A Field near Philippi, where CASSIUS and BRUTUS made the Rendezvous of their Armies.
Enter BRUTUS and Officers.
IS here that I and CASSIUS were to join :
What fay our fcouts? Is any army near?
The rifing duft discovers their approach;
And fome, impatient of fo flow a march,
Are just arriv'd before to meet their friends.
O, here's LUCILIUS, whom I fent to CASSIUS.
LUCILIUS.
CASSIUS, my lord, falutes the noble BRUTUS,
And haftens to embrace him.
CASSIUS is alter'd much, or ill ad vis'd;
Has, I am loth to fay it, done fome things
Which do not well become fo great a man.
But, fince he is fo near, I'll ftay my cenfure,
And wish to find my jealoufy miftaken.
But, good LUCILIUS, how did he receive you,
When you brought friendly notice I was near?
With forms, and compliments, and great respect,
Out-doing enemies in ceremony;
But no familiarity betwixt us;
None of that free and friendly conference
Which we have us'd of old: and when he nam❜d you, 'Twas always with fuch fet, affected praise,
As if the commendation had no meaning,
But to be told again.
Thou judgest but too right: nothing is nobler
Than friendship, till it once begins to fail;
But then afham'd, and confcious of defect,
It hides itself in compliment and care:
At the first fhock, off falls the frail disguise;
Falfhood is foolish, and betrays itself.
There is no art in plain and friendly truth,
Which like the fun fhines forth by its own light.
Violent minds fometimes make glorious fhew,
Like gilding fhine, equal to real gold,
But in the ufage, how much difference!
Hark! he's arriv'd; march gently on to meet him,
SCENE II.
Enter CASSIUS, &c.
Embracing thus is but a thing of form;
For 'tis not fit that both our armies here
Should once fufpect the least dispute between us.
The common cause indeed requires our care;
And all our difcontents fhould yield to that,
BRUTUS, let us retire into my tent,
Left here by chance some unbecoming word
Break out too loud.
Are we fo little masters of ourselves?
How can we then be fit to govern armies?
CASSIUS.
You think yourself above those common frailties.
BRUTUS.
The Stoicks are above unruly paffion.
But, fince you would retire, I am content
My foldiers may remove beyond those fields.
LUCILIUS, march a little off this ground:
Let your men do the like, under pretence
Of our conferring about great affairs;
Indeed our greatest; for a home dispute
Is of more confequence than foreign dangers.
CASSIUS.
TITINIUS, let my forces move away
To yonder plain, and leave us all alone;
'Tis neceffary we should be in private.
[Exeunt all, except BRUTUS and CASSIUS.
You ask'd me fifty talents for your legions,
And in a style as to your treasurer,
As if I fhould prefer yours to my own:
Am I to be impos'd on thus by you?
Sure, CASSIUS little knows the force of friendship; Writing fo freely, shew'd my trust and kindness. He that defires a favour from a friend,
Does him the greatest in defiring it.
Come, I must tell you, over-great applause
Lifts you too high. Should I, who kill'dev'n CAESAR,
Only for his excessive pow'r and pride,
Should I at last fubmit thus to another?
From a fuperior my stars defend me!
From a fuperior! you little know me:
I fcarce would be fuperior to my flaves,
Except in virtue; that is worthy pride.
CASSIUS.
Then think not, Sir, of being above me.
BRUTUS.
I wish I were not, by these weak fufpicions.
What! jealous of a friend? It moves my pity.
Scorn your rage, that moves it.
My pity is not, ought not, to be flighted:
'Tis like the kind compassion of a parent,
Full of concern, and free from all contempt,
Rather deferves your thanks than your reproach.
CASSIUS.
My thanks! for what? for domineering o'er me?
Yet reafon has some right to govern passion.
BRUTUS, you have an over-ruling way,
Which, under colour of a patient calmness,
Expects compliance with your gentle temper.
But I fee thro' it.
See! your paffion blinds you.
CASSIUS.
You have no paffion, yet provoke another's.
Is it provoking to inform a brother
of faults no other dares prefume to tell him,
And yet most neceffary he should know?
Your troops have done most dismal outrages;
Forc'd harmless wretches from their native homes,
Slighted the widows and the orphans tears,
Gather'd their last remains with greedy gripe;
That which poor fwains had labour'd for whole years,
Is in one moment plunderd by your foldiers.
This finks our caufe, which rofe at first fo glorious.
Shall we, who foar'd fo high in reputation,
And open'd ev'ry mouth in our just praises,
Now on a fudden fall to dire oppreffion?
Shall we at last pull down with our own hands
That lofty fabrick of well-founded honour ?
That ftands expos'd to ev'ry juft man's cenfure.
Go on no more; I will no longer bear it.
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