Imatges de pÓgina

Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces;

Cas. I denied you not.

Bru. You did.

Cas. I did not :-He was but a fool

That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath rived my heart:

A friend should bear his friend's, infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me.
Cas. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. (R. c.)- Å flatterer's would not, though they do ap


As huge as high Olympus.

Cus. (L. c.) Come, Antony, and, young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius;

For Cassius is aweary of the world:

Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
heck'd like a bondman: all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes!-There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
I, that denied the gold, will give my heart :
Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar: for, I know,

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger:

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas. Hath Cassius lived

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

Biu. When I spoke that,

was ill-temper'd too.

Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

Bru. Both Embrace c.] And my heart too.
Cus. O, Brutus !-

Bru, What's the matter?

Cas. Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Cassius; and henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,

He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.—
Metellus and Titinius!


Bid the commanders

Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Trebonius with you

Immediately to us.

Bru. Lucius !

A bowl of wine.

[Exeunt Titinius and Metellus.

Enter LUCIUS, R. U. E.

[Exit Lucius, R. U. E

Cas. I did not think you could have been so an ry.
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. (c.) No man bears sorrow better:-Portia is dead. Cas. Ha! Portia ?

Bru. She is dead.

Cas. How 'scaped I killing, when I cross'd you so ? O, insupportable and touching loss !—

Upon what sickness?

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 a Taper-and VARRO, with a Jar of Wine, and a Goblet.-Lucius places the Taper on the Table, and takes the Jar from VARRO. Bru. Speak no more of her-Give me a howl of wine :[Takes the Goblet.

In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.


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's love.



[Exeunt Varro and Lucius.

Enter TITINIUS, TREBONIUS, and METELLUS, R. Bru. Come in, Titinius ;-Welcome, good Trebonius. Now sit we close about this taper here,

And call in question our necessities.

[Trebonius, Titinius, and Metellus sit.

Cas. [R. c. Aside.] Portia, art thou gone?

Bru. No more, I pray you.

[Brutus and Cassius retire to the Table and sit.

Trebonius, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with mighty power,
Bending their expedition towards Philippi.

Tre. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour.
Bru. With what addition?

Tre. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,

Have put to death a 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?

Tre. Ay, Cicero is dead,

And by that order of proscription.

Brutus, had you your letters from your wife?

Bru. No, Trebonius.

Tre. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

Bru. Nothing, Trebonius.

Tre. That, methinks, is strange.

Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours? Tre. No, Brutus.

Bru. [Rises.] Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Tre. [Rises.] 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, Trebonius :

[They all rise, and advance.

With meditating that she must die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Cas. (R. C.) Even so great men great losses should en.


I have as much of this in art as you ;

But yet nature could not bear it so.

Bru. (c.) Well, to our work alive.-What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?

Cas. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reason?

Cas. 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 better. The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground,

Do stand but in a forced affection;

For they have grudged us contribution :
The enemy, marching along by them,

By them shall make a fuller number up,

Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged :
From which advantage shall we cut him off,

If at Philippi we do face him there,

These people at our back.

Cas. Here me, good brother

Bru. Under your pardon :--You must note beside,

That we have tried 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.

Cas. Then, with your will, go on;

We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.
Bru. The deep night is crept upon our talk,

And nature must obey necessity.—

There is no more to say?

-Good nigh:

Cas. [R. going L.] No more.

Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

Bru. [L. going R.] Lucius, my gown.-Farewell good


Good night, Titinius :-Noble, noble Cassius,

Good night, and good repose.

Cas. [Meet at c. O, my dear brother;

This was an ill beginning of the night:

Never come such division 'tween our souls!

Let it not, Brutus.

Bru. Every thing is well.—

Good night, good brother :-Farewell, every one.—

[Exeunt Cassius, Titinius, Trebonius, and Metellus, R.

Enter LUCIUS with a Gown and Book.

Give me my book

Where is thy instrument?

Luc. Here in the tent.

[Lucius gives the Book.

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily?

[Goes for his Lute,

Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'd.
Call Varro, and some other of my friends;

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

Enter METELLUS and VARRO, L. V. E,

Bru. (R.) 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.

Met. 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.

[Metellus and Varro retire, and lie down, L. v. E.

Can'st thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.
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.

If I do live I will be good to thee.

[Lucius begins to play, but soon falls asleep. This is a mournful tune. O murd'rous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,

That plays the music ?-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: [Takes away the Instrument and lays
it on the Table.] So-good boy, good night!—
Let me see, let me see :-Is not the leaf turn'd down,
Where I left reading? [Sits c.] Here it is, I think.

Enter the Ghost of CESAR,,L.

How ill this taper burns!-Ha! who comes here?

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