Imatges de pÓgina

Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time;

What should the wars do with thefe jingling fools? Companion, hence,

Caf. Away, away, begone.


Enter Lucilius, and Titinius,

[Exit Poet.

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

Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Meffala with


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Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius, Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

Caf. I did not think, you could have been fo 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. Porcia's dead, Caf. Ha! Porcia!

Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How 'cap'd I killing, when I croft

O infupportable and touching lofs!

Upon what sickness ?

Bru. Impatient of my abfence;

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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, fwallow'd fire.
Caf. And dy'd fo?

Bru. Even fo.

Caf. O ye immortal Gods!


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

Bru. Come in, Titinius.Welcome, good Mef


Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

Now fit we close about this taper here,
And call in question our neceffities.
Caf. Oh Porcia! are 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. Myself have letters of the felf-fame tenour.
Bru. With what addition?

Mef. That by Profcription and bills of Outlawry,
Otavius, 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 aught 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 she is dead, and by strange manner. Bru. Why, farewel, Porcia. We must die, Meffala.

With meditating that she muft die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes should 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 prefently?

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reafon ?

Caf. This it is:

'Tis better, that the enemy feek us;

So fhall he waste his means, weary his foldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilft we, lying ftill,

Are full of reft, defence and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reafons muft of force give place to

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 fhall 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 ferves,
Or lofe our ventures.

Caf. Then with your will go on; we will along
Ourselves, 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 say.

Caf. No more. Good night.

Early to-morrow will we rife, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius, my gown. Farewel, good Meffala, Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Caffius, Good night, and good repofe.

Caf. O my dear brother!

This was an ill beginning of the night;
Never come fuch divifion 'tween our fouls,
Let it not, Brutus |

Enter Lucius with the Gown.

Bru. Ev'ry thing is well.

Tit. Mef. Good night, Lord Brutus.

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Bru, Farewel, every one.

Give me the Gown.


Where is thy inftrument?

Luc. Here, in the Tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'ft drowfily?

Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd.
Call Claudius, and fome other of my men ;

I'll have them fleep on cushions in my Tent,
Luc. Varro, and Claudius!



Enter Varro and Claudius.

Var. Calls my Lord?

Bru. I pray you, Sirs, lie in my Tent, and fleep; It may be, I fhall raise you by and by,

On business to my brother Caffius.

Var. So please you, we will ftand, and watch your pleasure.

Bru. I will not have it fo; lie down, good Sirs: It may be, I fhall otherwife bethink me.

Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for fo;
I put it in the pocket of my gown.

Luc. I was fure, your Lordship did not give it me. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much for getful.

Canft thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,
And touch thy inftrument, a ftrain or two?
Luc. Ay, my Lord, an't pleafe you.
Bru. It does, my boy;

I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Luc. It is my duty, Sir.

Bru. I fhould not urge thy duty paft thy might;

I know, young bloods look for a time of reft.
Luc. I have flept, my Lord, already.

Bru. It was well done, and thou fhalt fleep again;

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