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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.
Enter Poet.

Cas. How 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, than

ye. Cas. Ha, ha; how vilely doth this cynick 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 time:

What should the wars do with these jigging fools?' Companion, hence


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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 Immediately to us.


Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. [Exit LUCIUS.
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, when I cross'd you so?

1i. e. silly poets.

• Fellow.

[J. Cæs. 62]

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 death
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 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 :-Welcome, good MesNow sit we close about this taper here,



pray you.

And call in question our necessities.
Cas. Portia, art thou gone?
No more,
Messala, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward 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 an 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?

Mes. [J. Cæs. 63]

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, MesWith 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. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?

Cas. I do not think it good.



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 The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, [better. Do stand but in a forc'd affection;

For they have grudg'd us contribution :

The enemy, marching 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.

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Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note beside, 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 flood, 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?


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.


0 my

dear brother!

This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such division 'tween our souls!

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Farewell, every one.

Tit. Mes. Good night, lord Brutus.


Give me


Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown.

the gown. Where is thy instrument? Luc. Here in the tent.

[J. CES. 65]


What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd.

Call Claudius, and some other of my men;

I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
Luc. 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.

[pleasure. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your 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. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetCanst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two? Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.



It does, my boy; I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. Luc. It is my duty, sir.

Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know, young bloods look for a time of rest. Luc. I have slept, my lord, already.

Bru. It is well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long: If I do live,

I will be good to thee.

[Musick, and a song. This is a sleepy tune :-O murd'rous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace' upon my boy,

That plays thee musick?-Gentle knave, good night;
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument;
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.

[J. CES. 66]

The ancient term for a sceptre.

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