I Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. Cass. I durst not! Bru. No. Cass. What, durst not tempt him! Bru. For your life you durst not. Cass. Do not presume too much upon my love; may do that I shall be sorry for. Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind, denied me; - And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, Cass. Bru. You did. My answer back. I denied you not. he was but a fool that brought Bru. I do not like your faults. Cass. A friendly eye could never see such faults. As huge as high Olympus. Cass. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the world; Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; My spirit from mine eyes! · There is my dagger, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better Bru. Sheathe your dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Cass. Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. Cass. Bru. O Brutus, What's the matter? Cass. 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. Poet. [within] Let me go in to see the generals; There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet Lucil. [within] You shall not come to them. Poet. [within] Nothing but death shall stay me. Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. Cass. Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! Cass. Away, away, be gone! [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Cass. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine! Cass. I did not think you could have been so angry Cass. Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears sorrow better: · Portia is dead. Bru. She is dead. Cass. How scap'd I killing when I cross'd you so? O insupportable and touching loss! Upon what sickness? Bru. That tidings came; with this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. - Cass. And died so? Bru. Cass. Even so. O ye immortal gods! Enter LUCIUS, with wine and taper. Bru. Speak no more of her. - Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. Cass. 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. [Drinks. [Exit Lucius. Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA Now sit we close about this taper here, Cass. Portia, art thou gone? No more, I pray you. Bru. Mes. Myself have letters of the selfsame tenour. Mes. That by proscription and bills of outlawry, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Mine speak of seventy senators that died 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? 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. But yet my nature could not bear it so. Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? Cass. I do not think it good. Bru. Cass. 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 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: These people at our back. Cass. 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: We, at the height, are ready to decline. |