Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? Cas. Brutus, bay not me,- Bru. Cas. I am. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Bru. I say you are not. Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? Cas. O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, Cas. Is it come to this? Bru. You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say better? Cas. When Cæsar liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd me. Bru Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. Cas. I durst not! Bru. No. Cas. What, durst not tempt hin! Bru. For your life you durst not. Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I 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, For certain sums of gold, which you 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, Cas. Bru. You did. I denied you not. Cas. I did not: he was but a fool that brought 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; Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better Bru. Cas. Cas. Bru. O Brutus, What's the matter? Bru. [Noise within. Poet. [within.] Let me go in to see the generals; l'here is some grudge between 'em; 'tis not meet They be alone. Lucil. [within.] You shall not come to them. Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. Poet. For shame, you generals! what do you mean? Cas. Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! Cas. Away, away, be gone! [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt LUCIL. and TIT. Lucius, a bowl of wine! Bru. 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?O insupportable and touching loss !— Upon what sickness? Bru. Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. Cas. And died so? Bru. Even so. 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. [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. Bru. Come in, Titinius! Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. Welcome, good Messala!-- No more, I pray you. Now sit we close about this taper here, Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor. 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; Mes. Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? 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. 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. Of marching to Philippi presently! Bru. Cas. What do you think 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 reasons must, of force, give place to better. For they have grudg'd us contribution: By them shall make a fuller number up, 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, |