Did I fay better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Caf. When Cæfar liv'd he durft not thus have mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted him. Caf. I durft not!

Bru, No.

Caf. What? durft not tempt him!

Bru. For

life
your you durft not.

Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my love,
I may do that I fhall be forry for.

Bru. You have done that you fhould be forry for.
There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats;
For I am arm'd fo ftrong in honefty,

That they pafs by me, as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did fend to you
For certain fums of gold, which you deny'd me;
For I can raise no mony by vile means.

By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachma's, than, to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did fend

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me; was that done like Caffius?
Should I have anfwer'd Caius Caffius fo?

When Marcus Bratus grows fo covetous,

To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends,
Be ready, Gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dafh him to pieces!

Caf. I deny'd you not.

Bru. You did.

Caf. I did not- he was but a fool

That brought my answer back-Brutus hath riv'd my heart. A friend fhould bear a friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not will you practise that on me?

Caf. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults,

Caf. A friendly eye could never fee fuch faults. Bru. A flatt'rer's would not, tho' they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Caf.

Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge your felves 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 obferv'd,
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my teeth. OI 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 Cæfar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dft him better
Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger;

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour fhall be humour.
O Caffius, you are yoaked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Which much enforced, fhews a hafty spark,
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 confess so much? give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
[Embracing.

Caf. O Brutus!

Bru. What's the marter?

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. *

and leave you fo.

Enter Lucius and Titinius, and a Poet.

Poet. Let me go in to fee the Generals,

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

They be alone.

Lue.

SCENE IV.

Enter Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

Caf. And come your felves, and bring Messala with you
Immediately to us.
[Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.
Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

Caf. I did not think you could have been so 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 so ?
O infupportable and touching lofs !
Upon what fickness?

Bru. Impatient of my abfence,

And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves fo ftrong; (for with her death
That tidings came) with this the 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 thirfty for that noble pledge.

Luc. You fhall not come to them.
Poet. Nothing but death fhal! stay me.
Caf. How now? what's the matter?

Poet. For fhame, you Genera's; 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!
Bru. Get you hence, firrah; fawcy fellow, hence.
Caf. Bear with him, Brutus, 'tis his fafhion.

Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time;
What fhould the wars do with thefe jingling fools?
Companion hence.

Caj. Away, away, be gone.

Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, &c.

[Drinks.

(Exit Pu

Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-fwell the cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

SCENE V.

Enter Titinius and Meffala.

Bru. Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Meffala!
Now fit we clofe about this taper here,
And call in question our neceffities.
Caf. Oh 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 tow'rd Philippi.

Mef. My felf have letters of the self-same 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 fpeak 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 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, Mejala.
With meditating that she must 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

Of marching to Philippi presently?

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

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 still,
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 shall 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 serves,
Or lofe our ventures.

Caf. Then with your will, go on: we will along
Qur feives, 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 rest.

There is no more to fay.

Caf. No more; good night;

Early to-morrow we will rife, and hence.

Enter