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, Cas. Away, away, be gone. Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. [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. If Bru. [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. Lucius, a bowl of wine. 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, you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears sorrow better: Cas. Ha! Portia ? Bru. She is dead. Portia is dead. Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so? What should the wars do with these jigging fools?] i. e. with these silly poets. A jig signified, in our author's time, a metrical composition, as well as a dance. 2 Companion,] Companion is used as a term of reproach in many of the old plays; as we at present say-fellow. O insupportable and touching loss !- Bru. 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. Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge: Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. [Drinks. Bru. Come in, Titinius: - Welcome, good Mes Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. Bru. Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Cas. Cicero one? Mes. 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? 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, 3 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. Bru. Cas. 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. The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, Do stand but in a forc'd affection; For they have grudg'd us contribution : Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encourag'd; From which advantage shall we cut him off, These people at our back. That we have try'd the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: We, at the height, are ready to decline. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. And we must take the current when it serves, Cas. Then, with your will, go on ; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say? Cas. No more. Good night. Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Luctus.] Farewell, good Messala ; Good night, Titinius:-Noble, noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose. Cas. O my dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night : Never come such division 'tween our souls! Re-enter LUCIUS, with the Gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Bru. 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. Enter 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. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your pleasure. 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. And touch thy instrument a strain or two? Bru. 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! |