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Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cus. You love me not.

I do not like your faults. Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do ap

pear As huge as high Olympus.

Cus. Come, Autony, 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; Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, Set in a note-book, learn'd, and coun'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from minc eyes !—There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' iniue, richer than gold: If that thou be'st 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. 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 fint bears fire;
Who, inuch euforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

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 consess so much? Give me your

hand. Bru. And my heart too. 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?

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.

than ye.

Enter Poet. cas. IIow 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,

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

What should the wars do witli the jigging fools ?
Companion*, hence.

Away, away; begone.

(Exit Poet.

Enter Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru. Lucinius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their compavies to night.

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala

with you,

Immediately to us.

(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, wlien I cross'd you

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O insupportable and touching loss ! -
Upon what sickness?

Impatient of my absence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong; - for with her

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 inmortal gods !

Enter Lucius, uith 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 Mes.

Now sit we close about this taper here,
And call in question our necessities.

Cas. Portia, art thou gone?

No more, I pray you,

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

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

Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,
Have put to death ap 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?

Ay, Cicero is dead,
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.

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, Mes

sala: With meditating that she must die oncet, I have the patience to endure it now. Mes. Even so great men great losses should en

dure. 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.


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, 1 Do stand but in a forc'd affection; For they have grudg'd us coutribution: The enemy, marchiug 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 brotber. Bru. Under your pardon.--You must note be

That we have try'd the utmost of our friends,
Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe:
The enemy increaseth every day,
We, at the height, are ready to decline,
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the food, 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.

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.

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