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Which much enforc'd, fhews a hafty fpark,
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. 2

S C E N E

Enter Lucilius and Titinius.

IV.

Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders

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and leave you fo.

Enter Lucius and Titinius, and a Poet.

Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals.

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

They be alone.

Luc. You fhall not come to them.

Poet. Nothing but death fhall ftay 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 feen more years I'm fure than ye.

-

Caf. Ha, ha how vilely doth this Cynick rhime!
Bru. Get you hence, firrah; 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 thefe jingling fools?
Companion, hence.

Caf Away, away, be gone.
Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, &c.

Who

Prepare

[Exit Pott.

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 angry.
Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs.

Caf. Of your philofophy you make no ufe,
If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears forrow better- Portia's 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 themfelves fo ftrong; (for with her death

That tidings 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 Lucius with Wine and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: give me a bowl of wine.

In this I bury all unkindnefs, Caffius.

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 love.

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[Drinks

Bru. Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Meffala!

Now fit we close about this taper here,

And call in queftion our neceffities.

Caf. Oh Portia! art thou gone?
Bru. No more, I pray you.

R 2

Meffala,

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Meffala, I have here received letters,

That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,

Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition tow'rd Philippi.

Mef. My felf have letters of the felf-fame tenour.
Bru. With what addition?

Mef. That by profcriptions, 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 fev'nty 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 ftrange.

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 fhe is dead, and by strange manner.
Bru. Why, farewel Portia-we muft die, Meffala.
With meditating that fhe muft die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes fhould endure.
Caf. I have as much of this in art as you,

But yet my nature could not bear it fo.

Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi prefently?

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru, Your reafon?

Caf. This it is:

'Tis better that the enemy feek us,

So fhall he wafte his means, weary his foldiers,

Doing himself offence; whilft we lying ftill,

Are

Are full of reft, defence and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reafons muft of force give place to better. The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground, Do ftand but in a forc'd affection; For they have grudg'd us contribution. The enemy, marching along by them, By them fhall make a fuller number up, Come on refresh'd, new added, and encourag'd; From which advantage fhall we cut him off, If at Philippi we do face him there,

These people at our back.

Caf. Hear me, good brother

Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note befide,

That we have try'd the utmost of our friends,

Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe;

The enemy encreaseth 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 fhallows, and in miferies.
On fuch a full fea are we now a-float,

And we must take the current when it ferves,

Or lose our ventures.

Caf. Then with your will, go on; we will along Our felves, and meet them at Philippi.

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature muft obey neceffity,

Which we will niggard with a little reft.

There is no more to fay.

Caf. No more; good-night;

Early to-morrow we will rife, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius, my gown; 'now farewel, good Mejala,

Good-night, Titinius: noble, noble Caffius,
R 3

[Exit Lucius.

Good

2 farewel,

Good-night, and good repofe.

Caf. O my dear brother!

This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come fuch divifion 'tween our fouls!
Let it not, Brutus.

Re-enter Lucius with the Gown.

Bru. Ev'ry thing is well.

Tit. Mef. Good-night, Lord Brutus.

Bru. Farewel, every one.

Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

Luc. Here in the tent.

Bru. What, thou fpeak'ft drowsily?

[Exeunt.

Poor knave, blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. Call Claudius, and fome other of my men;

I'll have them fleep on cufhions in my tent.

Luc. Varro and Claudius.

SCENE VI.

Enter Varro and Claudius.

Var. Calls my Lord?

Bru. I pray you, Sirs, lye in my tent and fleep;

It may be, I fhall raise you by and by,

On bufinefs to my brother Caffius.

[.pleasure.

Var. So please you, we will ftand, and watch your Bru. I will not have it fo; lye down, good Sirs:

It may be I fhall otherwife bethink me.

Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for fo;

I put it in the pocket of my gown.

Luc. I was fure your Lordship did not give it me.

Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Can't thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,

And touch thy inftrument, a ftrain or two?
Luc. Ay, my Lord, an't pleafe you.
Bru. It does, my boy;

I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Luc. It is my duty, Sir.

Bru.

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