.

Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'd.
Call Claudius, and some other of my men:

I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

Luc. Varro, and Claudius!

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.

Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your pleasure. Bru. 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?
Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.

Bru.

It does, my boy:

I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Luc. It is my duty, sir.

Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might;
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.
Luc. I have slept, my lord, already.

Bru. It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again;
I will not hold thee long; if I do live,

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;
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument;
I'll take it from thee: and, good boy, good night.
Let me see, let me see :-Is not the leaf turn'd down
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

[He sits down.