Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Caffius,

For Caffius is a-weary of the world;

Hated by one he loves, brav'd by his brother,
Check'd like a bondman, all his faults obsery'd,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my teeth. Of could weep

My fpirit from mine eyes. There is my dagger,
And here my naked breaft; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou beeft a Roman, take it forth;
I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike as thou didst at Cafar; for I know,

When thou didft hate him worft, thou lov'dft him better
Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger:

Be angry when you will, it fhall have scope;
Do what you will, difhonour fhall be humour.
O Caffius, you are yoked with a & lamb,
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire,
Who, much enforced, fhews a hafty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Gaf. 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 spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Caf. Do you confefs fo much? Give me your hand.

{h Embracing.

Bru. And my heart too.

Caf. O Brutus- ..

Bru. What's the matter?

i

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

Bru. Yes, Caffius; and from henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you fo.

[A noife within.. m Poet. [ within] Let me go in, to fee the generals; There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet They be alone.

Luc. [ at the door] You fhall not come to them.
Poet. [ within] Nothing but death shall stay me.
Enter: Poet.

Caf. How now? What's the matter?

Poet. For fhame, you generals; what do you mean ?
Love, and be friends, as two fuch men fhould be:
For I have feen more years, I'm fure, than ye..

Caf. Ha, ha! How vilely doth this cynick rhime!

C.

This direction not in the fo's or Lucilius and Titinius; but preserve it is the margin.

i P.'s duodecimo, T. W. J. and C,

you not for not you.

C. omits from.

This direction first put in by T.The fo's make the poet to enter here; fo does R. who adds Lucius and Titimius.

m P. and H. in their text omit all from this place to the entrance of

n T. first puts [within.]

• [at the door] put by C.-T. W. and 7. [within.] The other editions have no direction.

P [within] first put in by T.

9 The ift and ad f, wildely; 3d, vildly.

C. does for deth.

Bru. Get you hence, firrah; faucy 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 these jingling fools?---Companion, hence.

Caf. Away, away, be gone.

Enter Lucilius, and Titinius.

Bru, Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders

Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

[Exit Poet.

Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you

Immediately to us.

[Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

[* Exit Lucius,

Caf. I did not think you could have been fo angry,
Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs.

Gaf. Of your philosophy you make no use,

If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears forrow better-x Portia is dead.
Caf. Ha! Portia?

Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How 'cap'd I killing, when I croft you fo?O infupportable and touching lofs!

Upon what fickness ?

Bru. Impatient of my absence;

And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves fo ftrong: For with her death

That tidings came; with this fhe fell diftract,

And, her attendants abfent, swallow'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 unkindness, 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.

Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

[drinks.

[2 drinks.

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

Now fit we close about this taper here,

And call in question our neceffities.

b

Caf. Portia! art thou gone?

Bru. No more, I pray you.

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

Mef. Myfelf have letters of the self-fame * tenour.
Bru. With what addition?

Mef. That, by profcription, and bills of outlawry,

Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,

Have put to death an hundred fenators,

Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree;
Mine speak of seventy fenators, that dy'd

By their profcriptions, Cicero being one,
Caf. Cicero one?

h

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 afk 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 ftrange 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. Even 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 presently?

Caf. I do not think it good.
Bru. Your reason?

f The Ift f. outlarie; the 2d and 3d,

utlary for outlawry,

& Ç, a fer an.

h C. inferts Ay before Cicero,
i C. that by for by that.

H 4

Caf