Imatges de pàgina
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And not for Juftice? What, fhall one of Us,
That ftruck the foremost Man of all this World,
But for fupporting Robbers, fhall we now
Contaminate our Fingers with base Bribes?
And fell the mighty space of our large Honours
For fo much trafh, as may be grafped thus?
I had rather be a Dog, and bait the Moon,
Than fuch a Roman.

Caf. Brutus, bait not me,

I'll not endure it; you forget your self,
To hedge me in, I am a Soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than your self
To make Conditions.

Bru. Go to; you are not Caffius.
Caf. I am.

Bru. I fay, you are not.

Caf. Urge me no more, I fhall forget my felf Have mind upon your Health---Tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, flight Man.

Caf. Is't poffible?.

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.

Muft I give way, and room to your rafh Choler?
Shall I be frighted, when a mad Man ftares ?

Caf. O ye Gods! ye Gods! muft I endure all this?
Bru. Allthis! Ay more. Fret 'till your proud Heart break,

Go fhew your Slaves how Cholerick you are,

And make your Bondmen tremble. Muft I budge?
Muft I obferve you? Muft I ftand and crouch
Under your tefty Humour? By the Gods
You fhall digeft the venom of your Spleen,
Tho' it do fplit you. For from this Day forth,
I'll use you for my Mirth, yea for my Laughter,
When you are wafpifh.

Caf. Is it come to this?

Bru. You fay, you are a better Soldier ;

Let it appear fo; make your vaunting true,

And it fhall please me well. For mine own part,

I fhall be glad to learn of Noblemen.

Caf. You wrong me every way---You wrong me, Brutus

I faid, an Elder Soldier, not a Better.

Did

Did I fay better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Caf. When Cafar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not fo have tempted him. Caf. I durft not!

Bru. No.

Caf. What? durft not tempt him!

Bru. For

your Life you

durft not.

Caf. Do not presume too much upon my Love,
I may do that I fhall be forry for.

Bru. You have done that you should be forry for.
There is no terror, Caffius, in your Threats.
For I am arm'd fo ftrong in Honefty,

That they pafs by me, as the idle Wind,
Which I respect not. I did fend to you

For certain Sums of Gold, which you deny'd me;
For I can raise no Mony by vile means,

By Heaven, I had rather coin my Heart,

And drop my Blood for Drachma's, than to wring
From the hard Hands of Peafants, their vile trash
By any Indirection. I did fend

To you for Gold to pay my Legions,

Which you deny'd me; was that done like Caffius ?
Should I have anfwer'd Caius Caffius fo?

When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous,

To lock fuch Rafcal Counters from his Friends,
Be ready Gods with all your Thunder-bolts,

Dash him to pieces.

Caf. I deny'd you not.

Bru. You did.

Caf. I did not

He was but a Fool

That brought my anfwer back-Brutus hath riv'd my Heart,

A Friend fhould bear his Friend's Infirmities,

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

Bru. I do not like your Faults.

Caf. A friendly Eye could never fee fuch Faults. Br. A Flatterer's would not, tho' they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Caf.

Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius come,
Revenge your felves alone on Caffius,
For Caffius is a weary of the World;

Hated by one he loves, brav'd by his Brother,
Check'd like a Bondman, all his Faults obfervd,
Set in a Note-Book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my Teeth. OI could weep
My Spirit from mine Eyes! There is my Dagger,
And here my naked Breaft. Within, a Heart
Dearer than Pluto's Mine, richer than Gold;
If that thou beeft a Roman, take it forth.
I that deny'd thee Gold, will give my Heart;
Strike as thou didft at Cafar, for I know,

When thou didst hate him worft, thou lov'dft him better
Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

Bru. Sheath your Dagger;

Be angry when you will, it fhall have scope,
Do what you will, Dishonour fhall be Humour.
O, Caffins, you are yoaked with a Lamb,
That carries Anger as the Flint bears Fire,
Who much inforced, fhews a hafty spark,
And ftraight is cold again.

Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd

To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus,
When Grief and Blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?
Bru. When I fpoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.'
Caf. Do you confefs fo much? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my Heart too.
[Embracing

Caf. O Brutus !

Bru. What's the matter?

Caf. Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rafh Humour which my Mother gave me Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Caffius, and from henceforth

When you are over-earneft with your Brutus,
He'll think your Mother chides, and leave you fo
Enter Lucilius and Titinius, and a Poet.

Poet. Let me go in to fee the Generals,

There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet

They be alone.

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Luci

Luc. You fhall not come to them.
Poet. Nothing but Death shall stay me.
Caf. How now? What's the matter?

Poet. For fhame you Generals? what do you mean?
Love, and be Friends, as two fuch Men should be,
For I have seen more Years I'm fure than ye.
Caf. Ha, ha---how vilely doth this Cynick rhime!
Bru. Get you hence, Sirrah; fawcy Fellow, hence.
Caf. 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.

Caf. Away, away, be gone.

[Exit Poet

Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the Commanders Prepare to lodge their Companies to Night.

Caf. And come your felves, and bring Meffala with you
Immediately to us.
Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru. Lucius, a Bowl of Wine:
Caf. I did not think you could have been fo
Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many Griefs.
Caf. Of your Philofophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental Evils.

angry.

Bru. No Man bears Sorrow better---Portia is dead.
Caf. Ha! Portia !

Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How fcap'd I killing, when I croft you fo?
O infupportable and touching Lofs!
Upon what Sickness ?

Bru. Impatient of my abfence;

And Grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony,
Have made themselves fo ftrong: For with her Death
That tydings came. With this fhe fell diftract,
And (her Attendants abfent) fwallow'd Fire.

Caf. And dy'd fo?

Bru. Even fo..

Caf. O ye immortal Gods!

Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: Give me a Bowl of Wine.

In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius.

[Drinks

Caf.

Caf. My Heart is thirsty for that noble Pledge,
Fill, Lucius, 'till the Wine o'er-fwell the Cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus's Love.

Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

Bru. Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Meffala:
Now fit we close about this Taper here,
And call in queftion our Neceffities.
Caf. Portia! art thou gone?

Bru. No more, I pray you.
Meffala, I have here received Letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty Power,
Bending their Expedition toward Philippi.
Mef. My felf have Letters of the self-fame tenure.
Bru. With what Addition?

Mef. That by Profcription, 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 dy'd
By their Profcriptions, Cicero being one.

Caf. Cicero one?

Mef. Cicero is dead; and by that Order of Profcription. Had you your Letters from your Wife, my Lord?

Bru. No, Meffala.

Mef. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Meffala.

Mef. That, methinks, is strange.

Bru.Why ask you? hear you ought of her, in yours?
Mef. No, my Lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
Mef. Then like a Roman, bear the Truth I tell,
For certain the is dead, and by strange manner.
Bru. Why, farewel, Portia-we muft die, Messala,
With meditating that she must die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Even fo great Men, great Loffes should endure. Caf. I have as much of this in Art as you,

But yet my Nature could not bear it fo.

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