That brought my answer back.—Brutus hath riv'd my heart: But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not like your faults. Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, For Cassius is aweary of the world: Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; When thou didst hate him worst thou lov'dst him better Sheath your dagger; Bru. Cas. 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. [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. Cas. How now ? What's the matter ? Poet. For shame, you generals: what do you mean? 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. Cas. 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. 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 That tidings came :-With this she fell distract, 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. Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor. Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Have put to death an hundred senators, Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree 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. ` 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, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. Bru. Good reason must, of force, give place to better. For they have grudg'd us contribution: These people at our back. Cas. Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note beside, The enemy We, at the height, are ready to decline. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; And we must take the current when it serves, 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 : Cas. Good night, my lord. Good night, good brother. Tit., Mes. Good night, lord Brutus. 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? Bru. Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'd. 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. 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! That plays thee music?-Gentle knave, good night; [He sits down. |